A Wish Fulfilled: Shantiniketan-Kolkata

Jan 22-28, 2024

My memories of Calcutta are from when I was visiting my Mama as a 12-year-old – sleeping soundly under the stars (at the Birla Planetarium), my elder sisters telling me about the badly nicked thumb (from slicing the veggies) of the jhalmuri wala at Victoria Memorial (whose wares I may have enjoyed) and following Papa through long streets while he stopped occasional passers-by to ask, ‘Netaji baari kothay?’

Jan 22 – Bangalore to Shantiniketan

We had just finished packing for our trip the night before leaving when Andy messaged: In case you haven’t left…Kolkata is going through an unexpected cold wave. Carry a warm sweater/jacket. A screenshot he sent showed a high of 21 and a low of 12 degrees – quite like Bangalore weather then and we didn’t wear warm. So, we both wore our light jackets before leaving at 4 AM, and I packed a light sweater (D thought I was going to pack his too, so that got missed).  Arriving in Kolkata, we realised– it was much too cold. Jaisin, from Shantiniketan, was there with his cab to pick us up. At around 12, we stopped for chai (read aloo paratha) at a roadside eatery and found everyone inside staring at the big TV screens – the 12.20 Ram Lalla parn pratishtha was on.

My heart was so full looking at the countryside Tagore wrote about – there were ponds and fields of mustard in bloom and paddy not in bloom. It took us 4 hours to arrive at the Santorini-styled Ananda Resort in Sriniketan, a twin town. Being the introverts that we are we preferred this to the very-well recommended homestays all over Shantiniketan. Ananda staff were obliging, simple folk; do not expect business-class, city-hotel service. The room felt icy cold. They had no room heaters but gave us an extra quilt. We ate a late lunch of dal, roti, rice and jeera-aloo – a wholesome home-style meal at their restaurant and then came out for a walk.

Young boys and as many girls (a lot of them wearing hijabs) were returning from school, riding cycles in groups and chatting excitedly. People were returning home in totos – 4-seater autos – with seats facing each other. D spoke to the girls – they could talk in Hindi though they study in Bangla medium. Walking aimlessly, we arrived at a village – Bahadurpur, where D played a spot of cricket with the boys. We tried taking a toto to go around but when the cold wind hit our ears and noses, we got off and called it a day by 7 (the sun sets at around 5 in the evening!) D had some toast and coffee for dinner, I just slipped under the double quilts pronto!

Jan 23 – Visit to Visva Bharti

This was our big day. We’d waited to visit the places associated with Tagore and the Visva Bharti (university) for years.

Shantiniketan is not a place/town – it is a bungalow in the Bolpur subdivision of Birbhum district of West Bengal. In 1836, Rabindranath Tagore’s grandfather Debendranath Tagore, took on lease 20 acres of land in Birbhum from a Sinha zamindar family to build a guesthouse – he had come there seeking peace – naming it Shantiniketan, and gradually the area around it came to be known by this name – now a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The house is not open to the public but looks well-maintained from the road. There was a chhatim (saptparni) tree under which Debendranath Tagore used to meditate and he built a prayer/meditation hall, Upasana Griha (1863) close by made of Belgium glass and Italian tiles.

Rabindranath Tagore first came to Shantiniketan at the age of 17 in 1878. He started an open-air school here with five students. It is called the Ashram and is a full school now. We saw students in yellow kurtas and white churidars/salwars.

In 1921, he set up the Viswa Bharati (its motto - where the world makes a home in a single nest) and it was conferred with the status of a ‘central university of public importance’ with the Prime Minister of India as its Chancellor in 1951 (Tagore passed away in 1941).

Our tour began from the Uttarayan Complex, one of Tagore’s many homes. It is believed that he wrote a significant body of his work here, including Gitanjali. The first stop was the Tagore Museum that gives glimpses of his life – personal articles, photos and letters, including the Nobel Prize replica and announcement.

In the complex, there are five houses that he built – each in a different architectural style – Udichi, Udayana, Konarka, Shamali and Punascha. Udichi is the only home one can see – peep through the glass windows to look at his Drawing Room. And his car. The rest, they said, are being renovated.

A Guide was arranged, and he came in the car with us showing us the various educational departments spread over the campus, the VC’s bungalow and the squat, yellow houses with beautiful winter blooms in the front that are leased out to ‘Calcutta people’.

We went past Amartya Sen’s grandfather’s house where the Nobel Laureate was born. The Guide commented that Tagore did so much for the country, but Sen went off to live his life in America.

We stopped at a small bookshop where I bought three books (Visva-Bharti publications): Letters (Tagore’s letters written to Mrinalini Devi), Poems (translated into English by Tagore himself), and The Religion of Man.

