Delhi
India
India, the land of grand architecture, spiritual rituals, colourful festivals and some of the best food on the planet, had long been on our bucket list. With both of our workplaces closing over the Australian summer period, we seized the opportunity to visit the vast, populous country. Having only 1 month available we knew we couldn't see it all, so we focused on the central Delhi, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh regions, saving the rest for another time.
Danny decided a heart attack was a great way to start our holiday. About a minute after jumping out of the Uber at the airport in Australia, Danny realised he had left his bag - the one containing his passport - in the backseat. Luckily for us, Uber faces this problem often enough that it has created a quick way to alert our driver to our predicament. Ten minutes later Danny was reunited with all his important documents and we were walking into the terminal.
Danny had pre-booked dental work in Delhi, mostly because it was much cheaper than Australia. Being left to explore the hectic city alone meant I was free to cover most of it on foot. Despite being exhausted after enduring 22 hours of travel yesterday, I still ended up traversing over 30 km walking between and around the sites. This would become a common theme of my time in India.
We were staying in a quiet, leafy area of the Hauz Khas district in South Delhi. Walking towards my first destination, the Lotus Temple, the peacefulness soon disappeared. For the rest of the day (and the next 4 weeks), I found myself surrounded by the incessant, exasperating blare of horns. Tuk-tuks, cars, buses, trucks and cycle rickshaws were all vying for limited road space and only casually observing the road rules. Footpaths were not walker friendly, meaning pedestrians added to the chaos on the street.
Surprisingly, it was extremely smoggy (the internet described the air quality as 'hazardous') and bitterly cold. Everyone talks about how hot India is, but I guess they don't travel in December. I definitely didn't bring enough warm clothes with me.
The Lotus Temple is a Baha'i House of Worship but welcomes all faiths. Although it was built in 1968, it appeared much more modern. A small exhibition described all the virtuous elements of their religion, which I mostly agreed with, as well as photos of the numerous over-the-top temples they had built around the world, which left me questioning their priorities.
Once I had removed and 'checked in' my shoes, I walked up the stairs to the architectural marvel. Consisting of 27 white marble petals standing 34 metres high, the eye-catching central building contrasted sharply to the surrounding blue pools and neat gardens. However, trying to be impressed by a white temple on a grey day is difficult, and the angles we were permitted to take photos from were awkward. I could still see its beauty, just not in all its glory.
Inside, I happened to catch a 10-minute service, consisting of a series of devotees singing a verse from the Bible one at a time. Although I couldn't understand much of what they were saying (it was mostly in Hindi), the acoustics were incredible, almost ethereal, as their voices reverberated around the large dome. Sadly, we weren't allowed to take photos inside, because it was just as grand as the exterior.
It was another long walk to reach Humayun's Tomb, passing by wild monkeys and tiny palm squirrels along the way. Convenience stores and supermarkets were strangely absent, with street carts and hole-in-the-wall stores seeming to be the preferred method of shopping. The horns were unrelenting. I think I may be partially deaf.
Out the front of the site I bought my first street food (hoping it wouldn’t be followed by my first bout of gastro): veg momos with chilli sauce. They were amazing. I already know I’m going to love the food here.
Humayun's Tomb is a grand sandstone and marble mausoleum built in 1570 for the second Mughal emperor and over 150 of his family members. It is said to be the first garden tomb in India and a major influence for the Taj Mahal. Straight away I was enraptured by the understated architecture found in the various structures within the grounds. The main tomb was gigantic, standing 47 metres high with a broad dome on top. The interior held several carved cenotaphs lying within high-vaulted chambers (Humayun's actual remains lay in a crypt below the building), while decorative lattice screens covered the windows. The play of light and shadows on the surfaces was mesmerising.
Walking around the sparse, quadrangle courtyards I found more tombs and mosques, each small in size but beautifully constructed. Being a large site meant I blissfully found myself alone at times, and the lack of traffic noise was a welcome relief from the chaos of Delhi's streets. I could have stayed here much longer, but my list was long and the day was short.
Reaching Akshadham Temple wasn't straightforward but was definitely worth it. Annoyingly, no phones or cameras (or anything electronic, including earbuds) were allowed within the grounds, not even the exterior gardens, so I have no evidence I even visited. Thousands of carvers and volunteers were involved in the 5-year project, which was completed in 2005. It was constructed as a tribute to Lord Swaminarayan, who was considered to be a manifestation of Krishna. Living between 1731-1830, he was a spiritual leader and social reformer, aiming to live an honest, compassionate and non-violent life.
