delhi one hundred

{phonograpy post; text from an article in The Hindu, October 28, 2002}

Any town hall has a history. The one in Delhi had seen lots of it ever since it was built in 1865, though the construction began five years earlier, when Bahadur Shah was still in the Red Fort, but a prisoner of the British. Civic affairs were not conducted here in those days for it was then the Lawrence Institute -- of educational and cultural affairs -- probably named after the famous Lawrence Brothers. But later it was converted into the municipal headquarters, though the European Club and library continued to exist in it.

The solid looking building, now undergoing renovation, looks quite British even today, though the statue of Queen Victoria outside has been replaced by one of Swami Shraddhanand. A far cry indeed from the imperial queen to the Arya Samaj leader, but then that expresses the present ethos better.

The Town Hall was regarded as the seat of British paramountcy by the freedom fighters and it was close to it that they threw a bomb as a procession carrying Lord Hardinge wended its way through Chandni Chowk. Many of the revolutionaries used to wander about at night past the Town Hall in those days, among them the eccentric Sarin Bhai, who came out around midnight, wrapped in a blanket and smoking a bidi.

The Town Hall, like St. Mark's Square, is a reminder of many events of the past which the ever-present pigeons seem to revive with their cooing.

#19

Dussehra, the second time round.

While last year's focus was behind the scenes, this year is about the fervour, the festivity and the food! Delhi is home to a number of ramlilas, some going as far back as 180 years (Shri Ram Lila Committee, said to be established by Bahadur Shah Zafar), many situated along the Red Fort. Apart from the performances themselves, there are parades, rides and the best bit - the chaat stalls!

Prices have risen over the years (Rs. 100 for a giant wheel ride), but it's an atmosphere without a parallel. Gripping the edge of an old, rickety, iron cart, you sit suspended many feet in the air. On one side is the Jama Masjid, lit up. One another are the competing ramlilas, many with competing political affiliations as well. Old hotels, and the subdued market take up a third. And beyond, dotted well behind the Red Fort boundary walls, you see street lights on the Ring Road, and the world you left far, far behind.

(from the archives)

Disha Pandey is a twenty one year old graduate in business economics and a fellow at Teach for India. Whilst many of her peers spend their week furiously typing at laptops in their air conditioned offices, she’s part of the movement that is Teach for India, teaching grade four students at a school in Delhi’s Seelampur slum.

A two year, full time program that seeks to end the educational inequity in India, TFI works with graduates and young professionals, who are placed as teachers in low income schools across the country. The journey for the fellows is at the same time inspiring, humbling and transformational. This is a look into her diary, as a fellow. 

I tried playing Taboo with my kids on Saturday and I wrote 'Table' on the blackboard. They had to make the kid standing with his back to the blackboard guess the word but they couldn't say the word while giving him clues. I expected them to give usual hints when one kid stands up and says, '2x2, 2x3, 2x4.. 4x8, 7x9' and the other one first says, '4, 6, 8..' and then five seconds later, he brilliantly guesses, 'Tables'.

I started playing catch with a makeshift paper ball with a few of my kids today and Omkar, the most hyper kid I've ever seen says to me, "I think Didi has also become a kid because she's staying with so many kids!"

On another occasion, Firdos looked at my bag and exclaimed, "Oh! Didi! You are also a Teach for Indian?" They never fail to surprise me with the things they say, think and feel. Never. 

I got a card today that says, "To dear teacher - plz open with a smile.. plzzzz.." I can't believe my 4th graders use sms lingo already. It's unnerving! So, I have another mini-mission to accomplish. But overlooking that, I got my first ever card from one of my students!

I was talking to them about ‘change’, and what is the one thing they would want to change around them, near  their house, in school, etc.

Fazia replied, “The principal beats, so the teachers beat, and the big kids beat. I don’t like this and this is what I want to change.”

Nida said, “Men near my house. If their children are fighting, so they are fighting. I don’t like it, and I want to change it.”

Iram said, “Near my house, men come to children and say, Come take chocolate, and they take those children away from parents. That is not nice..”

Omkar wants to build houses for those who don’t have houses and give clothes to those who don’t have any.

Today, I began reading Alice in Wonderland to them. You know what the best moment was? When I finished the second chapter I said, "Okay. We'll read the rest of the story tomorrow." And they responded with a loud chorus of, "NO DIDI!" 

