India Unwrapped

February - March 2020
Join me on a floral and cultural journey through Northern India, with its plethora of sights, sounds and sensory overload. The World Flower Show is to be held in Jaipur, so there we will begin............ Read more
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  • 1countries
  • 18days
  • 136photos
  • 2videos
  • 647miles
  • Day 15

    The Toy Train

    March 8, 2020 in India ⋅ ☀️ 7 °C

    Our prayers have been answered! The day dawned bright and clear, with scarcely a cloud in sight.
    Once luggage and breakfast had been dealt with, everyone rushed outside with their cameras to capture the views that had proved so elusive yesterday. Here at last were the snow covered peaks of the Lower Himalaya that we had come to see. The views were indeed worth the journey required to get here. We departed Shimla in style from the World Heritage Shimla Station, on the world famous Toy Train. This was the brain child of the then Viceroy, Lord Curzon who felt it would be an immense logistical bonus to link his Summer Capital with the plains of Delhi and so the construction of the narrow gauge Khalkha-Shimla Railway began in January 1891. The plans had been laid as far back as 1847, but had stalled until Lord Curzon’s intervention. As you can imagine this was a hugely difficult line to build, due to its length (95.5 kms) altitude and terrain. The climate of course did not help. The line passes through 102 tunnels, 988 bridges,, including a spectacular gallery bridge No 541 near Kanoh and 917 curves, some as steep as 48 degrees. This is a masterpiece of Victorian engineering - yet another! They did, of course, have plentiful labour available, but also the vision and drive to complete the task. It was opened for passengers on November 9th 1903 by Lord Curzon himself.
    Shimla Station sits at 6811 ft above sea level and is a beautiful, small, still largely Victorian building. The Indian Railway is as far as I can see a well run, staffed and efficient organisation, much as our own railway would have been originally. Generations of families still continue to work for Indian Railways and their dedication makes the difference. The Diesel engine and the couplings were being carefully checked over as we arrived on the platform to board. Originally, the train would have been pulled by a steam locomotive and occasionally still is, but only for more important types than us (Michael Portillo and his film crew for example!). However, we pulled out of the station on time, watched by the monkeys sitting on the iron railings. They had been very entertaining.
    So began what has to be the most stunning rail journey of my life. The scenery has to be seen to be believed, with towering mountains, deep valleys, and verdant forests of pine and rhododendron, just coming into bloom. We were plunged into tunnels and emerged into bright sunlight and the ever spectacular landscape all around us. The train stops at little stations with intriguing names such as Summerhill and TaraDevi. Along the platform comes the ‘tea boy’ with paper cups tucked in his top pocket and his pre made large kettle of tea. You can buy a cup through the window for 10 rupees (about 8p). As you descend to the plains the countryside becomes noticeably drier, the pines and rhododendrons disappear to be replaced by warmer climate loving varieties and the odd cactus. What was a surprise was the constant high level of population in a landscape I would have expected to be largely devoid of people. Farming is the main occupation and here it is hay making time. I could see farmers high on the steepest of slopes wielding a scythe. The mountainsides looked almost patchwork in effect as they were clearly cut one way and then another according to the terrain. As we neared Kandaghat our destination, we passed over the Kanoh bridge and then the train curves away to the left enabling you to crane your neck out of a window and see the incredible viaduct you have just passed over. It is almost Roman in its construction and elegance, being constructed entirely in stone.
    Finally, we reluctantly disembarked at Kandaghat to meet up with our drivers once more. We walked down a long ramp to the road below to await the convoy of 10 white Toyotas, who had made the journey from Shimla by road as we were on the train. They appeared round the bend, only to be stopped in their tracks by a large cow, who settled in the middle of the road and until she decided to move nothing could be done. According to Hari, if you are unfortunate enough to hit one, it is an instant jail sentence. To quote him “ This is India and everything is possible!”.
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  • Day 15

    The Milton Keynes of India!

