In Pictures: Mumbai

Formerly (and still) known as Bombay.

Gateway of India

Capital city of Maharashtra.
A population bursting at its seams.
My images (I might add that I fell sick during the trip so the photographs here are only a very tiny slice of what Mumbai has to offer a visitor).


Dhobi Ghat at Mahalaxmi (below left). I doubt visitors are allowed within the grounds so one has to see it from a bridge across the railway tracks near the Mahalaxmi train station.
On the right is Mount Mary Church in Bandra. It was closed at the time of my visit.





The causeway that leads to Haji Ali Dargah (left), and a glimpse of the shrine from Lala LajpatRai Marg (right).



Games of cricket at the Oval Maidan. The High Court and Rajabai Clock Tower are in the background in the 'Gothic section'.
On the right is a block of apartments in the 'Art Deco district', which also faces the Oval Maidan. Mumbai is second only to Miami in the number of Art Deco buildings. Some famous structures in this style include the Eros cinema.


The Watson (left). I was told this was the hotel that industrialist J N Tata was denied entry on account of being 'a native'. He later built the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower as a form of protest. At the time of my visit (2011), there were plans to restore this building.

Bandra-Worli Sea Link (right). It's officially known as Rajiv Gandhi Sea Link. It links Bandra in the Western Suburbs with Worli in South Mumbai. The bridge is a part of the proposed Western Freeway that will link the Western Suburbs to Nariman Point in Mumbai's main business district.


Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (CST), or Victoria Terminus (VT), a UNESCO World Heritage Site (bottom left). It is both historic and the country's busiest railway station. 

Recommended duration of stay
I'd give it 4-5 days (in that time you could include a trip to Elephanta Island, which is home to the Elephanta Caves -- another UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Get in/out
Mumbai has one of India's busiest airports and one of the main international gateways to the country. Many international airlines such as British Airways, Malaysia Airlines, Lufthansa, Qantas and Singapore Airlines fly into the city. You can also reach the city with low-cost carriers such as Air Asia and Indigo.

Trains arrive in Mumbai from all over the country.

Read!
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry (highly recommended)
Maximum City by Suketu Mehta (highly recommended)
Black Friday: The True Story of the Bombay Bomb Blasts by S Hussain Zaidi


 

Amritsar

As the van pulled out of the Amritsar train station to take us to my grandfather's village, an unease quickly started growing from within. What would we say to relatives we had not seen in over 10 years? More importantly, did we really want to have our every movement controlled by their overzealous hospitality?

the Golden Temple at night

A quick check with my mum revealed similar sentiments, and I scrambled to the driver to have him take us back to the city. He was far from amused of course, since we had agreed to pay him a decent sum, but dropped us off at the hotel where I had originally made a booking. It was not anything fancy, but its biggest draw was that it was situated, quite literally, just around the corner from the Harmandir Sahib, or Golden Temple, the holiest shrine for Sikhs. It was originally built in 1574 and rebuilt in the 1760s following an attack by the Afghans. The temple has four entrances, symbolising the openness of Sikhs towards all people and religions. It is undeniably the biggest attraction for visitors to the city. I would suggest visiting it twice, sometime in the day and after dark when the temple is bathed in light.

the entrance to Jalianwala Bagh

Close by is Jalianwala Bagh, a public park where in April 1919 a massacre had taken place. What started out as a peaceful demonstration was seen to be an act of defiance against a ban on all public meetings. Those gathered in the park (some estimates say up to 20,000) were shot at on the orders of British Brigadier-General Reginald E H Dyer. Official sources said 379 people were killed. Other figures run up to at least a thousand. Historians consider the episode as a decisive step towards the end of British rule in India. The park now commemorates those who died in the massacre. Personally though, I didn't quite like what I saw of this historical site (even if the intentions were noble) because it looks too made-up. Some of the surrounding buildings still bear bullet holes from the incident. A well into which people jumped in an attempt to save their lives is also standing; it is a protected monument and mostly meshed up.

the crowd during the border-closing
ceremony

The other must-have experience while you're in Amritsar is to make your way to Attari-Wagah for the border closing ceremony which takes place every day. The atmosphere is nothing short of carnivalesque, what with the loud music and stalls selling snacks, flags and other trinkets for a fifteen minute display of jingoism on both sides of the border (although I did notice that the Pakistani side was a lot more subdued). When the show ends though, you're likely to see people rush to the gates to meet friends or relatives stuck on the other side.

