My journey to New Delhi began on a pleasant evening of the 30th of May, 2006. As if to commemorate this ‘event’, the weather gods were playing it ‘cool’, quite literally.
The previous Monday was rather long; I had to make an attempt to block my tickets for an impending trip to the United States (News – The idea of a venture fund focused on agro-based business has found some acceptance)…after spending almost the whole of the day in searching for a good flight route with a pathetic internet connection, I successfully did not complete the task. I was awake and functioning at about 3pm on the 30th and splurged good amount of currency on a taxi to the Bangalore Airport. On reaching the airport, I did all the things that have become quite functional for frequent travelers. As it always happens with me, I had superbly (mis)calculated the time required to travel to the airport and arrived for a flight that was to take-off two hours thence. (And I blame my Dad for rushing things up!)
Human life is a colorful mosaic of expressions. I get the feeling that airport/railway stations are wonderful backdrops for viewing this mosaic in all its glory. On one side, I saw a group of friends chatting away for eternity (the fact that they were girls and a bit loud is to be overlooked). On another, I saw an old couple trying their might to restrain their grandchildren who were devil incarnate. On this corner, I saw a couple – they must have been newly married – romancing away (no further explanations pls). On a corner of the restaurant was a family staring at the end of what must have been a wonderful vacation. The forlorn look in their faces, indication that they weren’t very eager to go back to their normal life, was taking its toll on the kids who just wanted to enjoy the last minutes of their vacation to the hilt.
A self-confessed bookie as I am, I checked out a couple of titles at the Sankars book stall and managed to buy one after almost an hour (I must confess here that I was rather interested in a couple of beauties – I even managed to befriend one…). As I was thus laying a strong foundation for the rest of the flight, sadly I was interrupted by Mr.Speaker beckoning me to board the flight…
I had a boring flight – the dinner served wasn’t adequate to quench my appetite. Air travelers ought to exercise their democratic right and ask for better food – they probably should take a leaf out of the striking medico’ books. Frowning more at the quantity of the food, rather than the quality – I set my foot at the Indira Gandhi International Airport and the first thing that I was thinking was – it was HOT; I mean quite literally. I have heard of the saying ‘from the frying pan into the fire’. This is the first time I experienced ‘from the Kelvinator into the frying pan’.
When I started to Delhi, my friends piqued my interest in Delhi by saying that Delhi is a land of beautiful girls. Well, I do not know much about that – I didn’t see an abundant population of good-looking girls – but, I did not know that Delhi was a nurturing ground for a future Michael Schumacher or Alonso. The cab driver probably forgot that he wasn’t driving at the Monaco Grand Prix. The roads of Delhi sure did not look like Monaco either! After a grand prix run to the hotel, I found to my dismay that the Air Condition wasn’t in full form – I had to do with a joke of an AC. Fortunately, my room had a television and I happily watched 3 movies before hitting the sack at about 3am
The dawn of 31st May began with the accompanying shrill sound of the telephone and the mobile alarm at the same time. I went to the US Embassy and as luck would have it, got my license to visit that country. With all formalities completed by 9.45am, I had to make some plans for visiting as many places in Delhi as possible and here entered Gurcharan Singh. This autowallah, offered to take me around a couple of places for an amount of INR 300 (I still think I was fleeced).
The first place that I visited was the Nehru Memorial & Museum at Teen Murti Marg. As I set foot inside the palatial bungalow, I couldn’t help but wonder about the life the Nehru family must have had. The Nehru memorial is the place where Jawaharlal Nehru lived and died. It was also a museum that offered a chronological snapshot of the Indian Struggle for Independence. As I moved around the museum, I got the feeling that it was more about the Congress Party and its role in the Independence struggle than the valiant struggle itself. I took a good look at his study room and decided immediately that I wanted one that was bigger and better. Not that his study room was small in the least, it’s just that – like anything else, the bigger & grander it is, the happier I am. I disagree with some of the political and economic views of Nehru, but I sincerely admire him for what he was – a remarkable politician and a visionary. In those days of Independence, I tend to think of India as a virgin country awakening from a dream in which it was brutally raped. Nehru and his cabinet had the guts to guide the initial tiny steps of a slumbering giant. Hail Nehru!!!