    March 8, 2020 in India ⋅ ☀️ 13 °C

    Hari drove us back down to Chandigarh with his usual panache. We were now able to see the road and the surrounding countryside, which time and weather had denied us on our way up to Shimla. There are large sections of road undergoing reconstruction as I explained before. It was a real pickle, in part no road to speak of at all, traffic everywhere, dogs, pigs, cows and people and a policemen with a whistle attempting to direct operations! At one point, to our horror, a car came hurtling towards us going the the wrong way down the supposed road. Our driver deftly avoided the problem with an explosive ‘idiot’, but to be fair it isn’t the only time such a occurrence has happened! Only in India- this is not the place for a fly drive, unless one has cast iron nerves and lightning reflexes. Even on arriving In Chandigarh, where the roads are wide, tree lined avenues, the chaos remained. I would say the main roads were probably at least three lanes, but nothing is marked and the traffic is just a free for all. I found ‘eyes wide shut’ to be a useful aid!
    Chandigarh is a new city, built as the capital of the Punjab, when the existing capital Lahore was annexed to Pakistan. Pandit Nehru, India’s first Prime Minister after independence, commissioned the city to be purpose built along modern lines. After a couple of false starts the Swiss/French architect Le Corbusier was appointed. He was famous during the post war period as part of the ‘brutalist’ group of architects responsible for the clean, modern, concrete lines of the 50s & 60s. Hence our guide’s likening Chandigarh to an Indian Milton Keynes. There are roundabouts galore and the city is built along a grid system and divided into sectors. No building is more than three storeys high and there is lots of green space, with walks, outdoor gyms etc and each sector has its own market. It was a new way of looking at communal living and certainly it would seem to have been a great success and adapted to the Indian way of life.
    Our first port of call was The Chandigarh Rose Garden. It covers some 40 acres, has 32,000 plants and 825 species of rose. It was busy with people out enjoying the green space and roses, which were just coming into bloom. It was good to wander having been in a car for the last three hours or so.
    Our final stop of the day was exceptional. You may remember Monty Don stopping here on his ‘80 Gardens around the World’ whistle stop tour. It is a Rock Garden created by Nek Chand, which he calls a Fantasy and I wouldn’t disagree. In the early 1950s he was seconded to Chandigarh to work on the city project. A huge dump site of discarded materials existed where the garden now stands. From 1957 to 1975 Nek would secretly spend his spare time in the evenings and nights creating sculptures from the leftovers and hiding them amongst the foliage. He created over 2000! They are now displayed to tremendous effect in the garden. In 1975 his secret life was discovered and the powers that be were initially not pleased and Nek was banned from the site. It was only later that the authorities realised what they had in the man and his creations and asked him to build a garden here.
    Nek created a ‘rock’ garden for Chandigarh, the like of which you will have never seen in your life.
    We had a first class young guide to show us around and explain the thoughts behind what we were seeing. The garden is created entirely out of recycled building materials, from concrete to coloured wires to plug sockets. A narrow path for the visitor to follow, weaves in and out of incredible features. Jaws dropped, I can assure you. The planting is almost entirely natural and minimal and redefines what a garden can be and my photos will give you a taste of what I mean. All I can say is we were totally bowled over and I declare Nek Chand to be a genius!
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  • Day 16