Of course, what's a visit to Amritsar without good Punjabi food! I found out about Bhrawan da Dhaba (right) from a friend's sister, who recommended it and spoke of (among other things) rotis dipped in generous amounts of ghee. She wasn't far from the truth, but I'm happy to report that my heart stood strong as the butter slid menacingly into my body. My mum and I had two rotis each and a bowl of daal makhni between us, much to the surprise of the guy serving our table. The other patrons were constantly calling him and his colleagues over for more bread, more this or that. My mum and I, on the other hand, sat in our quiet corner struggling with one bowl of daal. When we finally called the guy over, it was only for the bill. Where are these guys from, he must have wondered.
Anyway, the story goes that the brothers who set up Bhrawan da Dhaba had a falling out and one of them broke away and opened another restaurant right next door. I did not go to the other one, so if you do, let me know which is better (if at all). Another well-known restaurant worth checking out is Crystal on Cooper Road. Here you'll find both vegetarian and non-vegatarian options. I personally loved the tandoori fish.

Recommended duration of stay
2 days, 1 night. Enter in the afternoon and leave the next afternoon. This would be most suitable if you're coming from and returning to Delhi.

Getting in and away
Trains for Amritsar Junction leave from New Delhi Railway Station and take about 6-7 hours on the Shatabdi Express.
Flights are mostly to Delhi, though Jet Airways flies to London, Air India to Toronto and Qatar Airways to Doha. There are connections to Central Asia as well.
Buses run from Amritsar to several Punjabi cities, as well as Delhi.

Read!
The Butcher of Amritsar: General Reginald Dyer by Nigel Collett
Amritsar: Mrs Gandhi's Last Battle by Mark Tully
A History of the Sikhs by Khushwant Singh

Scratching the surface of Southeast India

In early 2009, a group of us travelled to Nagapattinam, Tamil Nadu, India, for a friend's wedding. After giving her our blessings, four of us hung around a little longer to see a bit of this part of India. This is some of what we did:

beach cafe

overlooking the Bay of Bengal at The Blue Line

The first stop was the Union Territory of Pondicherry, or Puducherry. It's very tiny on the Indian map, but this enclave was the largest French colony in India! Not surprisingly then, there's a strong French influence in the city, especially in the old quarter. Lose yourself in the rues and boulevards lined with Mediterranean style houses and bakeries.


Sri Manakula Vinayagar Temple

Sacred Heart Church

But don't be expecting something right out of France though--the city remains very much Indian. The central canal splits Pondicherry between east and west, giving the city a dual personality.

Try renting bikes (if possible) to explore Pondicherry. There's very little traffic so cycling around should be quite a breeze.




Next up was Mamallapuram, or better known as Mahabalipuram. This town dates back to as far as the 7th century, and the structures here (mostly carved straight out of granite) are among the oldest existing examples of Dravidian architecture. One of the highlights here is the Shore Temple (right), part of the group of monuments that has been listed as a UNESCO heritage site. Other sites to consider include:

Five Rathas: This site contains five rathas, literally chariots, dating from the 7th century. The sculptures are complemented by some enormous stone animals, including a large elephant.


motorcycle diaries


Arjuna's Penance (left). A giant bas-relief filled with detailed carvings.

Krishna's Butterball is a giant natural rock perched precariously on a hillside. We saw people posing under it as if carrying the rock, or simply sitting under it. We preferred not to take chances.


 

Krishna's Butterball

Getting around: we rented mopeds to take in the sights. Quite thrilling, personally, considering the only vehicle I can confidently control is a bicycle. I'm happy to report though that I caused no accidents (and my pillion was most impressed until she found out I don't have a driving/riding licence).