The tour of Shantiniketan was over and we were famished. Jaisin took us to an eatery in the Sonajhuri forest called Ram Shyam. It was like a mess – buy tickets outside and then sit in the large hall to be served. The veg thali was lip-smacking. I wanted to have another baigan bhaja but D did not let me! After lunch, we roamed in the Haat bazaar. Sonajhuri is a forest patch of sonajhuri/akshmoni (acacia auriculiformis) trees – with bottle brush type blooms that shower down, giving it this name – shower of gold.

We visited a Kali temple near the Kopai River and returned to our double quilts, exhausted.

Jan 24 – Shantiniketan to Kolkata

We started for Kolkata after breakfast at around 10.45. There was a detour as Mamataji was visiting Burdwan – Burdwan is a large city after Bolpur towards Kolkata. We reached Park Street at around 3. It had been drizzling all morning. We checked in and had lunch at the hotel restaurant. I was very keen to stay on Park Street. It was most exciting to see all the historic buildings around and in the darkness of the afternoon rain, the yellow-lit windows of the shops and establishments added to its quaintness. We immediately set out to explore. The streets were slushy, and people were already returning home. We walked from one end to the other, then stopped at Hard Rock Café for a drink and a bite without realizing it was still happy hours! On returning to the hotel, I noticed a white bath towel spread out at the entrance so people would not carry the muck on their shoes inside. I laughed and pointed it to D saying: See how they use our towels! Though I had noticed the frayed ends and believed it was an old, disused towel that they were putting to good use, it immediately put D off. Till 11 in the night, he tried getting us a room in another hotel. Of course, we were very hungry by then, and ordering food from the hotel was no longer an appetizing option. So, we ordered pizza that went back to Pizza Hut twice because the delivery person wasn’t able to contact us! Finally, the owner himself came with the pizza – that despite the delay was fresh and warm.

Jan 25 – Kolkata sightseeing

We had breakfast at this hotel (which I am not naming because they were nice, obliging people, trying their best, just that it did not work out for us) So if you run a hotel, please note that repurposing customer supplies under their noses/feet will be detrimental to your business) and checked out.

Jaisin’s cousin Bappa picked us up and we went off to Victoria Memorial. Bappa was an amazing character – an unhurried man with a sense of humour and amazing insights into politics and history. He had a genuine interest in showing us Kolkata in its glory and made sure he pointed to every historical building on the way.

Victoria Memorial is a grand structure. It was very crowded inside and no one would leave the Queen alone. Outside, we sat under the trees and watched the placid ponds reflecting winter flowers and people doing dangerous stunts to take photos, like standing on the 2-foot slope into the waters and suchlike.

Kalighat temple. I don’t visit temples, especially famous temples, but this temple has so much historical significance that I agreed to go. If anything, it strengthened my resolve to not go to famous temples. I felt really bad for the people from all over who come with genuine bakhti in their hearts.

Sore from this experience, we did not get off at the Alipore Museum (formerly, the Central Jail) that Bappa really wanted us to see. I was so miffed with him for taking us there and hungry so, started looking for vegetarian food. Bappa knew one place, the name of which kept slipping his mind, but he took us there – 6 Ballygunj Place (Chowringhee). The waiting was too long for us to survive so we ate at a nearby Hadiram’s hoping to be able to come back to 6 Ballygunj.  

It was nearly evening, which comes too early in Kolkata, so we zoomed to Prinsep Ghat. It was calming to watch the boats and streamers sailing on the quiet waters of the Hooghly River (is a ‘distributory’ of the river Ganga. Learned that a tributary flows towards the main river, while a distributary flows away from the parent water body!) and walk on the stretch of the riverfront. Next to it is Millennial Park which we skipped to go straight off to see the Howrah Bridge. Bappa gave us a full education on its technology. That is one of the longest cantilever bridges in the world (third longest) was learnt in school but seeing and understanding how this works was amazing. We also learnt that Howrah is a twin city across this bridge and not a part of Kolkata like we thought. 

We were somewhat Bangalored on these streets but Bappa kept us entertained with his witty observations. We travelled 20 km to our new hotel in New Town that felt a lot like the part of Bangalore we’re used to. The girl laughed when she heard this and said, ‘You guys!’

Jan 26 – Rest day and a mela

We decided to take the day off to watch the RD Parade on TV. It was a day of food, TV and naps. In the evening (which comes too soon!), we went out for a looong stroll – to an old-world mela and two malls and had only a Keventers’ coconut ice cream that had just the right amount of sweetness to retain the flavour.

Jan 27 – The best for the last

It was our 31^st anniversary. For the last few years, we’ve decided to mark this day by travelling to places in India that we haven't been to or would like to explore more of. It was Dandeli in 2023, Gujarat in 2020 (Rann of Kutch, Ahmedabad, Junagarh, Dwarka, Porbandar) and the Andaman Islands (Port Blair and Havelock) in 2018.

