At the Nek Chand Fantasy Rock Garden in Chandigarh.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Chandigarh...
...is perplexing, is something almost un-Indian. Where do I begin? On my ride from the train station to the hotel, I noticed the wide setbacks and wondered why people weren't taking up every inch of space out on the streets selling fruits, chai, samosas, saris, idols, strings of marigolds, and peacock feather fans. The extra-wide roads, too big for normal traffic have encouraged a different class of vehicles, the SUV. The traffic lights have countdowns and the rickshawallahs actually follow the rules of the roundabouts. My hotel is in a strip mall with a large parking lot out front. I was suprised to find that I had to go looking for a rickshaw... there weren't a dozen waiting outside my hotel ready to take me sightseeing. It's like culture-shock back to US culture, but still in India...
I admit, it's nice, cleaner, quieter. The people who live here are affluent, speak English well, and seem to be enjoying the parks and open spaces...
The City Museum exhibits old photos, maps, sketches, models, newspaper clippings and quotes that give an in-depth look at the planning of the city. After the trauma of partition in 1947, India needed to house the overwhelming number of refugees and Chandigarh was conceived. A site was selected based on a survey of its conditions and geography; an American architecture team led by Matthew Nowicki and Albert Mayer was hired to plan the new city, Chandigarh. When Nowicki died in a plane crash, the American team was dismantled and Le Corbusier and his team was hired to replace them. Corbusier based the city's master plan on 4 primary functions: living, working, circulation and care of body and spirit.
The plan is rigid and Corbu even went so far as to write a long-winded "constitution" as to how the city would operate, down to the finest detail of who will live where and what sort of businesses would operate and in what form. He designed housing, government buildings, sculpture and carpets for the city buildings.
What I found most interesting was that all of this planning seemed to help the middle class move up and but still doesn't care for the laborers, those who literally built the city and who provide all of the service jobs that allow the middle and upper classes to live comfortable lives. Corbu's plan didn't take these people into account and they now live on the fringes of the city, where the government has allotted a sliver of land. Over the past decades, as the city has grown, families have expanded, have had to subdivide their plots, and often rent out small parcels of land to other laborers. Village land that once supported a good milk industry for the city, now cannot support grazing cattle. As development progessed, these villages have become engulfed by the city, however, villages are exempt from the architecture and sanitation controls of the city, so they constitute a problem. Their population density is high while their water, electricity and sanitation is inadequate.
India has contrasts and irony everywhere you look. Chandigarh is at once beautiful, civilized, rigid, and modern. But it's also unsympathetic, detatched from the state of their country, and self-absorbed, if I may be so bold. I've only been here 2 days....
At the rose garden in Chandigarh, a sight unfamiliar in the India I've seen.
Le Corbusier's plan for the new city of Chandigarh, capital of Punjab.
On the train platform, a man is kneading dough.
I admit, it's nice, cleaner, quieter. The people who live here are affluent, speak English well, and seem to be enjoying the parks and open spaces...
The City Museum exhibits old photos, maps, sketches, models, newspaper clippings and quotes that give an in-depth look at the planning of the city. After the trauma of partition in 1947, India needed to house the overwhelming number of refugees and Chandigarh was conceived. A site was selected based on a survey of its conditions and geography; an American architecture team led by Matthew Nowicki and Albert Mayer was hired to plan the new city, Chandigarh. When Nowicki died in a plane crash, the American team was dismantled and Le Corbusier and his team was hired to replace them. Corbusier based the city's master plan on 4 primary functions: living, working, circulation and care of body and spirit.
The plan is rigid and Corbu even went so far as to write a long-winded "constitution" as to how the city would operate, down to the finest detail of who will live where and what sort of businesses would operate and in what form. He designed housing, government buildings, sculpture and carpets for the city buildings.
What I found most interesting was that all of this planning seemed to help the middle class move up and but still doesn't care for the laborers, those who literally built the city and who provide all of the service jobs that allow the middle and upper classes to live comfortable lives. Corbu's plan didn't take these people into account and they now live on the fringes of the city, where the government has allotted a sliver of land. Over the past decades, as the city has grown, families have expanded, have had to subdivide their plots, and often rent out small parcels of land to other laborers. Village land that once supported a good milk industry for the city, now cannot support grazing cattle. As development progessed, these villages have become engulfed by the city, however, villages are exempt from the architecture and sanitation controls of the city, so they constitute a problem. Their population density is high while their water, electricity and sanitation is inadequate.
India has contrasts and irony everywhere you look. Chandigarh is at once beautiful, civilized, rigid, and modern. But it's also unsympathetic, detatched from the state of their country, and self-absorbed, if I may be so bold. I've only been here 2 days....