    Amritsar and the Golden Temple

    March 9, 2020 in India ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    Here we are after two and half glorious weeks in India at our final port of call, Amritsar. Our day started early, yet again, and we caught the 5.30 am train from Chandigarh to Amritsar, which is a 4 hr journey. Drinks and snacks are constantly offered, from tea and coffee, cold omelettes, vegetable patties, biscuits and crisps. Note that British Rail cannot manage a drinks trolly! I have to say I avoided everything bar the crisps, as they were outside my ‘safe’ category, but they were available. We alighted on to a heaving platform at Amritsar and slowly made our way out of the station accompanied by a couple of cows strolling along amidst the crowd. No one took a blind bit of notice, even when one of them anointed the platform in their honour!
    The evening saw us depart for the evening ceremony at the Golden Temple. Amritsar is the centre of The Sikh religion which is approximately 500 years old and believes in equality between genders, kindness and charity to all and welcomes everyone, regardless of religion, to their holy temple. We travelled as far as possible by coach and then by mad rickshaw, to within walking distance. The streets are dark and thronged with people, particularly bearing in mind it is the Holi Festival tomorrow, so all Sikhs that can, wish to worship at the temple. It is unsurprisingly an enormous complex and you enter the inner sanctum through a arched gateway, barefoot and modestly covered, including the head for both men and women, via a shallow foot bath.The archway is deep and stepped and when you arrive at the top of the steps there before you glitters the 24 carat golden temple in its sacred pool. It is a quite unbelievable sight, especially lit up at night. ‘Jessie’ our guide (name too long and complicated to pronounce!) explained all that was going to happen and some of us stood in the holy water, whilst taking in the sight of the faithful at worship, some prostrate, others immersing themselves in the pool. There were beautifully decorated prayer rooms all around the waters edge, where elders were reading aloud from the holy scripture and the white marble that is everywhere underfoot is cool to the feet. On Jessies’s instruction we headed to the temple itself, to witness the parade of the original holy scripture (Sri-Gur Granth Sahib) to its place of rest for the night, (it is a four poster bed!) amidst much chanting and veneration. The temple itself is even more beautiful in reality than from photographs, the interior heavily decorated with gold and painted surfaces, golden doors, jewel coloured carpets and stunning chandeliers, over two floors. Again, to our surprise, we were allowed full access. The Sikh religion is certainly inclusive. To our amazement, once the Holy Book was put to bed for the night, out came the Brasso! I should explain that there are brass vessels, railings and handrails everywhere and volunteers set to with a will to clean any brass in sight. This is apparently a nightly task, as is the brushing and beating of the carpets. By the time we came to exit the temple complex and reclaim our shoes, pilgrims were bedding down for the night, in alcoves and anywhere they could find, directly on to the marble floor with a thin blanket covering. This is perfectly acceptable and they must be a hardy breed, as it cannot be comfortable. We returned to our hotel elated at having witnessed such a ceremony and with the prospect of more to come tomorrow.
    Today was Lesley’s birthday and it was certainly a day with a difference. We had a glass of something sparkling ( not the best in truth) and had our photograph taken to mark the occasion
    (again not the best, but at our age when is it !?).
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  • Day 17