We started after breakfast. Bappa was late but looked pleased to see us. He took us first to Netaji Bhawan on Elgin Road, Bhowanipore. I remembered the part of this which had his footsteps painted as he escaped (the Great Escape) from house arrest from here to flee to Berlin (Jan 1941). Taking photos inside is not permitted but most of it you can see here.

We were now on our way to the most eagerly awaited place of this visit – the Jorasanko Thakur Bari. When I asked Bappa what ‘jorasanko’ meant, he veered off to the history of Calcutta formed from three villages - Sutanuti, Kalikata and Gobindapur – etc. I googled and gave him this: two (jora) wooden/ bamboo bridges (sanko) that spanned a small stream on this piece of land. He seemed pleased to know this but added that the three-village information was also ‘related’.

This is the ancestral home of the Tagore family. Do go into the ‘Office’ on the left side of the building and ask for a Guide. Students from the Rabindra Bharti University will show you around. Our guide was Mouli – a very articulate and knowledgeable young girl without whom this tour would not have been as fulfilling as it was. It was immensely moving to go around this house to see the bed Tagore slept in on the first floor from where he could keep an eye on the management of the entire household, a responsibility that fell on him; his jobba dress; the Japanese-style low dining table and stools that he designed and several other articles of personal use; the delivery room where he was born and the cradle-type place outside it, where people could ‘view’ the newborn; the room where he breathed his last breath and the corridor where his prostate surgery was done and from which he did not recover.

Outside in the corridor was a model of his streamer – Padma. The sight of this was very moving because night after rainy night I have lain awake in bed listening to the rain and reading his letters of sailing in the Padma in Shelidah (Shilaidaha, now in Bangladesh). Shilaidah Kuthibari.

We went to the portion of the house that Rabindranath built on the land gifted to him by his father on his birthday – it shows his interest in so many fields including cooking – a small kitchen where he and his wife Mrinalini experimented and tried dishes that he had relished on his trips abroad, including kebabs. Mouli told us that steaming and baking were introduced into Bengali cuisine by Tagore. I found this lovely article about his love for culinary art.

We spent so many hours here that lunch planned at 6 Ballygunj Place had to be skipped and we directly went for afternoon tea at Flurys, the second most awaited place on my list. Hash browns, panini sandwiches, cookies with Darjeeling tea and pastries for Bappa and us for later – delectable! Tummies stuffed, we walked through the crowded New Market (for old time’s sake – mummy had picked up lovely cotton chemises for me back then), visited the magnificent St Paul’s Cathedral, and then arrived at 6 Ballygunj place at 6.30 to eat dinner! The mojitos (Debi Choudhurani) were excellent. We were already stuffed, but I needed to try a few dishes Andy had recommended. Had a bit of plantain flower cutlets (mochar chop) with mustard sauce and vegetables and paneer steamed in banana leaf (nabaratna paturi).

We returned home the next day. In 5 (+2 rest days) we saw and experienced a lot but I rue the fact that we did not have time enough to also visit Sarat Chand Khuthi which is at the far end of Howrah town and the Indian Museum. So here’s wishing we return, au revoir, Kolkata! 

Sunday Herald Travel - A trip down memory lane: Allahabad

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A trip down memory lane
Shefali Tripathi Mehta, May 18, 2014: Allahabad

I continued to write Allahabad in the space for “hometown” in school forms for many years after we had stopped visiting with the siblings having flown the nest, and parents caught up in life’s unending commitments, their dream of retiring there slowly petering away.

As the past begins to slip through the invisible sieve of the years, our hold tightens on the little that is left; on what can still be had. The journey back to the city that formed the background to every childhood tale, dinner-time conversation and the benchmark of what everything must be measured against, was inevitable.

One cannot help being sucked into history in the colonial city of Allahabad dotted with quaint bungalows and streets named Hamilton, Clive, Hastings or Elgin. But the remnants are crumbling away fast. A more modest dwelling stands in place of grandfather’s colonial bungalow with its large grounds, dog houses, fruit trees and a lily pond; where as a kid, I took my first wobbling bicycle lessons; and where my aeronautical engineer uncle had a motor workshop, in which Chevrolets and Cadillacs were refitted and we kids got free rides through the city.   

Footprints in history 

Once every six years for the Ardh Kumbh and the Kumbh, Allahabad becomes the focus of world media. With the Army taking over the management of the mother of all melas, more and more people — believers and spectacle watchers alike, feel encouraged to travel to Allahabad. The Yamuna and the Ganga, flowing from the Himalayas, running parallel, meet here. Just before it loses itself into the Ganga, the Yamuna seems to cradle this historic city. 

