india
India Reflections on a semester in Delhi with the National Identity and the Arts program from September–December 2014 Words and photos by Suchita Chadha Created in April 2016
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An Off-Season December Road Trip
Broken Exploring the Mehrauli Ruins of Delhi
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Glimpses Photo & Poetry Series Diwali in Delhi (Untitled): A Prose Poem Benaras Monsoon Season: A Poem
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Defining Kerala
DEFINING KERALA AN OFF-SEASON DECEMBER IN THE SOUTH INDIAN STATE ON THE MALABAR COAST
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For me, green and white were the defining characteristics of my week-long visit to the southwestern Indian state. My first real road trip, everything we did and saw was always on the way to our destination of the day—the place we’d be sleeping for the night. It’s safe to say we saw a lot, visiting six cities in four days and driving through many more. None of it was unexpected per se, but it was still a bit of a shock to my system. From the heat to the landscape, it was all around very different from my usual winter at home.
Kerala is located along the southern tip of India, along the western Malabar Coast and with the Laccadive Sea on its western shore and the Western Ghats along the eastern. Its geographic positioning gives the state three distinct regions despite it being such a narrow land, with mountains, rolling hills and coastal plains. Historically, Kerala has been a renowned spice exporter since 3000 B.C. It is this spice trade that later enticed the Portuguese and the Dutch to set their eyes on India, paving a way for the European colonies prevalent in 15th century South India, while the Islamic dynasties of the Delhi Sultanate and
then the Mughals conquered North India. Although the cultural influence of those Europeans—who only conquered a fewer minor regions in comparison to the Mughals—is still somewhat evident, it’s the British legacy from the late 19th century that truly changed the face of India. In the Western Ghats mountain region, particularly around Munnar, a hill station in the east Kerala Idukki district, tea plantations cover near 60,000 acres of the sloping hillsides. When the British East India Company set about establishing rule on the continent, mass tea production became integral to Indian economy. Tea, while native to some parts of India, had been scarcely used. Even then, it was only for the purpose of Ayurvedic medicine. The company’s goal was to outdo the Chinese, where tea bushes are an indigenous plant, and they did so by planting imported Chinese tea seeds. Though the East India Company initially began creating plantations in the North East (Assam and later Darjeeling), the tropical climate of Kerala made it an ideal location for further expansion. Today, alongside coconuts, coffee and a whole range of spices, tea plays a big role in sustaining the agricultural economic growth. Green and white. There’s just something about the blurred tea and approaching
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I may have been born in India and have even spent time growing up in the Middle East, but when I think of December, I think of the snow falling past my apartment window in Mississauga, Canada. I think of the biting wind that sneaks between the buttons of my coat and whips my hair back and forth. I think of gray, white and brown landscapes, dotted with red, blue and pink holiday lights. I think of hot chocolate warming my hands through mittens and steaming up my glasses. The one thing I don’t think about? Green. And yet there I was in Kerala, surrounded by the colors of spring and summer in the middle of December.
OPENING SPREAD A VIEW OF THE NILGIRI HILLS FROM ERAVIKULAM NATIONAL PARK PREVIOUS OVERLOOKING THE TATA TEA GARDENS BY THE ANAYIRANKAL DAM
CENTRE HOUSE BOATS ON THE BACKWATERS OF ALLEPPEY, KNOWN AS THE VENETIAN CAPITAL OF KERALA BOTTOM VIEW OUT OF A SUMMER RESORT IN MUNNAR, A HILL STATION IN THE IDUKKI DISTRICT SITUATED IN THE WESTERN GHATS MOUNTAIN RANGE
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LEFT CLOSE UP OF TEA PLANTATIONS AT ERAVIKULAM NATIONAL PARK IN THE NILGIRI HILLS
mist that defines Kerala in a very special way. A lot of the green we saw as drove to different cities was just the standard shrubbery and grasslands found in count-less other places. But it seemed that every time I looked out the window, I would see the clouds come down to kiss the tea plantations. The slogan given to Kerala is “God’s own country” and it’s these kind of moments, when there is no sky and no land, that places it beyond the world we live in.
despite the fact that women in Kerala generally have a higher standing in society as compared to elsewhere in India. The democratic nomination of the Communist Party of India in the state brought about many educational and social reforms. In conjunction with the matrilineal tradition that puts the woman at the head of the household, Kerala is also the only state where women outnumber the men, which has been important in increasing opportunities for women.
