Thursday 22 April 2010

Delhi !






















While walking in the narrow bustling streets of Shahjanabad in the old city of Delhi, one is awed by the number of people concentrated in those streets with narrow pavements, small shop fronts and houses above. Frequently one brushes with or bumps into the local people. Unlike the over-polite English, here an apology is not expected. And in case an unassuming foreigner offers his, it usually baffles natives and leaves them confused about how to react. The truth is that Indians don’t mind proximity and here the sense of personal space is almost nonexistent.

Indian culture is strongly built around communities, neighborhoods and a close family network. All festivities involve getting together large circles of acquaintances, friends, neighbors and families, a large scale of gathering that usually comes together in a comparatively small space. The explanation can be found in our traditional daily rituals. Our architecture too has evolved in response to these habitual needs.

The contrast to western culture is so great that understanding the loud, unmannerly, hospitable and food obsessed Indian culture cannot come easily. Nor is the significance of the traditional dark narrow streets, courtyard houses and absence of open spaces immediately clear. But on a closer look, the traditional architecture of the old city can be seen to meet the socializing needs of people. At every level the built fabric responds to the culture of congregation, celebration and food, where notions of privacy or segregation are almost non-existent.

The narrow bendy streets of Shahjanabad are also the heart of commercial activity. These streets are formed by three to four storey houses on both sides with small shop fronts on the ground floor. The shop and house front is traditionally placed on a meter high plinth. A pedestal of sorts, this is used for various activities throughout the day, in the morning it’s used by the shop owners to sit and observe the activities on the street while sharing tea and debating politics. In the afternoon it’s used by prospective customers waiting to get inside the very small and tight shops and in the evening it is transformed into a place where children play or women of the house sit to interact with the neighbors. It is common to see this space used for activities that don’t ordinarily need to leave the house. Women can be seen cutting vegetables, embroidering cloth or enjoying their evening tea on the street.


The houses on the floor above are also in dynamic interaction with the street. The height of these residential floors helps shade the street from scorching sun and the façade of the houses respond to the street with small, colorful and ornate openings called Jharokhas. Somewhere between a small window and a balcony, these recessed windows with shutters are the means by which the residents interact with people on the street or in other houses. These Jharokas are used sit and observe daily activity on the street. And it’s also fairly common to see people screaming out loud from their windows to someone on the street or in the house in front/opposite?. The street is always alive with noisy and apparently chaotic commercial and social activity. However under the seeming chaos, everything works in perfect order and unison.

The traditional house is called a Haveli, which is a courtyard building formed by small rooms opening into it. It has[evolved as a response to the cultural and climatic needs of the region. Traditionally the Haveli is for a joint family that houses up to ten nuclear families. The courtyard is shaded by two three storied room on all sides and becomes an ideal place for children to play and men to idle around. All the daily activities of cooking, washing, eating are usually carried out in the open courtyard. So the courtyard functions as a kitchen, living room and family room at different times of the day. Since Indian women spend most of the day cooking, socializing for them involves doing this activity with relatives, neighbors and friends in their courtyard. And on a usual morning and evening, the haveli courtyard is as crowded and as loud as the street, with whistling pressure cookers, chatting women, playing kids and arguing men. The rooms are not used much, except for sleeping. The act of keeping to yourself in your room or wanting privacy is considered rude and is looked at with suspicion. The most private areas of the house like bathrooms are conspicuous by their absence. And it’s only recently that owners have started converting their store rooms into toilets, as traditionally these activities were not to be housed within the residential areas.

The intensity of activity, noise and crowd can be appalling to someone who’s foreign to Indian Culture. And the lack of civility might seem shocking, but the next time you bump into a local at Shahjanabad, instead of apologizing and walking past, try and make a conversation and it won’t be surprising if you end up spending the rest of your holiday with their extended family in the ancestral Haveli!



Saturday 17 April 2010

Beyond vision















While I took my friend to an ISKON temple at Soho, Oxford Street, I was taken on a blindfold journey to a place of her choice. And this is how it goes…

On a lovely bright sunny Saturday afternoon, I was blindfolded by Helen outside a stone archway. On entering it, I still felt like I was still in the open, and there was a sudden shrill by an assumingly young crowd that brisked past me. The feeling of being self-conscious never occurred to me, since I was going second, I was absolutely aware that the embarrassment was all Helens. I entrusted her to be my eyes as she guided me through. The ambience of the place suddenly turned a little cold and I could hear the echo of my footsteps, we crossed something of a dungeon / tunnel which ended into a place with a familiar smell of coffee. The ‘café’ didn’t seem too busy; the sounds were faint and distant. We kept moving, and I was guided by Helen holding my elbow. I held on to the wall as she left to take some pictures, the wall was smooth to touch and uneven in texture and slowly moved my hands and felt curved flutings of the columns. We moved on and reached the steps, I kicked and dragged my foot up to feel the steps and made my way up slowly. I think we reached a big Hall as the hall echoed with the sounds of the visitors. One of them exclaimed how beautiful it was, and for the first time I felt the frustration of not being able to see. We traced back our steps and my blindfold was removed, and the bright sun, hurt and blinded!

p.s. The identity of the place is still shrouded in mystery …




A journey within


Walking towards the ornate splendor in stone, one wonders at the meaning of these intricate sculptures. But on a closer and careful look, one vaguely recalls the references to the stories of Mahabharta and Ramayana. And gradually the narratives of the mythological stories told at bed time, come to life.

The bells begin to ring, and one is reminded that the evening prayers or Aarti has begun. It is an auspicious time and I move towards the congregation Hall and remove my shoes to attend the prayer ceremony. The stone below my feet has been worn smooth by innumerous disciples and it is still very warm with their constant touch. After washing my hands and feet in the water from the fresh water spring nearby, I climb the steps to the hall. On reaching the hall, I see others around me in the large colonnade, moving towards the garbhagriha or the centre of the temple.

As one moves towards the garbha griha, the sounds of bells becomes clearer and louder, the other sounds begin to drown and the natural light dims to an almost dark. One almost forgets the presence of so many others, as one concentrates on the sacred flame or “Aarti” being offered by the priest. Feeling the warmth of the flame and the strong, familiar and comforting smell of incense, one starts the journey around the GarbhaGriha or the womb of the temple. The space is now narrow, tight and dark but without guidance one starts moving in the direction, the darkness makes one feel the wall as one slowly takes the circumambulatory path. The stone is smooth to touch, but cold. The path is crowded, but one feels surprisingly distant and alone. And this passage ends with the sight of the sacred flame again. Like a journey within and back, one suddenly finds oneself back amongst the other disciples. The sight has adjusted itself and now one begins to see others around. The Sanskrit chants recited by the Priest have no meaning to me but their rhythmic sounds and vibrations have a meditative effect. I close my eyes and contemplate. The sublime experience of this religious ritual undoubtedly reinforces one’s existence in the world. Bowing my head in respect, I move out with a new light inside.