Forming the Triveni Sangam, the confluence of three holy rivers — with the Ganga and the Yamuna is the now subterranean Saraswati. Boatmen will take you to the exact spot of the confluence where the faithful take a dip on wooden planks raised into the waters to wash away their sins. The boatmen will point to where the waters from the two rivers mingle — one distinctly dark, the other milky white.
Along the southern edge of the city, on the banks of the Yamuna, stands a magnificent fort. Emperor Akbar constructed it in 1583. It was he who rechristened Prayag as Allahabad, the city of Allah. Hsuan Tsang visited Prayag during Harshavardhana’s reign in the 6th century and he too mentions a fort with a stupa and walls 100 feet high on the banks of the Yamuna. So, an Ashokan fort probably existed on this site before Akbar built or restored it. An Ashokan pillar is now within the fort.

Mark Twain visited Allahabad in 1895-96 and wrote about the Kumbh and the fort, which he called “a large experience in religions”, because it was built by a Muslim ruler, it housed a Buddhist monolith, Hindu temples, and ‘now the fort belongs to the English, it contains a Christian church. Insured in all the companies’, he wrote. To the west of the fort is a 20-foot-long idol of a reclining Hanuman. During floods, that are an annual occurrence, the rise of the waters is measured by the number of times the idol is submerged, or in local-speak, by how many times Gangaji comes in to bathe Hanuman. Apparently, last year, he was bathed seven times.

It was in Allahabad’s Alfred Park that Chandra Shekhar Azad, on being surrounded by the British Police, shot himself in the head, preferring death to surrender. The park was renamed Chandrashekhar Azad Park.

Poets & politicians

Of all the famous people that have lived in Allahabad, the poet Nirala; Rudyard Kipling, who incidentally never grew to like the city; Jnanpith Award and Nehru Peace Prize recipient, poet Sumitranandan Pant; Mahadevi Verma and Firaq Gorakhpuri, both Jnanpith Award recipients; and Dr Harivansh Rai Bachchan, the city was the family home of the Nehrus. Anand Bhavan, the palatial home of the Nehrus since 1900, which served as the ferment of the Indian freedom struggle, is now a museum that displays the colonial lifestyle of the first family of India and documents the political happenings of the time. 

The Jawahar Planetarium is within the same complex. In the Allahabad of today, the new Yamuna bridge, which connects Allahabad with the neighbouring city of Naini, is an architectural feat — the country’s longest cable-stayed bridge. It takes the load off the charming, double-decked Naini Bridge that has trains running on its top deck and the roadways below. The new bridge offers beautiful vistas of the Yamuna and the city skyline.

A childhood taste that lingers on the tongue as memories scud through the mind is that of the midget samosa — ghee-coated, crisp and golden on the outside and a tangy burst of taste inside brought in by relatives or visitors from Allahabad — Hari ke samose. Poets and politicians alike have all fallen for this delectable Allahabad speciality. Hari ke Namkeen in the Chowk area is a city landmark, also famous for its dalmoth and fried seam (avvakai) seeds. 

The famous chaats, jalebis, puas, balushahis, mathris called from every street corner, and I finally did succumb to the pleasure of the savoury khaja — its salty wafer melting in the mouth and the crumbling flakes making a fine mess of an adult savouring childhood memories.

Allahabad is also home to the sweetest guavas, attributed to its soil quality. A winter-ripened fruit is large, fleshy, with fewer seeds and of a distinctly superior quality. A picture of me picking guavas in my chachi’s backyard drew quite a few envious comments.

A heart in denial of goodbyes, says, surely we will return another day knowing well how the journey of life leads us away, sometimes offering the chance to return to all that was lovely and dear, only in memories. 

Benaras

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By the holy ghats

Shefali Tripathi Mehta, Jan 19, 2014:

Travel story (to read the newspaper story, click here) 

BENARAS at Dawn. Photo Credit: Shibani Mehta

My favourite mythological tale as a child was one about the river Narmada which flows through my native state of Madhya Pradesh. The story told of the holy Ganga that once a year, dressed in dark robes and covering her face, comes to bathe in the Narmada. So sullied she is by the sins that people wash into her, she needs to cleanse herself. And indeed, when you see the Ganga in Kashi, you will want to ask why the one so revered is shown such disrespect that it flows so murky. For all the prayers, the ethereal aartis, the lovely leaf-bowl diyas that float on it morning and evenings carrying our mortal wishes, we seem to have done little to keep the holy waters clean. I asked Kallu, the mallah, our boatman who rowed us up and down the eighty ghats morning and evening and he was appalled. “Who can clean Ganga maiyya? She is the one that cleanses,” he almost chided me.

I was visiting my ancestral home after two decades. The family that went with me and the one that lived there then have since moved on and it was the time to forge new bonds on my own terms, for my lifetime. It was a journey back to the city where the roots lay, a homecoming of sorts.