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But it seemed that every time I looked out the window, I would see the clouds come down to kiss the tea plantations. To further jostle my notion of winter and summer, the rain was plentiful during our visit to Munnar. While it kept us in the car, it didn’t deter the tea pickers from working through trails carved into the plantations: a mosaic showing the history of their land. The trails have created a puzzle-like quality to the gardens, and the women who weave through the maze, still harvesting by hand with plastic veils to fight of the heavy rains, are experts at navigating the grounds. What’s interesting about this scene is the sense of gender disparity that persists
However, upward social mobility is still influenced by gender and there is much to do before proper equality is achieved. The women in the fields also demonstrate the economic hardships of working within the tea industry and the exploitation of poor laborers by large corporations. Kerala in particular was recently in the media when nearly 6,000 women under the name of Pempilai Orumai (“women’s unity”) protested against the plantation company and male trade union leaders alike. They successfully shut down Munnar, one of Kerala’s most popular tourist destinations,
There were other colors, of course. Whenever South India is portrayed in films, the colors are vivid and saturated. But the green lacking in my usual December was so plentiful that it dominates my memories of Kerala. For a state that is teeming with flora and fauna—some natural, some imported— it seems fitting. Though I saw quite a bit. I’m determined to go back, if only to find more colors hidden in pockets of green. ◊◊◊
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and the women’s initial demands were met after nine days. Notably, they have entirely separated from the male-dominated union leaders to represent themselves. It is, in part, a testament to some of the state’s better policies that enabled the women to mobilize as they did. Through the education reforms in place from the Communist Party, as well as the mass education drives initiated by the government and private organizations, the literacy rate in Kerala—93.91 percent according to the 2011 census—is the highest in India. This is a characteristic shared equally by men and women.
THE RAIN SCARCELY STOPPED BUT THE WOMEN WERE JUST AS UNRELENTING IN THEIR WORK, STANDING STRONG AMONGST ALL THE GREEN AND WHITE.
Though there is a copious amount of natural beauty in the state, it is the tea gardens that give off an almost ethereal feeling to the landscape.
BROKEN EXPLORING THE MEHRAULI RUINS OF DELHI
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The Mehrauli Archaeological Park is a 200 acre area in the Mehrauli neighbourhood of South Delhi. It documents a history from circa 731 AD when the Tomar dynasty founded the fort city of Lal Kot. The ruins, found in this park, make it the oldest extant fort in Delhi. As Dehli came under the rule of several different dynasties, the area has bit and pieces left of all of them, with over 100 historically significant monuments.
Is this the India we should be seeing? When I compare it to any of the touristheavy places we visited, I want to say yes. This is the India that existed long before a lot else was around. The India that had a culture, a lifestyle, and to some extent, even a religion that we perhaps wouldn’t even recognize today. The India that is so old, but still stands strong, a foundation that hasn’t changed, even as we come in to accommodate it for the present. But is this the India we’re presented with? As travellers, we so often need to consider that the reality of a place is unlike our perception of it, but what hand has India had in shaping these perceptions? As a country (and they’re not the only one) that wants tourists to spend money to see those “exotic” monuments, to what end has tourism over powered the historical and cultural need to preserve places like Mehruali? The restoration and preservation of ancient monuments in India has been of importance only in more recent decades. Even then, there’s been a bias towards those places that would draw in the most people. The buildings in the Mehrauli Archeological Park continue to be overlooked as “better” monuments take precedence, despite the obvious history that is, for now, still buried in the rubble. Efforts are being taken by a few groups,
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Looking back at my photos, I realized that this is the first place we were taken to. The first piece of history to look at and learn about. In the months to come, we’d go see many more places, all of which are more famous, and it strikes me that this was an interesting choice. Was it purposeful? I’m not sure. But it does suggest something important if you think about it, beyond the fact that this is the oldest fort city in Delhi.
but between a lot of talk and little action, it doesn’t really stand to be compared to any of the other recognized historical sites.
PREVIOUS BUILDING RUINS AT MEHRAULI ARCHAEOLOGICAL PARK, DELHI.
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ABOVE RAJON KI BAOLI—A THREE-STORYED STEEP WELL—BUILT DURING THE REIGN OF SIKANDAR LODI IN 1516 . BELOW WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN PART OF HOMES, OR EVEN HOMES THEMSELVES. RIGHT A WALL BY THE TOMB OF GHIYAS UD-DIN BALBAN, A TURKIC RULER OF THE DELHI SULTANATE FROM 1266—1287.