I followed the masses to the main temple, where again I deposited my shoes and walked up the stairs to the entrance. What I found inside was jaw-dropping. Many websites describe Indian tourist attractions as having 'intricate carving', but this was a world beyond intricate. The tiniest of details had been chiseled into the sandstone and marble structure, not only the walls but also the 43-metre-high ceiling. It was unfathomable how much effort had gone into creating the extraordinary scene in front of me. I wished I'd been able to capture the elaborateness of the site.
The exterior was also exquisitely detailed, although pollution had discoloured the white surface. I found myself drawn to the bottom level of the monument, where scenes of elephants in daily life had been carved into the walls. Also around the site were manicured gardens and large fountains, although none of them were turned on. If I had been permitted to have a camera I think I would have stayed an hour longer than I did.
Two things I already love about Delhi: free public toilets (despite no toilet paper) and free drinking water at tourist sites. Throwing toilet paper into the toilet, not a bin, was another bonus. Did this make up for the constant assault on my ears thanks to all the horns? The jury is still out.
India is full of stepwells, which are ancient, open-air water storage systems that capture rain during the monsoon season to provide a source of drinking water and irrigation throughout the dry season. Steps lead all the way down the sides, so no matter how low the water level becomes you can always reach the surface. They also acted as a meeting place in summer, with the temperature being much cooler inside than out. The most popular stepwell in Delhi is Agrasen Ki Baoli, running 60 metres deep and containing 108 steps down to the bottom. While I loved the symmetry of the stepwell and the reflection in the water, it wasn't as large or impressive as I was expecting. I had planned to visit many stepwells around India; I didn't think this one would end up at the top of my list.
Delhi's equivalent of the Arc de Triumph is the India Gate, built in 1931 and dedicated to soldiers who fought in WWI and the third Anglo-Afghan war of 1919. Over 70,000 Indians died during the battles. I arrived just before sunset, where the sinking sun bathed the walls in a pale orange light. Thousands of others had gathered here too, staring up at the unadorned arch being guarded by a lone soldier underneath. I wasn’t sure why the place was so popular but the hordes of people didn't entice me to stick around.
I met up with Danny for dinner at Hauz Khas Village, a funky neighbourhood near our accommodation. Narrow laneways, lit up by fairy lights, contained a number of Instagram-worthy restaurants, cafes, bars and boutique stores, a modern scene that felt out of place to the rest of Delhi. We sat down to a superb South Indian meal of dosas and vadas, then crashed in our room with our first bottle of Indian wine. The only place to purchase alcohol is at government-authorised liquor stores that sell mostly whiskey and, if you’re lucky, 1 or 2 bottles of local wine. We couldn’t actually enter the store; instead, we pushed through the male-only crowd on the street to reach the counter, where we shouted to one of the shopkeepers that we were after wine. He rummaged around and found a half bottle of red, with the price helpfully printed on the wine’s label so there was no way he could charge us ‘tourist prices’. It wasn’t as terrible as we imagined, although it cost us more than we would pay for a cheap wine in Australia.
Day One
Day TWO
It took me about 2 hours and 40 minutes to walk from Hauz Khas up to Old Delhi through mostly quiet streets on a Saturday morning. The weather was just as hazy and cold as yesterday, causing me to quicken my pace to stay warm. On the way I passed by the India Gate again. Standing only 10 metres away all I could see was its silhouette. The smog hung around all day.
Old Delhi definitely had a different feel to the rest of Delhi. The roads were narrower, the crumbling buildings taller and street vendors spilled out onto every available inch of pavement. It seemed like 90% of the city's tuk-tuks and cycle rickshaws were here, which meant I was hassled frequently. Overall, the vibe was much more hectic and, somehow, even louder than yesterday.
My first stop was Jama Masjid, built in 1656 and one of the largest mosques in India. Five thousand people were employed to build the temple, commissioned by the same Mughal emperor who constructed the Taj Mahal, Shah Jahan. Frustratingly, I couldn't find the entrance - I had circumnavigated 3 sides of the large complex to no avail. Eventually, a local man took pity on me and walked me around to the only side I hadn't searched, where I could finally enter the grounds. On the plus side, the open-air site was almost empty due to a rule that local people could not enter before 11 a.m. Although there wasn't much to see (most of it consisted of a bare, concrete courtyard), the archways of the pavilion to one side were beautiful.
Just outside the mosque was a street market selling winter clothing. With very little haggling I bought myself the warmest beanie I could find and wore it for the rest of the day. It really was that cold. (It would come in handy multiple times across our trip.)