Cousin Mahesh who lives in same house where six generations have lived, was full of fascinating stories. Did I know that the Ganga that flows north to south from the Himalayas into the plains actually flows south to north in Kashi? How is that for the phrase, ‘ulti Ganga behna’, to go contrary to the flow? Did I know that the Ganga is restrained on Shiva’s kamandal, His trident here? That He controlled her fury thus? Such tales abound in this the oldest inhabited, surviving city of the world, one that has a documented history of over 3, 500 years.

The famed Kashi Vishwanath Temple, the abode of the Lord of the Universe, was visited at night to avoid the long queues – on an average, 3,000 faithful visit the temple each day. The narrow street leading up to it is lined with wondrous wares – Benarsi saris, the famous wooden toys and idols of gods and goddesses, quaint charms and trinkets. The temple is under heavy security and mobiles, cameras, bags are banned. Most shopkeepers in the gali will gladly lend a ‘locker’ for these and keep your footwear for a token charge. There is no grand entrance, no spectacular view of the gold spires and the dome, quite unexpectedly one is at the garbh griha, a silver plinth that enshrines the Shivling, one of the 12 holiest jyotirlings. Inside too there is no opulence, just an overwhelming sense of piety.

Coming out of the sanctum sanctorum on the other side, one comes face to face with the imposing Gyanvyapi mosque. High spike shafts and wire mesh separate the two. The heavy military guard is disconcerting and not a great advertisement for our religious tolerance. Between the temple and the mosque, lies the Gyanvyapi well, the well of knowledge into which the main priest of the temple had apparently jumped with the Shivling to save it when the temple was invaded and razed by Emperor Aurangzeb. The temple was rebuilt a hundred years later, in 1780 by Ahilya Bai Holkar next to the mosque which is believed to be the site of the original temple. The other famous temple next door is that of the goddess of Kashi, the consort of Shiva, Devi Annapoorna, the provider of anna, food.

There is as much history as spirituality all around – the Tulsi Manas, the Durga and the Sankat Mochan are the other famous temples. The Banaras Hindu University has a new Vishwanath temple within its premises as also the Bharat Kala Bhawan, an art and archaeological museum, which has one of the greatest collections of miniature paintings besides textiles, costumes, art, literary and archival material. The Bharat Mata Mandir, dedicated to Mother India showcases a unique marble map of undivided India, its mountains and plateaus in relief.

Sarnath, where the Buddha preached his first sermon is ten kilometres by road from Benaras. The magnificent lion capital of Ashoka, our national emblem can be seen at the Sarnath Museum among other remarkable sculptures. Ramnagar Palace Fort, a magnificent sandstone edifice, the residence of the Kashi Naresh, the former Maharaja of Varanasi across the Ganga has a museum that offers a wonderful glimpse of the royal collection – armoury, costumes, jewellery, cars and palanquins. Rare manuscripts on display include one handwritten by Tulsidas.  

The Ganga Aarti on the ghats at dusk. Photo credit: Shibani Mehta

However, the most surreal experience in Benaras is that of gliding in a boat on the Ganga early morning as the sun rises in the East and the city waiting in anticipation, prayer on its lips, pays obeisance, palms folded, heads bowed, lighting diyas, offering flowers while hundreds of temple bells resonate the faith believers bring in their hearts. Equally therapeutic are the evening aartis on the ghats that have become very elaborate and illustrative. Devotees and tourists from all parts of the world come in early to get a good perch to watch this spectacle best viewed from boats that line up facing the ghats. 

Friends and relatives texted, called, almost badgered me to and were offended that I did not tuck into the famous street food of Benaras – besides chaat, kachori-aloo, jalebi, lassi, there is the maliyyo, a frothy dessert, not to forget the Benarsi paan. But the gastronomic journey, the touristy things were forgone for another day. This visit was to soak in the inescapable quiet that reaches one through what should surely be the din of living, breathing, praying sea of humanity that converges into Benaras each day but the silence the soul seeks does not require seclusion.

Faced with the burning piers on one side and a rising sun on the other, the awareness of life’s unending comings and goings, of ends in beginnings and beginnings in ends becomes assuredly plain. All one needs to do is to let go and expect to be carried into the river of faith – soothed, healed, delivered. 

Drops that make a city

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Shefali Tripathi Mehta, July 22, 2012

Shefali Tripathi Mehta sails through the many lakes of Bhopal, soaking up some history and pointing out to other sights of natural wonder along the way.

Bhopal, in the heart of central India with its lush forests and wildlife, is known as the city of lakes for the numerous natural and artificial lakes that highlight its beauty and pleasant climate. Besides the two better-known Upper (Bada) and Lower (Chota) lakes, the Motia Talab, the Shahpura Lake and the Hussain Baksh Ki Talaiya form a vital hub of the city’s social, cultural and historic milieu.

History has it...

There is an old saying about the Upper Lake of Bhopal, “Taalon mein taal Bhopal ka taal, baaqi sab tallaiya,” which loosely means that all the rest are ponds compared to it. The largest artificial lake in Asia, it sits in the heart of the city and winds its way around its south-western hills to flow away into the River Kaliasote.