Finally. I think I might just get my kids to love reading eventually. :) 

Excerpts from the day -

"Didi, I think Alice is sad. Why is she crying all the time?" "She is laalchi..what do you say.. yes, greedy. Why is she drinking and eating everything?" "She is lonely, Didi, because alone she goes after the rabbit. She is alone and sad because she is crying." "Didi, she is chaalu.. clever! She is drinking the water to become small then eating to become big! Very clever."

They leave me speechless sometimes. So speechless.

Omkar has become the BEST behaved kid in class. When I say “No”, he gets it and goes back and sits quietly. He has his moments of extreme restlessness, but he knows I get where he’s coming from.

The other day, I asked him, “Omkar, why are you so good now? What did your team members say to you?”

He replied, “Eh. They didn’t do anything.” And I said, “Then?”

He said, and I quote, ”I went to my chhat, and I saw a chidiya. There was a bad chidiya and the other chidiyas said don’t be bad, don’t be bad, don’t be bad... So the chidiya is not bad anymore...”

And I was looking at him in wonder. And I don’t know if it is true or not. But the fact that he thought or imagined it, and experienced this...

The fatigue resulting from the nearly 1.5 hours I spend commuting to my school in the morning disappears as soon as I step into my classroom every single day to a chorus of, "Good morning, Didi!"

It feels like I'm in another world when my kids push themselves to use words like "cheerful" when they're happy and get super-competitive (much like my own self) while playing Pictionary, often pointing out the errors in my calculation of the scores.

It feels overwhelming sometimes when I think about how much more I have to do with them every day but somehow at the end of the day, when they stick around with me just to make sure I've packed my stuff up and have left safe and sound, it just makes me feel that it'll all be good, it'll all be good soon.

I made them go through a round of elections and made team leaders and delegated responsibility and they shine! They just soak the responsibility up and they’re always making sure I know what’s going on.

I joined Teach For India because I wanted to change myself, but I didn’t realize how much, as a result of me being with them all the time, the kids would change and how evident that change would be in just a month.

In which we try a HOND

For quite a while now, Brandon Stanton's Humans of New York has topped the (mental) list of my favourite photography projects ever (also, Mumbai Paused is a regular feature on that list). HONY started off as an attempt to create a photographic census of New York, which then developed into a much more intimate form of street photography, with snippets, trivia, secrets and social commentary accompanying some really striking portraits from the streets of NY.

Last Saturday, the photography club at my office organized our first photo walk at Chandni Chowk and Chawri Bazaar, two of the oldest areas of Delhi, which (or maybe because of that?) are also home to some of the best food in town. Being a silent but ardent HONY fan, I'd long been meaning to try taking street portraits similarly: collecting stories from the streets and bringing these out in the portraits. Well, we put two and two together and set off early morning.

In which hopes are deflated

Photowalks aren't usually my thing; I prefer smaller groups (maybe three people tops?) or solo ventures that allow me more space and put lesser pressure on someone being photographed. Would you really want to be stared at by a bunch of squinting slash frowning photographers while another of their ilk brandishes a camera in your face? Not really, no. Add to that the fact that you'd most likely have to stay for more photographs, given that it's a tough call to get people to agree to portraits by random (sometimes creepy?) strangers and it's not really a comfortable prospect. Anyhow, one can hope and one did too, but hopes were soon dashed.

We started on the main road from Sis Ganj Gurudwara to the Red Fort, in which I was shooed a total of three out of four times. While one was an outright "No. NO." to what I imagined was a friendly query, the second and third tries failed for want of money. "Thode dollar, ek do hi de do.." "Paise nahi degi? Toh khadi kyun hai, chal phutt!" I started reevaluating my own approach slash creepiness. 

In which we have photographs

Once we progressed to the inner lanes of the market, I discovered a smile worked better than a question upfront, Maybe in Delhi we're prone to distrust someone taking a photograph for no apparent reason. Would you trust a stranger asking for your photograph out of the blue? Would you stay to hear why? Would it matter where the stranger was from? I don't know.

The downside to conversing through smiles in the latter half of the morning was that the rush of the market prevented the conversation from furthering to more verbal means. A snatched look, contact, a smile. Hesitance, permission. Disappearance. 

But Brandon Says...

Don’t Let Anyone Make You Feel Weird

This one is hard to explain, but very important. There are mean people in this world who will make you feel like you are “out of line” or “rude” because you politely asked for a photograph. If you don’t have much experience, these people can really shake your confidence. When I first started, one bad interaction could really make me question myself: maybe they’re right, maybe this is weird, maybe I’m a bad person for doing this. I don’t have these thoughts anymore. I’ve now stopped over 10,000 people on the streets of New York. I’ve had pleasant interactions with over 9,800 of those people.