Only a 10-minute walk down the road was the Red Fort, also built by Shah Jahan. Constructed between 1639-1647, it acted as a former residence for Mughal emperors. 23-metre high walls surrounded the octagonal site, which was filled with a variety of red sandstone and marble buildings. Former apartments, pavilions, gates, fountains, a mosque, stepwell, hammam and more were laid out over the vast fortress, with further buildings being reconstructed. Newer buildings had been added more recently to house museums, exhibitions and offices.
After entering through a gigantic red gate, the path led straight through a covered alleyway of souvenir stores adorned with colourful lights. It didn't scream 17th century to me, but apparently this area was a bazaar back in the day, so I guess it was keeping with the theme. There was no clear direction to follow within the fort, so I wandered aimlessly and hoped I would venture past the main sights. Leafy gardens and empty water channels filled most of the interior, while the monuments were set far apart from each other. Being so spread out meant I was by myself much of the time, which was a pleasant change. In general, none of the structures stood out as being overly impressive, and many looked exactly the same as each other. The most interesting part was leaving through the Delhi Gate, a vibrant red edifice bordered by 2 black marble elephants. I don't think I would have been upset if I had skipped the fort.
Another 10-minute walk led me to Chandni Chowk, once the oldest and busiest street market in Delhi. It was one of those markets where you could find anything and everything, but actually finding what you're looking for was the challenge. Multiple roads and laneways offered food, jewellery, books, stationery, clothing, sweets, electronics, handicrafts - the list was endless. As I had no intention of purchasing anything, I did my best to admire the goods while avoiding being approached by touts and stallholders.
Adjoining Chandni Chowk was Kharli Baoli, apparently Asia's largest wholesale spice market. It was just as frenetic. I didn't stay long.
I found a simple vegetarian restaurant in Chandni Chowk for lunch that Jamie Oliver had visited many years ago (his photo was all over the walls). I ordered the world's largest naan with dal for a very small price, a simple meal that delivered in taste and satisfaction. It's not hard to enjoy the food here.
Walking back to Hauz Khas was a different experience. Now that everybody was out and about, there were more calls for transport, more street stalls covering the footpath, more pedestrians and more horns. I cherished being back at our accommodation, where I could briefly escape the noise and calamity of the city.
Day THREE
It wasn't an overly long walk to reach Gandhi Smriti, the house where Mahatma Gandhi lived out his final 144 days and the site of his assassination. He occupied 2 sunlit rooms in a modest two-storey residence, and held prayers every night in an adjacent open garden. The former house (now museum) contained a barrage of information and photos of his life, including all the causes he stood up for and the numerous times he was detained by the police. He always assumed that his days were numbered, and that came true in 1948 when he was murdered one night as he was arriving to perform his evening prayers. A series of concrete footsteps recreated his final walk, and a column marked the location where the execution occurred. Overall, the venue was well set up and illustrated his crucial role in the social change that occurred across India and further afield, but there was just too much information to take in.
Down the road from Gandhi Smriti were the Lodhi Gardens, a green oasis in the middle of the concrete city. Filled with tree-lined paths and wide open spaces for family picnics, it was a peaceful escape from the incessant horns. Several 15-16th century tombs were scattered about, appearing through the trees in a manner that reminded us of the ruins around Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Each was unique and offered multiple photo opportunities of the captivating angles. Elsewhere in the park was a large, man-made lake filled with bird life, including dozens of honking geese, plus a plethora of the tiny palm squirrels that had now become a common sight around the city.
Outside the park we feasted on another common street food, bhel puri. Containing a mixture of puffed rice and other grains, broken chickpea noodles, peanuts, coriander chutney, tamarind chutney, chilli, spices, lemon and fresh coriander, it was more reminiscent of Thai food than Indian, but it was refreshing, delicious and filling for only A$2.50 a bowl (and that was the marked up tourist price).
Not far from the gardens was Safdarjung Tomb, a sandstone and marble mausoleum constructed in 1754 for a former Mughal prime minister by his son. This was the last garden tomb to be built during the reign of the Mughal Empire, and the first to be commissioned for a person outside the royal family. The site consisted of an extravagant domed tomb in the centre of a plain square garden, with a couple of neglected buildings running along the edges. Although it wasn't nearly as elaborate as Humayun's Tomb, and didn't have the grandeur of other sites I had visited, the architecture was interesting enough to hold our attention for a short while.