In the 11th century, Raja Bhoj, the Parmara King of Malwa who ruled from Dhar, founded the city of Bhojpal, which later came to be known as Bhopal. Legend has it that he was advised to bathe in the waters of 365 rivers to cure him of an ailment. So 365 tributaries were made to converge and the Upper Lake was formed by constructing a clay dam across the Kolans river.

Till the early 16th century, Bhopal was a small village in the kingdom of the Gond tribes. The exquisitely beautiful Gond Queen Rani Kamlapati, who ruled from Ginnaur, was said to float around the Lower Lake of Bhopal on moonlit nights on a lotus-shaped barge.  Her life and rule ended abruptly when she hired an Afghan mercenary, Dost Mohammed Khan, to avenge the killing of her husband, Nizam Shah Gond. Dost Mohammed usurped her throne and invited her into his harem, leaving her with no other choice but to jump into the lake to save her honour. The ruins of her palace overlooking the Lower Lake still stand. The scary tales of her spirit lingering there kept us, as kids, away from the southern part of what is known as the Kamala Park. 

The city of undulating hills runs in a horseshoe around the Upper Lake, leaving it free in the southwest to blend into the horizon and display breathtaking sunsets each evening. The tranquil beauty of these sunsets is best enjoyed from the vantage points atop the two high hills on either side of the lake — the Shymala and the Idgah Hills. Just as the sun dips and the skies darken, the twinkling city lights in the valley town below present another quiet spectacle.

The Van Vihar National Park runs along the lake in the south and the wooded Takia island, a small island with the tomb of the Shah Ali Shah Rahamatullah, adds ethereal beauty to it. The lake is a haven for migratory birds like the white stork, the black-necked stork, the bar-headed goose, the spoonbill and the majestic Indian sarus crane.

Boating wasn’t such a common thing to do in our lakes back then. Some boats on the Lower Lake offered the recreation, but the pucca Bhopalees were content to watch. We were careful to not linger for too long after dark at the then ‘unsafe’ road along the Upper Lake up to the Yatch Club.

Now there is a swank new boulevard with neat flower beds and painted rails along the length of the Upper Lake. Dotted with restaurants and ice cream stalls, balloon sellers and peanut vendor carts, the scene in the evenings is more of a fair. India’s first National Sailing Club has been set up at the Boat Club and offers water skiing and para-sailing among other water sports. Motor boats zoom across the lake and an artificial rotating fountain spins on it at sundown.

Towards the north, where the ruins of forts and palaces of the old city dipped their feet into its waters, the VIP Road runs along the lake, connecting the city to the international airport. In 2011, the government gifted the city a statue of the tribal king, Raja Bhoj, which stands in the lake. The lake was also renamed ‘Bhoj Taal’ in his honour.

Among the other notable lakes, in the north of the city, are the Motia Talab, the Hussain Baksh Ki Talaiya and the Noor Mahal Talab, all within the precincts of the historic Taj Mahal Palace. The placid Motia Talab reflects like a mirror, the crown among mosques, the Tajul Masajid. In the posh, new part of the city is the Shahapura Lake constructed in the 1970s. Home to an amazing variety of resident and migratory birds, it is an oasis among the concrete human settlements. There are several other seasonal lakes dotting the landscape and adding charm to this beautiful city of lakes.

Barrier-free Sanchi

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by Shefali Tripathi Mehta, Mar 11, 2012 : Heritage

School and college trips invariably took us to Sanchi, just a few hours from Bhopal. We looked forward to such trips, except for the history lessons. And god knows how difficult it is to run from history when in Sanchi. So, I am not ashamed to confess that we found Sanchi rather monotonous. Also, in those days, the landscape was stark and even the winter sun felt harsh. But history grows slowly on some.

During subsequent visits, the ‘book in stone’ was slowly deciphered and devoured. Insight alone leads to appreciation. Yes, I could see the yakshini with the ‘bobbed hair’, discern the danam in Sanskrit engraved before the names of thousands of donors and take in the stories from the life of Buddha, beautifully etched in stone. History began to pulsate.

How did Sanchi, this sleepy, little remote town in a remote part of Madhya Pradesh come to be such an important Buddhist landmark? Curiously, I discovered that Sanchi had more to do with the Mauryan Emperor, Ashoka the Great, than with the life of Buddha.

Ashoka’s first brush with Buddhism happened when he was sent by his father, Emperor Bindusara, to suppress an uprising in Ujjain. Ashoka was injured in battle and was nursed in hiding by Buddhist monks and nuns. Among his caregivers was Devi, a follower of Buddhism and the daughter of a merchant from the neighbouring town of Vidisha, whom he had married. Devi, one of Ashoka’s many wives, was also the mother of his children Mahindra and Sanghamitra, who later took Buddhism to Sri Lanka.