I’ve learned this: Less than two percent of people in this world will yell at a person who politely asks for a photograph. (And that’s in a tough place like New York City.) If someone does yell at you, it’s very much their problem, not yours.

As we moved inside, the tourists thinned out and the responses got warmer. The woodworker heard the light click at my first shot, looked up, nodded in agreement and paused; still, tense, closed, unmoving. As my finger lifted up and I rose to thank him, his face broke into the widest smile possible, and a different man unclenched.

In which Delhi erupts.

The anger has been simmering for a while. The city is unsafe, period. It is pouring forth now, on the streets, in debates and in retaliation. But in the face of inaction by the government, the anger is giving way to violence: violence, with the potential to deviate the debate from rape and safety to containing and thwarting an apparent riot. As the protest approach day three, there is a need, more than ever, to let the cause supersede it all. To let a unified, uni vocal message resound above dispersed, politically led protests. The anger is justified, and absolutely necessary. It is imperative we rise above the violence.

Every year in late September, the roads in Tagore Garden are transformed into a sea of dissected bamboo and papier-mache body parts. An arm here, a torso there, and many a crown. This is the centre of Delhi's Ravan making demi-industry, and these are the people behind the scenes.

Delhi is yellow. Yellow like gurgling laughter on a ripe summer day, a small hand clasped tightly in a deeply lined one, a dribble of orange bar down a chin.

Delhi is green. Green like water rippling behind a rickety boat in the Old Fort lake, a sudden indulgence in childishness. Or a stubborn blade among a sea bowing under the wind.

.

Delhi is blue. On a wistful day at the window, while a cup of tea waits patiently. A foggy blue. A murky blue. Or sometimes a lilting blue, that pulls you to the terrace when the rains first fall. It tugs softly, drawing you in. A sneaky blue.

What the stars fortell.

Delhi's romance with the stars. Choose your favourite heroes, maybe your kid's photo too. Go to Jama Masjid, communicate your request. Get your very own personalized flex printed, your ware proudly endorsed by those you adore. A sampler.

Salman ka Preity

Well, everyone's a star in their own right.

Rajni's guarantee. 500 rupees inaam.

Meanwhile in Mathura..

One day I was in Connaught Place, looking like this:

Then, I spotted this:

Then, this:

Taking this to be a Sign from the Universe, friend and I headed off, walking towards our destination.

We were at Odeon, one of the oldest movie theatres in Delhi, which opened in 1936. Right in front of Odeon is a circular kiosk, home to three paan shops- Odeon Gupta Paan Palace, DN Shukla Odeon Paan and Milan Paan, with a history of their own. Almost as old as their namesake, between the three of them, the shops offer some of the quirkiest paans in Delhi.

You could have a chuski paan, the offspring of a traditional chuski and your regular paan, which will lead to immediate brain freeze. Or its elder brother, the massive flood paan, with even more crushed ice, pushed deep inside your mouth by the paanwaala.

I took the easy way out, I had it in smaller bites. :P Don't do that though, it ruins the experience.

Chocolate paan, with huge dollops of chocolate sauce and chunks of chocolate inside!

Also on offer, strawberry, mint, rose, raat ki raani [the smell! totally similar to the flower], khus and marigold flavours. There's also a Choko-Moko Chocolate Paan, which is not a paan with chocolate inside, but chocolate with paan inside. Only at Gupta Paan Palace.

Gundi Paan, hailing from Calcutta. A set of four small paans, for twenty rupees, they leave you with a cool sensation, post eating.

Meet Chawanni, who has been working at Milan Paan for the last forty five years. He says this is his role to play, and there's no question of him going anywhere else.

Also nearby is Yamu's Panchayat, [pictured way up above, go see], India's first pan parlour. If you're willing to shell some, on the menu is Paan Adaab, coated with real gold foil, Rs. 251 apiece.

They have a very interesting list of why paan flavoured chocolate is better than love. You can eat it shamelessly in front of your parents!

#10: To Build A Home

There is a house built out of stone Wooden floors, walls and window sills Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust This is a place where I don't feel alone This is a place where I feel at home And I built a home For you; for me Until it disappeared From me; from you

And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust

Everyday I walk to the metro station on my way to college. In a 100 metre distance, there are 4 houses that have been razed, bungalows giving way to high rises, currently occupied by their transient creators. 