The Lodhi Art District is India's first open-air public art museum, featuring around 60 murals painted onto the facades of buildings over several streets. Beginning in 2015, both local and international artists have added to the district, covering a range of themes and styles. Some were simply artistic expressions, a few were dedicated to specific causes, while others celebrated accomplished people in various fields. Most of the dilapidated buildings featured arched entranceways, looking through to interior courtyards overgrown with trees. The area was fairly quiet, which made for a relaxing stroll among the vibrant, creative artworks. I only wished there had been information signs about what the pieces represented.
While walking through the Lodhi Art District I bought a pair of gloves, while Danny purchased a beanie for himself. The weather hadn’t improved, and we didn't have enough layers to wear. I wished we had known how cold it would be before leaving Australia.
Our dinner destination was Dilli Haat, an open-air market featuring retailers from all over India. Stalls are offered on a rotational basis to artists and vendors from all corners of the country, in the hopes of preserving the rural heritage of the nation. Most of the handicrafts for sale were traditional clothing and jewellery, which didn't interest us much. On the other hand, the food was very tempting. Dozens of stalls offered a wide range of options, although they mostly offered the same dishes (despite each outlet supposedly representing a different region). Surprisingly, no one was selling the classic Australian Indian dishes like vindaloo, tikka masala, rogan josh or butter chicken. That didn't worry us too much. In the end, we settled for 2 types of momos (extremely popular here, despite being a Tibetan/Nepalese dish) and thali with roti. The food was excellent, and we could have easily ordered a dozen more dishes if our stomachs would have allowed it.
Day FOUR
The weather hadn't miraculously improved this morning, but now that I was kitted up in a brand new beanie and gloves in addition to 3 top layers of clothes, I didn't freeze to death.
With Danny at the dentist again, I was on my own for another day of sightseeing. Near our accommodation was Deer Park, an expansive green space surrounding the Hauz Khas Village we visited on day 1. A 13th-century water storage tank, now an ugly reservoir, filled in the centre, while ruins of tombs and pavilions were dotted around the park. Each structure was hidden in the foggy, dense forest and only revealed themselves when I was on top of them. There was also a large fort bordering one side, but it was closed this early in the morning. Other than a few people playing badminton, it was eerily quiet.
Being called Deer Park I expected to see deer, and I did. Sadly, the sizeable pack was kept in a fenced-off enclosure with no discernible entrance. Occasionally I glimpsed them through the mesh netting, sharing their space with a flock of peacocks (at least the birds could fly away). Other animals spotted in the park included the ubiquitous squirrels, timid wild dogs, pigeons, geese and a troop of macaques, who disappeared as soon as I approached.
I wasn’t sure what the historical site of the Qutab Minar complex was going to offer, but it definitely exceeded any expectations. This set of monuments was slightly older than those I had seen so far (constructed between 1199-1220), but they undeniably delivered in wow factor. Around the premises were mosques, tombs, pillars and gates, built in an Indo-Islamic architectural style. The defining feature was the 73-metre tall victory tower, which commemorated the first time Islamic invaders had defeated the local Hindus. From afar, the structures could have almost passed for Roman or Greek ruins with their series of columns and archways, but up close you could see the intricate Islamic carvings on the red sandstone. The details weren't quite at the level of Akshadham, but they weren't far off. Given the site was mobbed with people, trying to take a photo without a hundred people in it proved difficult.
Just as I had covered the enormous complex, blue skies decided to make a rare appearance. I had a choice to make: stay and retrace my steps to see the structures illuminated by the sun, or move on to the next attraction. I chose to stay, wanting to appreciate at least one tourist attraction in this city with the sun out. Of course hundreds more visitors had arrived by this time, making the challenge of a person-free photo virtually impossible. Despite this, I appreciated seeing Qutub Minar in a much better light.
Next door to Qutab Minar was Mehrauli Archeological Park, a sprawling wooded area containing a series of ruins from the 11th century onwards. Unlike Qutab Minar, it was a much more peaceful affair, with no crowds and most visitors enjoying picnics on the open lawns. Monuments were scattered about, some not restored at all and sitting behind tall fences, while other tombs, mosques and a stepwell had been well maintained. Exploring the main tomb required purchasing a ticket, which I opted not to do, although I'm sure it would have been superb. In general, the site was interesting but it had nothing on Qutab Minar.
It was here that I had my first experience of being asked for a selfie, when 4 young adults each wanted their photo taken with me one by one. I had heard about this phenomenon online, and it would happen repeatedly for the rest of our trip (sometimes multiple times per day). Not being someone who likes their photo being taken, this made me extremely uncomfortable. Soon after the photo incident, several young kids each came up to shake my hand, another act I would prefer to avoid. Two minutes later, I was head-butted by a goat. It was all happening here. It felt like a very local way to finish my time in Delhi.