After Ashoka turned benevolent witnessing the bloodshed of Kalinga, he published his edicts — his policies of rule based on ahimsa, mercy, respect for all religions; and examples of leading an enlightened life — on pillars that were erected all over his kingdom. Over the centuries, as Buddhism declined in India, much of the ancient Buddhist monuments fell to ruins. In 1818, a British General, Mark Taylor, discovered on a small hill in Sanchi, obscured by thick foliage, a great Buddhist stupa and almost 50 other ancient stone structures around it.

The stupas, monasteries, temples and pillars of Sanchi date from the 3rd century BC to the 12th century AD. The ‘Great Stupa’ at Sanchi is the oldest stone structure in India and was originally commissioned by Ashoka in the 3rd century BC. At 16 m in height and 36 m in diameter, it stands majestically with a paved procession path, walkway or pradakshina, and four exquisitely carved gateways in four directions. A balustrade encircles the entire structure. The carvings on each of the four gateways depict stories from Buddha’s life — the Jataka tales, Buddha’s renunciation of worldly life and enlightenment, the dream of maya, and his incarnations.

There are two other prominent stupas, a great stone food bowl, many temples and monasteries. The Ashokan pillar with its crown of the four lions, which has been adopted as India’s national emblem, is also among these. Only the highly polished shaft of the pillar remains here, though the crown has been removed to the museum.

My renewed interest in this UNESCO World Heritage site arose from it being recently made completely barrier-free and disabled-friendly, thanks to the efforts of a Bhopal-based voluntary organisation, Arushi.

What does it mean to make a historical site, a tourist spot, barrier-free when stepping out anywhere else in this country cannot guarantee such? Most roads have been widened to make place for more cars. Pavements for walkers are non-existent. Every few steps of public walking space is riddled with danger for the disabled — missing sewer covers, dug-out drains, uneven surfaces littered with muck and debris. How it must constrain the daily lives of persons with disabilities to access any public space — cinema, bank, railway station or library where there are no ramps or railings?

The stupas are now completely wheelchair accessible and have signages and information plaques in Braille, special tactile walkways, beepers and a Braille map that allow people with disabilities too to experience the splendour of the monuments.

The staff and the guides at the stupas have also been trained and sensitised towards the needs of tourists with disabilities, including wheelchair users and those with visual impairment. It is a befitting tribute to the benign emperor who bequeathed the teachings of Buddha to posterity. By creating an inclusive environment at this site, we honour the ideals of equality and humanism that these great lives exemplify.

Blushing Welcome

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Jaipur is a city of contrasts, a city that embraces the future without forgetting its past, notes Shefali Tripathi Mehta , after a walk through Rajasthan’s capital.

Squeezing myself through the sea of people thronging Jaipur’s Johri Bazaar (the jewellers’ market), I am beset by guides and sellers alike.

“See and buy,” I have been warned, but am totally unaware that as I walk past these pink-faced shops selling chooran, bedsheets, skirts, saris, jewellery and antiques, I will suddenly come face-to-face with the magnificent Hawa Mahal. The pink sandstone facade, five-stories high, dwarfs everything around, yet blends completely with its humble surroundings.

This is the uniqueness of the city — the wonderful amalgamation of old and new; of tradition and modernity; of the richness; of a secular culture and life with a scientific vision for the future. Swanky glass and concrete malls, an international airport, a world trade park and lifestyle stores stand shoulder to shoulder with the grand, graceful heritage buildings; local taxis, BMWs and Nanos zip past cycle rickshaws; people throng McDonalds and LMB (Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandar, established in 1727) alike.

A city so firmly entrenched in its rich culture embraces all that is new and forward, without losing its essential character. Just like the petite foreigner in a turquoise sari and wrists full of glass bangles sitting on a stool by the dusty street getting a henna pattern drawn on her palms.

Of wares and wherefores

This shoppers’ paradise around Hawa Mahal takes you up to the twin markets — Bapu and Nehru Bazaars, where you will be welcomed as if it were your own home and also be made to feel like the shops’ delightful wares were being offered to you for free. This is where all your bargaining power must come to play.

Cross the arched gateway, the Sanganeri Gate, and suddenly out of the chaos of the colourful bazaars, the wayward cycle rickshaws and smoke-belching auto rickshaws, you come upon the sprawling Ram Niwas Gardens with fountain squares, shady trees and broad avenues. Once adorned by lush lawns, a dry grass stubble now covers the empty grounds, but does nothing to diminish the grandeur of the imposing Central Museum that sits serenely at its heart. The Albert Hall (as it was formerly known as) is a fine example of Indo-Islamic or what evolved as the Indo-Saracenic architecture — ornamental arches, carved brackets, fluted pillars and filigree-latticed parapets. The museum houses an extraordinary collection of rare traditional arts and crafts, paintings, sculptures, textiles and even a 2,300-year-old Egyptian mummy.