At the rose garden in Chandigarh, a sight unfamiliar in the India I've seen.
Le Corbusier's plan for the new city of Chandigarh, capital of Punjab.
On the train platform, a man is kneading dough.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Republic Day
My last day in Delhi, and it's a holiday. I've got my train ticket to Chandigarh, a relatively easy procedure thanks to the International Tourists Bureau at the station near my hotel. I bought myself a chenille throw: the only way people stay warm here is to wrap themselves with fabrics and blankets. Chandigarh is north of Delhi at the very foot of the Himalayas and I expect it to be cold. I saw a 3-D relief map today of flat India against the sudden extreme height of the Himalayas and I'm in awe. I hope I have time to go up to one of the hill stations nearby.
Shops are shuttered for Republic Day today and security is tight. The Red Fort has been closed all week and today entrances to Pahar Ganj neighborhood were blocked off with metal detectors and guards who search every person's bags no matter how long it takes. The internet places won't let you on until you give up your passport. And many streets are pedestrians only today. I haven't seen any celebrations yet, but a couple nights ago a marching band was going up and down the streets by my hotel, drumming at first in a rhythmic beat with trumpets blaring a tune, then turning into a ridiculous, chaotic banging and shouting, a bit of hysteria in their joy. There are some serious formal parades inside the Fort today, which I'm not daring to try to get to, for fear of being trampled, shoved, turned away or whatever else could possibly happen to a small person like me.
Instead, I'm taking my time, walking the streets, observing. Here's what I saw today: I saw a cow pee right behind some policemen who looked, but didn't seem to mind even though I suspect they might've been splashed on. I saw a mini-accident where a car and motorcycle collided (gently) head-on. No one was hurt, so they just re-arranged their driving positions and moved along. Ladies get henna on the streets- a man squirts the dark jelly from a tube onto their hands in curly flowery designs. Another lady was curled up in her own sari, sleeping on a wooden pallet at the market. A man stepped up on the pallet and tilted it suddenly so the sleeping woman almost rolled right off. Everything , every corregated metal roof, tarp roof is covered in a thick layer of settled pollution, everything brown brown, grey brown. A street vendor meticulously arranged bangles for sale in lime green, red and gold, hot pink. The old fashioned bangles were made of glass, which women wore tens of for the clink-clang sound until they broke. Nowadays they're made of resin and have a different kind of jingle I think. I found some old thick glass bangles at a store that sells old things, called Obscure Arts in Jodhpur and bought a couple.
On my walk through Pahar Ganj, the electrical wires in a ridiculous webby tangle above the streets hang sometimes only a couple feet above my head. A man on the street was dying fabric in a small pot over a fire, then draping it over the low hanging wires to dry. I watched as a long piece of chiffon was pulled out of the pot, half lemon yellow, half a brilliant fluorescent pink.
I stopped for jalebis at a stand where they drizzle a sugary batter into a huge wok of oil heated over a fire, the jalebis coming out as crispy, super-sweet, saffron-infused candy swirls. I ate as much as I could and just as I wasn't sure what to do with the rest (no garbage cans, of course) a beggar with his little boy held out his hand to me. I gently offered my jalebi and they looked pleased. I smiled, glad nothing went to waste.
Outside the sweets shops, the ground is littered with leaf plates, coming apart, turning to dust. These are their disposable wares: half bowl, half plate, they use no glue, just a few leaves overlapping, pressed with a vice into shape, secured with by a few quick stitches of the stem. They hold together long enough for you to finish your kheer- a soupy rice pudding with cardamom and pistacio. You can litter these all you want, no harm, it's just leaves!
Texture
Blue City of Jodhpur
At the weavers cooperative, Bishnoi village
At the potter family's home and work, a craft passed down for several generations
Jalis at the Meharangarh fort at Jodhpur
Water
Jodhpur: Parrots and other birds everywhere in this ancient city which might be my favorite of all Indian cities
Udaipur: Ghats- where people bathe, pray and wash clothes. This is the largest of 7 manmade lakes in Udaipur, the other 6 acting as overflow ponds, strung in a series. When there was no monsoon for three years, these lakes dried up and one could walk right up to the "floating" Palace Hotel seen in the background.
Ahmedabad: filtering water with a sari
Ahmedabad: Rainwater harvesting cistern is below this courtyard in a Pol (neighborhood). It can hold 100,000 litres of rainwater which is collected from all the roofs surrounding the courtyard. The cistern is made of limestone which increases in strength over time and helps to purify the water. The brass bucket and rope shown is thrown down the octagonal hole with the flick of the wrist to tip it to the water properly, then pulled up by hand.
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