The final stop for this trip was Chennai, formally known as Madras, which was the departure point for most of us. For that reason, I shall leave the city for another in-depth post if or when I visit it again.

Recommended duration of stay

Pondicherry and Mamallapuram are good for 2D1N each. Of course, if you want to hang around the ashram(s) and see more of Pondicherry, then more time would be required.

Getting around

Pondicherry and Mamallapuram are accessible by road via the East Coast Road. All three destinations are easily accessible via the East Coast Road. It also helps that they are separated by bus rides of a maximum of about 2 hours so you won't be wasting very much time on the road. Buses run between both towns several times a day, likewise to Chennai.

Lviv and its mixed heritage

There’s something peculiar about Lviv. I sensed it from the time I entered the town. It almost felt as if for good measure, Cyrillic alphabets had been stuck onto the board of a building which houses a McDonald’s restaurant along Shevchenko Prospekt, where my hostel is located. A walk around the city over the 4 days I spent there returned me to Poland, Austria, and to a much lesser extent, Kyiv. In fact, I would go as far as to say that Lviv felt less Ukrainian, or even Russian, than Kyiv. It almost seemed as if I had slipped into some other territory without passing through immigration.

Take the city’s historic heart for example. This part of Lviv survived the bombings of the Second World War and the ensuing occupations by the Nazis and Soviets. It has since been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The many arteries reveal several architectural styles that embellish Lviv. Neglect has however raised concerns, as I found out at an outdoor exhibition. Having read the detailed text and walked around the smaller alleys I came face to face with a city whose facades have grown wrinkly, windows peeled, and courtyards pimpled by loose stones. But awareness is growing and the people are making the effort to reverse this trend.

Before I reached Lviv, I was told that the town is a bite-sized version of Krakow in Poland. This should not come as a surprise, considering Lviv breathed Polish air for much of its history up till the mid-1940s. A stroll in the Lychakiv Cemetery confirms this, as one would find many Polish graves (on a related note, this cemetery is part of the tourist trail and is worth your while if you have time to spare). In the early 1940s, Lviv, which is also known as Lwów in Polish, fell under Nazi control. In 1944 it was captured by the Soviet Red Army. Subsequently, it was subsumed into Ukraine following the Yalta Conference. Poles living in Lviv were relocated, and Lviv was populated by Ukrainians with a Russian minority.  

It is little wonder then that pro-Ukrainian sentiments are the strongest in this part of the country. But this doesn’t mean to say that Lviv has totally shed its Soviet past. Look around and you will find Ladas plying the roads; hidden in some small street on the outskirt of the centre is that Stalinist building; there on another street you find a Soviet-style cafe (e.g. Kabinet Cafe) – perhaps for the tourists, or simply the nostalgic. Yet another reminder of the Soviet past is the absence of some houses on Chornomorska Street. In 1956, as Soviet tanks rumbled through the area, several houses came tumbling down. That space is now a playground.

Nevertheless, while Kyiv seems to turn east towards Moscow, Lviv prefers to assert its own identity and, if at all, lean West. The city claims to be the least Soviet in Ukraine, and its cafe culture is but one testament of its Central European credentials. I had firsthand experience in the form of the Lviv Coffee Festival. It was perhaps the highest form of tribute I have witnessed to a beverage that courses through tens of millions of veins every morning and indeed throughout the day. But how did coffee become synonymous with Lviv? Some say it was during its time under the Habsburg Empire that coffee made its debut in Lviv. Other sources say that it was in fact a son of Lviv who opened one of the first coffeehouses in Europe, even if his version of the drink was referred to as ‘coffee, Vienna style’ (with sugar and milk).