Go further south on the wide and sweeping Jawaharlal Nehru or JLN Marg, and you will be treated to the sight of the beautiful Birla Mandir on the hillock, and just off the road, tucked behind on Moti Doongri or MD Road, the historic Ganesh Temple built in 1761.

Looming over these landmarks is the picturesque Moti Doongri Fort on the hilltop. Built to look like a Scottish castle, this was the residence of the Rajmata of Jaipur, Maharani Gayatri Devi, till her demise in 2009.

Heritage walk

Going back into history, we must start with the Amer Fort and Palace, where the royals lived before setting up the city of Jaipur. A ride up this fort that encloses palaces, pavilions, gardens and temples on a sashaying elephant is indeed a royal experience.

The Sheesh Mahal with its entire walls and ceiling inlaid with coloured glass and mirrors — the Palace of Mirrors — is a glittering favourite. Sunset from this fort with a magnificent view of the city below has been described in a poem by one of the English friends of the royals:

An amber sunset greets me
And the sun begins to sink
While far below us, Jaipur town
Awaits in twinkling pink.

The most recognised landmark of Jaipur, the Hawa Mahal, is part of the City Palace complex. Shaped like Krishna’s crown and looking like a giant honey-comb, it was a look-out for the ladies of the royal household who maintained strict purdah.

Overlooking the main street of the old city from this royal gallery, women could watch street life and processions. It offers a mystical view at sunrise, when the soft pink light glows and filters through its 953 windows.

The City Palace itself is a grand structure in the heart of the city. Now part museum, Maharani Gayatri Devi wrote about its collection in her memoir: “Moghul and Rajput paintings executed on the finest rice paper, the lines traced with a single-hair brush, and the paints mixed with the costliest and most brilliant ingredients: ground rubies, lapis lazuli, gold ...” She describes golden daggers and “guns with barrels bound with gold and butts inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl swords encrusted with precious stones.”

Close by is the Jantar Mantar observatory built between 1727 and 1734, a UNESCO world heritage site. It is an example of the scientific temper of the rulers and their interest in astronomy. The enormous stone observation devices built then still provide precise results.

Pink City

The city of Jaipur was built on the principles of the ancient Vaastu and Shilpa Shastras. Maharani Gayatri Devi writes, “In the 18th century, when Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh moved his capital from Amber to Jaipur, he commissioned Vidyadhar Bhattacharya, the best architect and town planner of that time. Vidyadhar Bhattacharya built a walled city of unparalleled beauty. It had broad roads, perfect symmetry and civic sense for the inhabitants. Jai expanded the capital beyond the city walls — hospitals, schools, colleges, the university, the secretariat and residential colonies were all built during his reign.”

In 1876, the city was painted pink to honour the visiting Prince of Wales (King Edward VII), a colour scheme that is still respected and maintained by the locals to a large extent.

There is an interesting anecdote about how the title Sawai, meaning one and a quarter, was bestowed on the Jaipur maharajas. Jai Singh once made a clever quip before Emperor Aurangzeb who was so impressed with his quick wit that he observed that Jai Singh was more than one, one and a quarter, or sawai; a title that has since been conferred on successive descendents. Similarly, the city has two flags — one whole and another, quarter sized.

Street life

One can spot the locals in their traditional dress everywhere. The Rajputana women wear ghagra and choli with a long veil, a borla, and ivory bangles that start from the wrist and go all the way up the arm. The bright colours of their dress and that of the men’s pagri might have been a step to add colour to the arid desert landscape of Rajasthan.

For a good dekko of the Rajasthani culture, life and food, a visit to the Chokhi Dhani is a tourist must-do. Most aspects of the local life have been encapsulated very authentically within this village resort close to town.

To say that Jaipur is a shoppers’ paradise is to state the obvious. The shops have the tendency to attract even a hardcore non-shopper, who will soon tire of saying no to themselves.

Among the fun things to buy are street clothes and jewellery, bandhani and laharia prints, sanganari prints, cotton razais, Jaipuri juttis (embroidered shoes) and lac bangles inlaid with glittery stones. Then, there are the antiques, precious and semi-precious stones and jewellery, miniature paintings and blue pottery.

On the food list, I would list the rich, creamy lassi being dished out in clay pots on MI (Mirza Ismail) Road, at the top. The historic LMB (Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandar, Johri Bazar) is famous for chaats, sweets, snacks and meals. The pyaz ki kachori (onion kachori), crisp jelebi, ghewar are other Jaipur delicacies available at most street halwais.

Best time to visit is early winter. Summers and winters are harsh. During Diwali, the markets are beautifully lit. On Makar Sankranti, the skies are festooned with multi-coloured kites. The festivals of Teej and Gangaur are celebrated with fervour.