The not-so-secret diary

The photo below is from my walk in Shahput Jat (Delhi) a few days ago.             It reflects the sentiment of Delhi and perhaps urban India.   There is nothing new about murals and wall-art in India. It has just found another outlet in the guise of an urban art project . The poster of Aam Aadmi Party (literally Common Man’s Party) featuring Arvind Kejriwal says a lot about democracy. AAP has risen to power supported by a nation weary of decades of corruption. So far their wins have been short-lived as they learn how to tackle the complexities of running a government while simultaneously thwarting scheming opponents. With national elections looming  this year, each street corner and each corner shop is a hot bed of debate and speculation. How do you predict which way 1.2 billion people will go?   One thing is certain- the Indian political map is set to change, and hopefully for the better. Micromax is a local India...

My unplanned visit to Delhi this month is turning this slow  meandering stream of nostalgia to a torrent. I was dragged recently to Shahpur Jat, an urban village in south Delhi. For those in the know, (or those who’ve been reading William Dalrymple- an avid Delhi historian and researcher) Delhi has grown in all directions over the last decade and engulfed many small villages along the way. Protected by village laws ( 'Lal dora' ) that make development laws and land use zoning redundant, these areas have long been a mess of tangled wires, muddied streets and haphazard buildings jutting out at scary angles. Many years ago I spent a summer in Shahpur Jat interning with a small firm that was, among other things, making a computerised inventory of all national highways across India. Only now do I appreciate what a mammoth task that was. I’m glad I played a small albeit mundane part in it. During that summer, as the monsoon rains fell, my co-internee and I would duck under tang...

As we step off the metro, I put the hood on my waterproof jacket up, curse the dark sky and pelting rain one more time, hop across a small puddle and head to the Oxford Book House. Nope, this not London but Delhi which has been hit by unseasonal rain and cold weather in mid-February. The radio informs us that it is a cold wave from the north. My aunt tells me it snowed in Shimla. So after sorting out bank cards, this feels like the one day that genuinely warrants a visit to the Oxford Book Shop and the trendy tea-house in Connaught Place. As we enter, a brightly lit reception salon meets the eye. There are a range of coffee table books on Indian history, art,   Hinduism and even Bollywood. Inside is a mix of Indian and international authors including the Booker prize winners.   After a quick browse we head for the adjoining café Cha Bar. The tea-menu is mind-boggling. There are traditional India brews, Oriental flowering teas, a mix of green teas, the more usual...

Without naming this airline that I regularly fly between LHR and DEL (there are just a few direct flights so take your pick) I sit in the security lounge today, sigh and resign myself to the inevitable. Chaos shall reign for what seems like an eternity, but in the end all will be well. There is no better way to prepare one self for India. Three things are different today as compared to my other recent trips: A) It's their busiest day since the holiday season and the airline seems surprised by this B) I'm a bit under the weather C) I've lost an important tier point on my airline card (not enough business/ intl' travel) which means I can't check-in at Business/Premiere (What a drag!) The queue for web check-in, consisting (mainly) of the more cool people appears to be shorter than the regular economy one. However about 15 minutes later we've only budged a few inches. The Indian family behind me is getting more and more indignant by the ...