As I was winding up my visit to the city, I met a fellow tourist who arrived from Kyiv: a Russian from the city of St Petersburg who was visiting for the weekend. Several times he lamented the fact that the people refused to speak Russian even though they probably could. ‘They’re different from the Ukrainians in Kyiv’, he swore, ’they won’t even speak English!’ I listened and took his observation into account. My own experience suggested otherwise, because the Ukrainians were more than happy to accommodate an outsider (except Russians, perhaps?). Still, I couldn’t understand why the Ukrainians should be speaking anything other than their own mother tongue. I read somewhere that the Cold War ended over 20 years ago...


p/s I'd like to add that the entire Rus (including a much younger Moscow) originated from Kyiv. This is in relation to my point that Kyiv seems to look east to Moscow -- which refers to the Cold War/post-Cold War era. 

the elephant in the room

When you meet a local in Poland, it is likely that they will speak to you about one of two subjects: the partition of their country, or the Holocaust. The latter figured more prominently in my conversations with the various people I met for obvious reasons—one of which was simply the fact that it happened just 70 years ago.  

Poland once had one of the biggest Jewish populations in Europe. The Second World War and their calculated extermination by the Nazis reduced this number to a mere fraction. Since the fall of communism, it seems there has been some sort of a Jewish revival in the country. The construction of the Museum of the History of the Polish Jews in Warsaw is but one testament to this.

Nevertheless, the Holocaust weighs heavily on the Polish psyche. During the Communist era, the government preferred not to discuss the Jewish question because it was simply uncomfortable. Properties abandoned in the process of Jewish expulsion were redistributed after 1945. But the fall of the Communist government did not make things any easier. Jews who had left started coming back, partly to reclaim what was theirs. In Krakow, Maciek showed me some of the apartment blocks that had been occupied before they had been ghettoised. He added that many of the descendants have since engaged good lawyers in a bid to set things right. But what about the communities that have sprung up in those areas since the late 1940s and early 1950s?  

Beyond the legal tussle, it is the fate of the Jews during the Holocaust that remains a difficult subject. The Nazis built six concentration camps in Poland. Some were used as transit points, others had death written all over them. I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau though initially I had decided against it. The experience was not an easy one, even if I did not get particularly emotional.

I spoke about my visit to the camps with Przemek the next night. I told him how there have been times when I questioned the Holocaust – did it really happen? Why was it necessary to keep reminding the world? Haven’t there been other genocides before and after? Think Rwanda, Armenia, Ukraine, etc. I personally believe no statistic or duration of an atrocity makes one more grave than the other. But perhaps the systematic manner and the scale with which it happened, and the world’s preference to ignore the elephant in the room, offer some answers.

A recent documentary on the History Channel deals with the ghosts of the Third Reich, as does Daša Drndić’s novel, Trieste. Both touch on the descendants of the Nazis and Jews whose lives have been shaped by the events of the Second World War. A common thread that binds them is guilt: the Germans, for what their parents or grandparents did, and the Jews for having survived the Holocaust. One German woman found out about her grandfather’s involvement at a concentration camp. Another sterilised herself for fear of passing down the poison of hate. Elsewhere, the theme of survivor’s guilt is brilliantly explored in the 2010 French film Sarah’s Key. While talking to Przemek and other people I met in Poland, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were trying hard not to betray a personal link, albeit a very distant one, to the Holocaust.  

One link they definitely were distancing themselves from was the one established by US President Barack Obama sometime before his re-election. He described the concentration camps in Poland as ‘Polish’. To say this statement ruffled feathers barely scratches the surface. ‘It suggests that we had something to do with it,’ Przemek told me. ‘It was a Nazi camp, not Polish.’ I believe as much. But in this generation of bite-sized information, who takes notice? All that matters is that Poland is where a physical manifestation of Nazism stands. It is indeed unfortunate that geography was assaulted by politics and produced a history that the Poles continue to negotiate with.

Four days in Kyiv

Statue under the
Friendship of Nations Arch
(Арка Дружби Народів)

Kyiv (kee-uhv) is the capital of Ukraine and the birthplace of the Eastern Slavic civilisation. It was part of Russia for much of about 200 years from 1775. The city underwent intensive Russification before finally becoming the capital of independent Ukraine in 1991, following the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Someone told me that Kyiv is the most Russian city, even if it's no longer in that country. Why not find out for yourself? :)

Kyiv's Top Sights (in my opinion at least)

St Sophia's Cathedral (right): This is the oldest remaining church in the city and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Photography in the Cathedral itself is not permitted, but you're free to snap to your heart's content from the wedding cake of a belltower at the entrance. Note however that separate fees apply to climb the tower.


