Delhi
We woke to our first real depiction of the Indian capital through predictably hazy skies and after a very light breakfast, in an unbelievably packed hotel restaurant, were collected by another guide and the enigmatic Ganache and whisked off through the frightful Delhi traffic to The Red Fort.
The Red Fort or Lal Qila is a historic fort in the Old Delhi neighbourhood that originally served as the main residence of the Mughal emperors. It was commissioned in 1638 when the capital was shifted from Agrato to Delhi and took 10 years to complete. Originally red and white, its design is credited to architect Ustad Ahmad Lahori who also constructed the Taj Mahal. The fort represents the peak in Mughal architecture under Emperor Shah Jahan who conceived the building and combines Persianate palace architecture with Indian traditions.
Plundered of its artwork and jewels during Nader Shah's invasion of the Mughal Empire in 1739, most of the fort's marble structures were subsequently demolished by the British following the Indian Rebellion of 1857. The fort's defensive walls were largely undamaged and the fortress was subsequently used as a garrison. Today it is one of India’s major tourist attractions and stands as a monument of national significance; every year on India's Independence Day the prime minister hoists the country's tricolour flag and delivers a nationally broadcast speech from its ramparts. The Red Fort complex was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2007.
Entering through the Lahori gate, we immediately passed through Chhatta Chowk, a barrel vaulted structure remaining as a market built to satisfy the needs of higher ranked Mughal women who resided in the fort. The long tunnel was filled with pigeons and Indians alike and ran through to the Naubat Khana, or Waiting Hall, where music once played daily at scheduled times and everyone, except royalty, was required to dismount. On the other side of a wide open courtyard stood the Diwan-i-Aam, the public audience hall. This was a place for the official affairs of commoners who sought resolve over legal matters such as tax issues and hereditary complications.
The hall's columns and engrailed arches are amazingly detailed and stand as a testament to the craftsmanship of the time, and the over 1.5 million slave workers available.
The Red Fort, Delhi
To the north of this vast pavilion began a complex of contrasting private pavilions glistening in white marble intricately detailed with inlays of precious stones and gems.
The Rang Mahal housed the emperor's wives and mistresses, its name meaning Palace of Colours since it was brightly painted and decorated with a mosaic of mirrors.
The Khas Mahal was the emperor's apartment connected to an octagonal tower where he appeared before the people waiting on the riverbank. The Diwan-i-Khas was a building used for official affairs and directly connected via a private gate to the innermost court of the palace. The Hammam were the imperial baths illuminated by coloured glass skylights with perfumed rose-water once running from the taps. Lastly stood the Moti Masjid, or Pearl Mosque, built in 1659 as a private mosque for Emperor Aurangzeb.
The whole complex was a show of opulence and decadence and even in its plundered, deteriorating state is a work of genius and beauty. The grounds of course were immaculately maintained with hundreds of tiny squirrels running through the underbrush and up and down the many tree limbs.
Private Pavilions
But we were on tour of course and had many things to see, so after “a thousand apologies” from our guide, we were literally scurried across the road for our next cultural enlightenment.
As if by magic we immediately stepped into a pedal powered Tuc-Tuc for a trundle down the famous Chandni Chowk. One of the oldest and busiest markets in Delhi, it was built in the 17th century by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and was once divided by canals to reflect the moonlight. With markets full of spices, dried fruit, silver jewellery and vivid saris, the narrow side streets are further crowded with tiny shops selling essential oils, stationery and traditional Indian sweets.
Chandni Chowk is funky. It’s crazy, bustling, ear piercingly loud and an olfactory awakening. The smell of spices were simply out of this world. The main thoroughfare is currently under redevelopment as part of a government initiative, but as with all things Indian it was still chaotic and a sensory overload. The side and back streets though were even more bizarre. Between shop fronts, gaps no wider than two humans are hidden between displayed goods. We didn't even notice them until our rider veered sharply to the right and threaded the tri wheeled contraption perfectly through to unveil narrow alleyways brimming with even more goods for sale, and remarkably, even more people. How it all worked so harmoniously we will never know, but it did and we loved it.
We got out at times to sample the spices and purchase a few for home, while Lyndall of course added to her jewellery collection with some special Indian editions. There was action everywhere and characters galore with Fatpap getting lost numerous times chasing an image or something out of the corner of his eye. In the end we completed our lap and sadly ushered back to the regularly scheduled tour program. By now we had sensed some ire from our guides as we always lingered longer at places waiting for the perfect capture. They were OK, as were we, after all, it was our holiday and explained we were happy to drop certain points of interest where necessary. That seemed to appease Kali, the Indian god of anger.