The next stop was the Indira Memorial at Safdarjung Road – the place here Indira spent most of her political life, where she was brutally assassinated and where Rajiv & Sonia Gandhi started the chapter of family in their lives. Indira soon impressed me with her well adorned study room – her bedroom was neat and functional. Both Indira’ erstwhile house and Nehru’ astonished me with its simple yet grandiose architecture. Both these houses did not flaunt an architectural brilliance that was patented by the Presidential Palace or the Parliamentary house. Instead, the architecture seemed to rely on the effect of space and a high ceiling to leave a resultant impression of a palatial house. Both these house espoused an old world charm that has become a rarity.
My plans to visit Mahatma Gandhi’ memorial was cancelled at the last moment and I decided to visit India Gate and the Parliamentary house instead. The view from the Presidential Palace, in the direction of India Gate is simply amazing. After loitering around for more than an hour, I had my photo taken before the India Gate. India Gate was originally built by the British Empire in memory of Indian soldiers who went to war for the British in Africa & North Western Frontier provinces. It claimed its own place in post-Independence Indian history when the last troops of the erstwhile British Empire symbolically exited India via the India Gate. It now houses the Amar Jyoti – a light that honors the ultimate sacrifice our brethren has made so that we may live a protected life. I also began to mentally draft plans to built a miniature India Gate at the entrance of my future home
The presence of amazing landmarks that read as significant milestones in history gives Delhi the pride of place among all cities in India. More than all this, Delhi exudes a power that is quite intoxicating. Power to me is an individually driven phenomenon. I don’t believe in ‘collective’ power. Delhi – more than anything else symbolizes the power of great individuals who have taken it upon themselves the task of single-handedly impacting lives.
After skimming the ocean that is Delhi, I returned to catch my flight back to Bangalore only to witness a freak dust storm that was further followed by heavy rain & thunder showers. As a consequence the flight was delayed by about an hour. The flight took off and I had my first experiences of air turbulence. We were quite literally thrown around in the plane. The fact that I was seated in the last row didn’t make life any easier. At one point of time, the turbulence got so wild that I started praying. Assuming that I would reach Bangalore in one piece I decided to shut down my laptop and concentrate on praying J
As I was praying, I also drafted plans to get my hands on ‘The City of Djinns’ by William Darlymple. Will I reach Bangalore in one piece? Will I read The City of Djinns? Who can tell?!!!
The previous Monday was rather long; I had to make an attempt to block my tickets for an impending trip to the United States (News – The idea of a venture fund focused on agro-based business has found some acceptance)…after spending almost the whole of the day in searching for a good flight route with a pathetic internet connection, I successfully did not complete the task. I was awake and functioning at about 3pm on the 30th and splurged good amount of currency on a taxi to the Bangalore Airport. On reaching the airport, I did all the things that have become quite functional for frequent travelers. As it always happens with me, I had superbly (mis)calculated the time required to travel to the airport and arrived for a flight that was to take-off two hours thence. (And I blame my Dad for rushing things up!)
Human life is a colorful mosaic of expressions. I get the feeling that airport/railway stations are wonderful backdrops for viewing this mosaic in all its glory. On one side, I saw a group of friends chatting away for eternity (the fact that they were girls and a bit loud is to be overlooked). On another, I saw an old couple trying their might to restrain their grandchildren who were devil incarnate. On this corner, I saw a couple – they must have been newly married – romancing away (no further explanations pls). On a corner of the restaurant was a family staring at the end of what must have been a wonderful vacation. The forlorn look in their faces, indication that they weren’t very eager to go back to their normal life, was taking its toll on the kids who just wanted to enjoy the last minutes of their vacation to the hilt.
A self-confessed bookie as I am, I checked out a couple of titles at the Sankars book stall and managed to buy one after almost an hour (I must confess here that I was rather interested in a couple of beauties – I even managed to befriend one…). As I was thus laying a strong foundation for the rest of the flight, sadly I was interrupted by Mr.Speaker beckoning me to board the flight…
I had a boring flight – the dinner served wasn’t adequate to quench my appetite. Air travelers ought to exercise their democratic right and ask for better food – they probably should take a leaf out of the striking medico’ books. Frowning more at the quantity of the food, rather than the quality – I set my foot at the Indira Gandhi International Airport and the first thing that I was thinking was – it was HOT; I mean quite literally. I have heard of the saying ‘from the frying pan into the fire’. This is the first time I experienced ‘from the Kelvinator into the frying pan’.