Khreshchatyk (Хрещатик) Street (left): The main street in Kyiv is where you'll find Stalinist-era buildings and several international brands. The street is closed off to traffic on weekends. 

a painting on one of the walls of
the Chornobyl Museum

Chornobyl Museum: Don't worry if you can't make it to the site itself (tours can be pretty pricey, depending on how many people are in your group), this museum in Kyiv provides a decent insight into the events surrounding the accident in April 1986. There are some signs in English, but the photographs should speak for themselves.

Andriyivsky Uzviz (Андріївський узвіз) or Andrew's Descent (left): At the top stands the baroque St Andrew's Church, while the street itself is lined with souvenir sellers, restaurants and galleries. There are a couple of museums here too including one for internationally acclaimed  author, Mikhail Bulgakov (it was closed for renovations at the time of my visit).

one of the churches at the
Upper Lavra

Kiev Pechersk Lavra (Cave Monastery--Печерська лавра): This is the most popular tourist site in the city and arguably the spiritual heart of the country. The site is divided into two sections: the Upper Lavra (museums and churches for which there's an entrance fee), and the Lower Lavra (where the cave is located) which is free. The cave houses the mummified remains of monks. You'll need to purchase a candle to light your way down there. It's a pretty short walk, and in that time you'll see pilgrims kneeling and praying at the coffins. There's also an underground church but it's accessible only to believers (don't bother trying to sneak in). Do note that it gets pretty crowded on weekends so it'd be best to visit the cave during the week, especially if you're claustrophobic. Oh, and please dress conservatively.

Further down from the Lavra are the Motherland Statue and War memorials. The Museum to the Great Patriotic War is a must if events related to the Second World War are your thing. Right above museum stands the 62-metre tall Rodina Mat or Defence of the Motherland Monument (right), which is visible even as you enter the city from across the Dnipro River.

Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Майдан Незалежності) or Independence Square (left), located on Khreshchatyk Street. The area is now famous as the place where supporters of the Orange Revolution gathered and camped in October 2004. It is a central meeting place and all around are cafes, souvenir stalls and the post office. Get off at either the Maidan Nezalezhnosti or Kreshchatyk metro stations.

Open-Air Museum of Folk Architecture and Rural Life (Музей народної архітектури та побуту - Muzey narodnoyi arkhitektury ta pobutu): Find out how rural Ukrainians in different parts of the country used to live in the 18th and 19th centuries in this sprawling complex. You'll find restored villages, mills (as shown on the left) and churches , as well as thousands of household and traditional artefacts. To get here, take the metro to Vystavkovy Tsentr station and hop onto bus number 172 at the bus station right above the station. You might have to ask around for the line for the bus because there's no indication as such where the pickup point is. It would be best to have the bus number and your destination penned down for someone to direct you to the pickup point.

Other museums that may be of interest

National Art Museum of Ukraine - dedicated to Ukrainian art ranging from medieval icons to portraits
Mikhail Bulgakov Museum - located at No. 13 Andriyivsky Descent, this museum is a collection of things belonging to the writer
The National Museum of Taras Shevchenko - dedicated to Ukraine's best known poet/writer, this one has 24 halls containing original artworks by Shevchenko, documents about his life and work and rare photographs.

Recommended duration of stay

4 days

Getting In

Flights: Several major airlines fly into Kyiv, including Turkish Airlines, Lufthansa and KLM. There's also AeroSvit, a national carrier, and LOT Polish Airlines.
Trains: There are good international connections from Central Europe and Russia.

Things to take note of

Money: You can exchange some grivna (гривня) at the airport for the bus/taxi into the city, and the rest once you're in the city centre. Money changers are available in many places such as supermarkets. Do have your passport on hand though because some places require identification.

Language: Don't worry too much about the Cyrillic alphabet. There are English signs on the streets, metro stations and most major establishments. Staff at cafes generally speak/understand English as well. But having said that, it won't do you harm to familiarise yourself with some Cyrillic and Ukrainian, both spoken and written. It might seem like hard work but at least you'll know what you're looking for. Plus, it would amuse the locals.