Our Tuc Tuc driver to his credit maintained his pace hauling us and rewarded accordingly with a few shiny pennies for his effort. No we are kidding. One good thing about being on tour is that the guides always let you know the appropriate tip to offer. What they don’t disclose is that it’s usually double and they of course get the back hand of that when we happily move on. No, we are kidding. But a few shiny pennies do go a long way.
We finished on Chawari Bazar Road literally at the bottom step of our next destination. It was only here did we encounter our first experience of the expected begging children. They of course know all the lines, know what faces to pull - they’ve seen Slumdog Millionaire - and whilst it is hard, you just need to ignore them and walk away before they do. However, we headed up the ancient stairs to Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India.
Built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan in 1656, it served as the imperial mosque until the demise of the empire in 1857. The Jama Masjid was regarded as a symbolic gesture of Islamic power across India well into the colonial era and today serves as Delhi's primary mosque and has a largely congregational function.
At the point of entry we were required to remove our shoes, and for Fatpap wearing shorts, to don a sarong type garment around his waist. Walking barefoot across a courtyard big enough to accommodate 25,000 worshippers was unique, but not as the numerous young Indian men wishing to update their Instagram grid with selfies of us both. Lyndall because of her blonde hair, Fatpap because of his infamy.
The 60 metre prayer hall is open on all sides save the east with 3 domes rising from the roof and the floor decorated with white and black ornamented marble resembling a Muslim prayer mat. Walking respectfully through the area while congregants prayed was a special experience and one we have not encountered before. The standout features of this building though are the 40 metre high sandstone minarets rising from the northwest and southwest corners of the hall. Longitudinally striped with white marble, they are architecturally and aesthetically mesmerising.
It had been a busy day thus far, and at this point couldn’t blame the traffic for everything, but we had lots more to see but not yet eaten. On request Ganache appeared from nowhere and our guide took us to Lazeez Affaire in Malcha Marg for our official first meal on tour. The restaurant we are sure is a tour guide favourite, but the minute we slid onto the floor based cushions and the waiter asked if our gins should be “doubles”, we knew this would be perfect. And it was. The best Indian meal we’ve ever had, and naturally fully expected. We managed a little over an hour there and on leaving had difficulty hauling our frames off the floor and from under the tightly accessed table. But we did and were soon back on the road.
Our next stop was Raj Ghat, a memorial dedicated to Mahatma Gandhi. Within the vast, and expertly manicured gardens lies a black marble platform marking the spot of Mahatma Gandhi's cremation in January 1948, a day after his assassination. It is left open to the sky while an eternal flame burns at one end. A stone footpath flanked by sweeping lawns and ornate garden beds lead to the walled enclosure housing the memorial. The whole area is naturally very peaceful, calming and surprisingly inspiring.
Gandhi was an Indian lawyer, anti-colonial nationalist and political ethicist who employed nonviolent resistance to lead the successful campaign for India's independence from British rule and inspired movements for civil rights and freedom across the world. The Indians regard him as the greatest figure of modern times and the greatest Indian since the Buddha. Bit weird he only got a black box?
Next we headed to the Lotus Temple, a relative newcomer to the Delhi tourist trail. As a Baháʼí house of worship the Lotus Temple is open to all regardless of religion or any other qualification and was dedicated in December 1986. Notable for its lotus-like shape, the building is composed of 27 free-standing marble-clad "petals" arranged in clusters of three to form nine sides. With nine doors opening onto a central hall with a height of 34 meters it has a capacity of 1,300 people. And there was more than that the day we visited. The place was absolutely packed requiring a small wait time before entering, not including the long queues snaking their way through the entrance grounds. Shoe removal was again a must but well worth the surreal sanctuary the entire building invoked. The Temple has won numerous architectural awards and many say influenced by our own Opera House in Sydney.
It was a very tranquil place to experience the setting sun on our first day in India but we had no time to tarry. It was getting late, Delhi traffic was getting worse - if it could - and time to head back to the hotel and have some dinner … or so we thought. Given our aforementioned photographic delays we graciously forwent visits to The Presidential Palace, Laxminarayan Temple and the India Gate. The first two held little interest after such an eventful day, however with another one in Delhi scheduled on the back end of our journey, you will hear more about the gate in that section of our blog.
Ganache did his best returning us to the hotel in one piece, exhibiting first hand how Delhi’s famous traffic has a peak hour lasting 25 hrs a day, and needless to say we were more than thankful to alight his chariot and bid him good evening. We of course had dinners included with our premium package and with no functioning bar or outdoor sitting area, navigated the construction site in view of an early-ish dinner. It was only here we learnt that our allotted “sitting time” was much later than our arrival so we adjourned to our room to edit photos and watch the porters wear tracks in the hallway carpet through their many journeys delivering gin and tonics to our room.
We never had dinner, but a truly fantastic, if not very confronting first day on Indian soil.
Watchful Crow, Red Fort, Delhi, India