When I started to Delhi, my friends piqued my interest in Delhi by saying that Delhi is a land of beautiful girls. Well, I do not know much about that – I didn’t see an abundant population of good-looking girls – but, I did not know that Delhi was a nurturing ground for a future Michael Schumacher or Alonso. The cab driver probably forgot that he wasn’t driving at the Monaco Grand Prix. The roads of Delhi sure did not look like Monaco either! After a grand prix run to the hotel, I found to my dismay that the Air Condition wasn’t in full form – I had to do with a joke of an AC. Fortunately, my room had a television and I happily watched 3 movies before hitting the sack at about 3am
The dawn of 31st May began with the accompanying shrill sound of the telephone and the mobile alarm at the same time. I went to the US Embassy and as luck would have it, got my license to visit that country. With all formalities completed by 9.45am, I had to make some plans for visiting as many places in Delhi as possible and here entered Gurcharan Singh. This autowallah, offered to take me around a couple of places for an amount of INR 300 (I still think I was fleeced).
The first place that I visited was the Nehru Memorial & Museum at Teen Murti Marg. As I set foot inside the palatial bungalow, I couldn’t help but wonder about the life the Nehru family must have had. The Nehru memorial is the place where Jawaharlal Nehru lived and died. It was also a museum that offered a chronological snapshot of the Indian Struggle for Independence. As I moved around the museum, I got the feeling that it was more about the Congress Party and its role in the Independence struggle than the valiant struggle itself. I took a good look at his study room and decided immediately that I wanted one that was bigger and better. Not that his study room was small in the least, it’s just that – like anything else, the bigger & grander it is, the happier I am. I disagree with some of the political and economic views of Nehru, but I sincerely admire him for what he was – a remarkable politician and a visionary. In those days of Independence, I tend to think of India as a virgin country awakening from a dream in which it was brutally raped. Nehru and his cabinet had the guts to guide the initial tiny steps of a slumbering giant. Hail Nehru!!!
The next stop was the Indira Memorial at Safdarjung Road – the place here Indira spent most of her political life, where she was brutally assassinated and where Rajiv & Sonia Gandhi started the chapter of family in their lives. Indira soon impressed me with her well adorned study room – her bedroom was neat and functional. Both Indira’ erstwhile house and Nehru’ astonished me with its simple yet grandiose architecture. Both these houses did not flaunt an architectural brilliance that was patented by the Presidential Palace or the Parliamentary house. Instead, the architecture seemed to rely on the effect of space and a high ceiling to leave a resultant impression of a palatial house. Both these house espoused an old world charm that has become a rarity.
My plans to visit Mahatma Gandhi’ memorial was cancelled at the last moment and I decided to visit India Gate and the Parliamentary house instead. The view from the Presidential Palace, in the direction of India Gate is simply amazing. After loitering around for more than an hour, I had my photo taken before the India Gate. India Gate was originally built by the British Empire in memory of Indian soldiers who went to war for the British in Africa & North Western Frontier provinces. It claimed its own place in post-Independence Indian history when the last troops of the erstwhile British Empire symbolically exited India via the India Gate. It now houses the Amar Jyoti – a light that honors the ultimate sacrifice our brethren has made so that we may live a protected life. I also began to mentally draft plans to built a miniature India Gate at the entrance of my future home
The presence of amazing landmarks that read as significant milestones in history gives Delhi the pride of place among all cities in India. More than all this, Delhi exudes a power that is quite intoxicating. Power to me is an individually driven phenomenon. I don’t believe in ‘collective’ power. Delhi – more than anything else symbolizes the power of great individuals who have taken it upon themselves the task of single-handedly impacting lives.
After skimming the ocean that is Delhi, I returned to catch my flight back to Bangalore only to witness a freak dust storm that was further followed by heavy rain & thunder showers. As a consequence the flight was delayed by about an hour. The flight took off and I had my first experiences of air turbulence. We were quite literally thrown around in the plane. The fact that I was seated in the last row didn’t make life any easier. At one point of time, the turbulence got so wild that I started praying. Assuming that I would reach Bangalore in one piece I decided to shut down my laptop and concentrate on praying J
As I was praying, I also drafted plans to get my hands on ‘The City of Djinns’ by William Darlymple. Will I reach Bangalore in one piece? Will I read The City of Djinns? Who can tell?!!!
