Not that diary

First some background: Uttar Pradesh continues to be the most populous state of India and comparable to Brazil in terms of total persons residing (in 2014 at least).  Over the centuries this state and its numerous cities saw Buddha gain enlightment, saw the Turks come and go, became the home of the Nawabs in the Mughal era and changed the course of British colonial rule in India. Today this fertile land is mired in class-related politics and struggling to move ahead as other states in India leap forward. The towns of Meerut and Mathura, hugely important historically, have shaped me through ancestral connections. I spent many summers in Meerut. Less so in Mathura where my visits were shorter but always interesting as the family dynamics played about. As the next generation of my extended family has started moving out, their ties with these cities and in turn mine have become more tenuous. On my recent visit I ...

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 ...

Some time ago I found myself in Kingston upon Thames (a town in Greater London, south of Richmond). The high street is known for its wide range of shops and there are a few indoor malls too. I come here occasionally to browse through the usual high street brands in a more relaxed atmosphere than the mad rush that is witnessed on Oxford Street on weekends. On one such visit I wandered down to a well-known department store (Bentalls). I soon found myself gravitating towards the 'kitchen' section. This was much to my dismay as I remember not long ago (or so it feels!) I was being dragged by my mum through household goods shops when all I wanted to look at was dolls or books. Most of us grow up to be our parents they say, but in this case, I bet even my mum doesn't know what she's missing in her kitchen. So for the avid homemaker, or rather someone with a big kitchen in London (who?!)  here is a list of 'essential' items I saw being sold: - Honey spoon - Gra...

While on the subject of tea and my adopted country, as elaborated in my last post ,  I feel like I must write a mini-post to share my confoundedness on meeting folk with a taste for a hot beverage which has turned into a cool drink. Over a decade of meetings in London, some held in glossy glass buildings, some in transport depots and others in no nonsense office blocks, one thing has been consistent. There is almost always a British person, more than one sometimes, who will pour a cup of tea, with or without sugar and milk, take a few sips and then place it on the saucer. Twenty minutes into the meeting, by which time the air-conditioning has frozen that cup of tea into a drink cold enough to be worthy of a native of the Sahara desert, the gentleman (and it is too often the men) will loftily raise the cup again and continue to enjoy the remainder of the cup's contents. To this day I cannot quite fathom why people here do that. Apart from the obvious health disbenefits of cold ...