On a Sunday winter evening at Hauz Khas, I accidentally walked into a Delhi Drum Circles jam at the Deer Park. I've wanted to attend one for the longest time possible and plans have never worked out, so it turned out to be quite a pleasant accident.

Drum circles are community gatherings where people from all walks of life come together to play hand-drums in a casual, community-orientated and safe environment. The Delhi Drum Circle jams together every week at the Deer Park, usually Sunday afternoons, and everyone's invited. Percussionists, playing djembes, tablas, daflis, even tambourines come together. There's a sprinkling of other instruments too: I saw a manjeera and harmonica as well. And then those who dance, free spirited, inviting others to join in the cheer.

It's like a community outpouring of happiness, music and goodwill. Go for a jam. You'll find yourself swaying to the rhythm, smiling, clapping along and probably even deciding to join in soon. Do go.

The next jam is on the 7th of January at the Deer Park at 3 30PM. 

Ghevra, located near the North West border of Delhi, is home to 10,000 families. 10,000 families that lived in slums across Delhi, from Pragati Maidan to Laxmi Nagar to Khan Market, as recently as 2006. But as all good things call for sacrifices, so did the Commonwealth Games. To make way for the Games' infrastructure, these slums were razed, the families uprooted and shifted to Ghevra, with the lure of a better life.

There's electricity round the clock and schools are nearby. But the jobs that fed the house are still where they once lived. Most of the residents worked as domestic help or drivers at their nearby colonies. The braver ones still do. They take the sole morning train from Ghevra at 4AM, coming back home at 7 30PM. For some of the kids who were in school, their shift to the government school at Ghevra is yet to take place. The same routine follows.

The houses measure 12 to 18 square feet. With entire families pushed into that space, cooking, bathing and studying occur outside on the streets.

Most dwellers have lost hope that the government will pay much attention to their needs or that there is any weight in dreaming of a better tomorrow. As a result, about half are jobless, without any inclination to find work. The richest man in the settlement owns an alcohol shop.

There are some who're trying. They work as daily wage labourers nearby, or as help in the surrounding farmlands. "Jinka khush hona hota hai woh khush rehte hai, jinhe dukh se matlab hai woh dukhi." Those who want happiness stay happy, those who don't, wallow in grief. She set up a small snacks shop with her husband, and also found work at the local school, supplying their meals.

Some say it's for the better, and with the increasing growth in suburbs, jobs will be aplenty here. But for now there are none. And with no money in their pockets, having electricity and a school doesn't provide much comfort.

Once a week, in most Delhi localities, a street bazaar is set up. The market is a frenzied hub of activity, which runs late into the evening. The day varies from place to place, but the goods are similar-clothes, jewellery, glassware, utensils, spices, chhole bhature and jalebi stalls. :D 

This week's market near my locality saw a new entrant though:

The Man Selling Permanent Bubbles

These were bubbles quite like soap bubbles in appearance, except that they were made from a gooey, thicker solution, and had to be pulled off the blowing tube and sealed off. He would loudly advertise these awesome bubbles, gather a crowd and demonstrate, while everyone watched, rapt.

10 rupees for a small tube enough for 20 bubbles.

Also, 

Pastries!

Around

The Making of a Diwali Mehendi

So, here is the backstory. As a kid, I would fiddle with mehendi cones that would sometimes come free with things, or I would cajole my mum to buy. They would go waste, resulting in some squiggles on newspapers, on bits of paper, on the floor and sometimes, by mistake, on hands. I even bought a mehendi designing guide, but all I did was look at it.

This Diwali, as part of the hamper sent in by my mum's sister, was this little mehendi cone: 

At once, unfinished plans of yore came to mind.I had to, HAD to put to use.

So the second step? Finding a suitable target with suitably low standards for mehendi excellence. Enter five year old cousin.

Step three, sitting with the cousin and brainstorming over a potential design. After much thought and brilliance, we came up with the path breaking Mickey Mouse Mehendi Design:

Step four, the excruciating wait for the mehendi to dry.

A quick tour of the local Diwali market while we were at it:

...and we're back to work.Scrape it off, don't let water touch it [why?] and AAAAAH!

The kid was happy. She made do the other hand and the back of both as well. Happy Diwali, everyone. :)

Love at the New Delhi Railway Station