The buildings at Mehrauli are broken. Of course they are. But the history that lies there isn’t. We’re all victim to the tendency of telling the grandest of stories first. To tell of the Taj Mahal over some ruins and overgrown shrubbery first. But I truly enjoyed seeing this place. Trying to imagine a mother cooking for her family in the small room there, and maybe the one down there was a place to sleep, and here is where the animals were kept, and over there is where they would have a market spread for travellers. It’s absolutely spectacular to be able to walk by what might have been a little girl’s favorite place to hide from her brother as they played, or gaze at the water in the steep well from the same spot a young couple might have been romancing in, hidden away from the rest. There’s a sense of history being alive in ways that aren’t there at the Taj Mahal, despite all its beauty and splendour. If you’re going to be in Delhi, try and book a walk with a guide. You could certainly go there on your own, but you may miss some of the quirky insights a guide would provide. More importantly, you might not notice beautiful parts of the architecture that are, unfortunately, almost non-existent today. ◊◊◊
of the Taj in
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GLIMPSES
Agra
of Diwali in Delhi
(Untitled) Dreams and memories merge together: mine yours, his, hers, like waves racing to meet the shore, they jump and dive and hold hands tightly. I breathe in. It’s clean and cold but all I smell is the dust of Old Delhi, frozen at the intersection of Chandni Chowk that shuffles into Diwali preparations as though no time has passed. The oldest and most noble, the ideal son of King Dasharatha, Rama who let himself be exiled. His Sita, faithful wife to the end, and Lakshman, the eternally loyal brother.
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And on the other side, the demon side, the evil, the jealous, the revengeful, the King of Lanka, his ten heads all consumed with the task of kidnapping Sita and defeating Rama. A journey. A battle. A victory. The end of an exile. A grand homecoming lit with diyas, illuminating a village. Four characters of the Ramayan, the mythical truths of India’s history immortalized by oil lamps. In the bustle of Delhi, the oil lamps still burn inside windows and outside doors as the city prepares for the grand festival. Mothers begin sweeping out each corner, under carpets over shelves and behind almaris that are already bursting with new sarees for the big day; fathers begin pulling money aside to buy Diwali gifts and firecrackers and sparklers and, just two days before Diwali, something gold for Dhantaras to bring prosperity to the house; children begin lighting lamps and
painting with colourful rangoli powders, counting down to the day off schools.
And here, miles and hours away from family and home, Diwali smells different: there’s only the turkey of the still far Thanksgiving, the evergreens of an even further Christmas, and the pumpkin pies of the entire season. But, sometimes, I think I see Diwali hidden away like a secret only for me. Branches hold their last leaves like offerings to God; some are like the bright marigolds that will soon take their place at the feet of the Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity, the goddess of Diwali; others are the flames of hundreds of diyas flickering in the Autumn wind but never dying. Still, there’s one smell that’s the same, that I stole from memories and brought with me, that I hold on to with hands cupped against my face, like a Muslim praying for God’s blessing, letting its woodsy rural fragrance of home wash over me as dreams and memories crash onto the shore of wishes. October, 2015
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Out on the streets the mithaiwallahs start cooking up the boxes upon boxes of sweets they’ll sell, tossing laddoos from hand to hand to form the spherical bright orange favourite, so sweet you can taste the sugar when you breathe, just watching them in fascination; incense rolled in chandan burn by each shop front and overwhelm the whole space with the gently spiced muskiness of sandalwood to please the gods and purify the world.
of Benaras
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FRONT COVER INSIDE THE BHUL-BHULAIYA IN THE BARA IMAMBARA, LUCKNOW PAGE 18 SUNRISE BY THE TAJ MAHAL, AGRA PAGE 20 MANDIR SET UP AT MRS. MALIK'S HOME FOR DIWALI PAGE 21 MEHNDI ON MY HANDS FOR DIWALI IN DELHI PAGE 22 MEHNDI ON MY HANDS FOR DIWALI IN BOSTON (PHOTO AND HENNA COURTESY OF HEATHER CAUNT-NULTON) PAGE 24 TOP: GHATS ON THE GANGA IN BENARAS AT SUNSET BOTTOM: A BOY BATHING IN THE GANGA AT SUNRISE PAGE 25 TOP LEFT: THE DASHASHWAMEDH GHAT BEFORE SUNRISE TOP RIGHT: A DRINKING POT FLOATING IN THE GANGA BOTTOM RIGHT: A SADHU ON THE GHATS BOTTOM LEFT: A BOATSMAN ROWING ON THE GANGA PAGE 26 PURI BEACH IN ORISSA OVERLOOKING THE BAY OF BENGAL BACK COVER IN KANYAKUMARI, TAMIL NADU, THE SOUTHERN TIP OF INDIA
of rain in India
Monsoon Season The waves blush sweetly in wait, rolling in anticipation next to the sky’s steadily darkening cheeks. Warmed moisture sits in the breeze, making open strands of hair go wild and choreograph a rain dance. Toes curl into the hot concrete of this rooftop terrace as arms prepare for the cool embrace of the approaching guest. Day and night mingle softly, and I, feeling alone in this world, watch the sea rise to meet the city as the monsoon bursts from the clouds. April, 2015