Racism: Much has been said about racism in Ukraine against people of colour. One guidebook I referred to even mentioned how an African guy was stabbed several times at a metro station. But rest assured that Kyiv is as safe or as dangerous as the next European city. In fact, most Ukrainians I encountered were more curious about why I'd chosen to visit their country than to cause any form of harm. As in any other city you visit, exercise common sense and you'll be fine (e.g. stay away from dark alleys, etc).

Pop Patriotism

This article was first written on the 28th of October 2008


The car ride to the Wagah border was symptomatic of several South Asian, and in fact most developing, countries. We were on a narrow two lane road where might is right. Our driver, however, was on a mission to prove that he had what it takes to show the huge TATA lorries who’s boss.

In the backseat, Sanyam’s mother was not too amused. ‘Bhaiyya, we’re not in that much of a hurry,’ she said as she leaned forward. He did not care to respond although I noticed an imperceptible acknowledgement on his part. I turned back to give her an assuring smile: I, the visitor to this chaotic country, the one more accustomed to orderly driving. My eyes were largely unperturbed by the horns whistling past us and the risk of smashing into oncoming traffic. My gaze was fixed on the fields on both sides of the road. On the left, the sun was suspended well above the trees and fields of sugarcane and the like. I was a tad nervous, but overwhelmingly excited: this was the closest I was going to get to Pakistan. 

 I got out of the car and looked around. There were fields stretching beyond the limits of my sight. In the direction of the setting sun, I saw fences and barbed wires separated by a few metres of earth – no man’s land. We walked away from the parking area on to the main road. Most of it was occupied by colourful goods trucks waiting to cross the border. I was told dried fruits and other eatables change hands in these parts. Not too far away from the parking lot was an area that served as a dhaba, a roadside eatery. There were also stalls selling items with the Indian flag emblazoned on them – pins, caps, etc. Others were crowded with candy floss, drinks, and samosas. At some point a group of men in saffron robes starting singing to the beat of a dhol as they walked towards the border. They were joined by a small group who sang and danced along. The guide books were not exaggerating when they said there’s a carnival atmosphere here. But this was only scratching the surface.

About a hundred metres ahead we reached the beginnings of the road into Pakistan. On the left were the stands where spectators could sit and watch the border closing ceremony every evening. We found a spot about six rows from the front. Not too bad, I thought to myself. I could see, fairly well, the soldiers standing at attention in front of me, and beyond them the gates that separated the two countries. On this side was a festival in full swing. People were waving flags and clapping and singing along to patriotic songs being blasted from loudspeakers all around us. As if on cue, some of the girls in the first row climbed over to the side of the road and began dancing. The crowd went wild, as did flashing cameras.

‘You don’t seem impressed,’ I said to Sanyam who was hiding behind his shades.

‘It’s pop patriotism. It’ll die out once the evening is over.’
‘You really think so?’
‘Listen to the song selection. Where does Dil Chahta Hai’s Koi Kahe fit into nationalism? It’s only about sounding better and louder than them.’
He had a point. Every now and then afterwards, a voice would boom over the loudspeaker with pro-India chants: Hindustan, Zindabad! Vande Mataram! The crowd naturally responded with gusto.

On the Pakistani side, things were more subdued. I could faintly hear a song being played, but the spectators seemed more solemn. Perhaps one flag was flying over the crowd’s head. They look just like us on this side, I thought to myself.

The speakers on this side blared a song from the 1955 film, Naya Daur. It was about the land of Punjab: it was romanticism of the kind that Yash Chopra later sought to repeat in his films, most recently with the 2004 Veer-Zaara, about a love that transcends the difficult border. It was his attempt at healing wounds that have divided the subcontinent. 

My thoughts drifted to my grandma. She was born in a Punjab that breathed under an undivided India. The country was born again in 1947, but that independence indirectly forced her out of the country. I don’t remember when my throat began feeling lumpy. As the crowd rose to its feet in patriotic fervour, their fists punching the sky, I quickly wiped away the tears that had slid past almost undetected.