    The Golden Finale

    March 10, 2020 in India ⋅ 🌙 7 °C

    We began our final day with a demonstration. No, not of the floral variety, but a ‘how to tie a turban’ dem from Jessie. Tony was volunteered and ended up with a very chic scarlet turban for our daytime temple visit. Between 5 and 7 metres of cotton fabric are used in every turban and to tie one is something of an art form. I had no idea there were so many versions, but I now know how individual a turban can be and some aficionados use considerably more fabric. It is mainly a male head dress, but some women also choose to wear it. Jessie was sporting a natty orange version today, as this is a celebratory colour for Sikhs and today is the Indian ‘Holi’ Colour Festival. As you may have noticed from last nights photographs of the little boys, it is customary to throw powdered paint at people in celebration. I had been warned to take something ‘disposable’ to wear in case of disaster! As a result this morning’s visit to the Golden Temple was particularly special and ultra busy. Everyone was out in their best clothes and there were some fabulous outfits on show. Indians are not frightened of colour and wear it with aplomb. We followed our route of last night and by day the contrast between the surrounding streets and the immediate Temple vicinity was even more marked. At least the rats had gone to bed! It seems incredible that the Temple is kept in such an immaculate state and yet all around people live in filth, throw rubbish everywhere and seem oblivious to the fact that they are existing in a health and hygiene nightmare. There seems to be little desire to clean anything up and it wouldn’t take much. They must have a very strong immune system. If you ask anyone about it the response is always ‘This is India’ with a shrug of the shoulders. The words convenient excuse come to mind? Sudhir, our guide feels that education is the key and it will gradually improve, but it could be generations.
    By daylight the Golden Temple sparkled in the sun and there were people massed everywhere. The scene was a glorious riot of colour. Jessie took us on a tour of the kitchen, where up to
    100,000 meals were to be served today, all prepared and served by volunteers. This is double the normal because of the Holi Festival. It is a very slick and organised system and no one is refused sustenance. There are four enormous halls where the people sit in rows on the floor and are served rice, chapati, dhal, a vegetable dish and water. A small amount only on a stainless steel divided platter. It dawned on me that this is less of a meal and more of a communion, which Jessie confirmed. We moved on to the kitchens, where the making of chapatis was in full swing. The dough is produced by a massive machine and volunteers shape and roll them out. This was our chance to get involved and so we did! I sat with one of my group on my right and two Indian ladies to my left. We all knew how to handle a rolling pin regardless of creed or nationality and I was pleased to have made a contribution. The chapatis were cooked over a huge griddle before heading out to feed the ‘five thousand’. Then there was the washing up! Oh my God, the racket, as the platters crashed against one another in the two 200ft long water troughs and thence into racks. Men washed up in one trough and women in the other. I was slightly concerned at how often the water was changed, but as we were not eating, let it pass!
    We slowly made our way out of the kitchens, past people industriously chopping garlic, onions and multiple vegetables, into the sunlight to walk around the sacred pool one last time. To our amazement all age groups wanted to have their photographs taken with us and it was a slow but friendly path to the exit gate. On our way back to collect our shoes we came across three young guys covered head to toe in Holi powder paint. We laughed with them and took a photo, at which point Lesley and I were ‘attacked’; Lesley coming off a little worse than me, but it wasn’t disastrous, just fun. It has been a real honour to have visited the Golden Temple another of India’s world class monuments and a fitting finale.
    Our day concluded with a visit to the Summer Palace of the last Maharajah of the Punjab, Ranjit Singh (all Sikhs have Singh in their surname). This is the man who paid for the 24 carat gold coating of the Golden Temple and the original owner of the Koihnoor diamond. The enormous diamond was originally set in the bejewelled Peacock Throne made for Shah Jahan in 1628, before being pillaged to Persia and passing through countless hands before being secured by the Maharajah as a spoil of war. There is some controversy here as to how it then came into the hands of Queen Victoria, but it is at least displayed for all to see in the Imperial Crown. . The summer palace and garden need a considerable amount of restoration, which is now being undertaken. Local lads were playing cricket on a dirt pitch - no wonder they can handle spin. You will see this everywhere and cricket is undoubtedly the national game. On our way back to the coach we came across an Indian version of a pop up lolly shop, if you can call it that and stopped to watch. A large block of ice is shaved on very sharp embedded blade, moulded into the lolly shape and then natural flavourings of lime, lemon and orange poured over it in syrup form. Ingenious and the equivalent of 20pence.

    And so, inevitably we headed back to the hotel to commence the big pack up for the long journey home. It is hard to sum up the last two and a half weeks in mere words. Our group have been friendly and great fun and we have enjoyed sharing this experience together. The organisation has been faultless. India is a culture shock to the westerner and you need to observe, accept and not judge its centuries old traditions. It is a land of immense contrasts in every respect, with an ethos all of its own. Ninety five percent of marriages are still arranged, the caste system is still all encompassing and as a western woman it is hard to handle the inequality between the sexes. A woman still cannot attend her husband’s funeral. The senses are assaulted on every level. It is colourful, challenging, full of beauty, artistry, squalor and at times overwhelming. I can honestly say, this trip has been a risk worth taking: we have stayed well and loved every minute of it. I am so grateful to have had the chance to have just touched the surface of this fascinating country. There is seriously nowhere like India! Thank you Lesley for coming with me. Something so beautiful is always better shared.
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