It's been quite a while since I visited New Delhi. While India appears a little changed, different every time one goes back home, never has the capital appeared so amazingly transformed.
I can’t make up my mind what really is different but the city, one of the largest and oldest in the world, has certainly undergone a change for the better. Somehow it looks more pleasant, ordered, greener and at peace with itself.
Even with temperatures soaring thanks to a weak monsoon, my friend and I just couldn’t just stop walking up and down Janpath — popular with the Western tourists for its quaint, little shops and Rajpath where India displays its military might on the Republic Day.
From my 11th floor hotel room in central Delhi, I can look at the Parliament, the Rashtrapati Bhavan and South Block, the Prime Minister’s Secretariat.
Edwin Lutyens, the celebrated British architect largely responsible for the architectural marvels of the new city, couldn’t have come up with a grander tribute to the Raj.
It’s an irony of history though that what was meant to be the high abode of the imperial British viceroy has ended up as the residence of the leader of the world’s largest democracy.
Whatever Lutyens’ original designs, it’s not possible to pass by any of his creations today without staring at them in awe and wonder.
Delhi is not just a capital. It has been a watchtower at the crossroads of history and geography, witnessing an endless parade of imperial adventurers, political fortune seekers and genuine lovers of India. And they have all left their mark all over Delhi and beyond.
If Lutyens’ Delhi is a monument to the empire on which the sun never set, the old, walled city that is home to such architectural marvels as the Red Fort and Jama Masjid is a celebration of the Mogul or Muslim love affair with India.
Jama Masjid, one of the biggest mosques in South Asia and one of the grandest in the world, and the Red Fort or Lal Qila, from where prime minister addresses the nation on India’s independence day, were both built by Emperor Shah Jahan, the same love-sick Mogul monarch who built the immortal Taj Mahal.
I have always been partial to Delhi. The city never ceases to fascinate, intrigue and awe me. The ever-inquisitive student of history in me just cannot have enough of the city.
It’s steeped in the past and lives and breathes history. This is all the more true of Old Delhi, the walled city from where the Moguls, and before them countless others, ruled this mammoth, melting pot of a country.
Old Delhi has been slowly melting and crumbling away since the British dethroned the Mogul dynasty, banishing its last poet Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar to die a tortuous death in the remote Rangoon in Burma or Myanmar.
But this slow death of old and squalid Delhi appears to have gathered pace lately, pitting it in a tragic contrast to the rich, lively and fast-progressing New Delhi.
Offering Friday prayers at the Jama Masjid and dining at the legendary Karim’s, still tucked away in the ancient maze of narrow roads and old alleyways, takes you at least five centuries back in time. Time has stood still here. And Old Delhi and its people have stood there too, handcuffed to history and living in the past.
In total contrast, a confident and proud New Delhi appears to be marching with the rest of India to the beats of progress, globalization and new riches that have flooded the rising, giant of a country.
New money is everywhere. Inflation is sky high so much so I miss good ol’ Dubai. But no one seems to be losing sleep over the rising cost of living.
Go to a decent restaurant or diner-like Swagath in Defense Colony where my friend took me for its much-feted butter chicken and seafood — and you’ll be amazed at its prices.
Most dishes are in the range of 500 rupees, and above, which was considered a big bill when one left India’s shores seven summers ago.
India is indeed shining, folks. At least, in parts. Shuttling in and out of major cities in the north and south and traveling inside interior India over the past few weeks, I can’t help marveling at the pace at which this country of a billion people has been growing. It hums endlessly like a gargantuan machine. Global consumer brands, foreign cars and world-class services are everywhere. Everyone appears to be juggling with hottest gadgets and mobile phones.
Both iPhone and BlackBerry appear to be hot favorites for now. What global economic crisis? What meltdown? India remains unruffled.
Even air travel has gone world-class, taking a huge leap forward. Flying with Kingfisher airline from Delhi to Hyderabad was an absolute delight. With gourmet cuisine to in-flight entertainment, Vijay Mallya’s young airline offers a really refreshing change from the dull drudgery of Indian Airlines and Air India.
Landing at Hyderabad’s new Rajiv Gandhi International Airport completed this amazing experience. One had heard a great deal about the new airport and its world-class services. Yet nothing could have prepared me for this absolutely stunning and phenomenon of an airport.
From its cavernous, glass-and-steel domestic and international terminals to the miles and miles of greenery around the airport, it doesn’t look like an Indian or Asian airport from any angle. I had to remind myself again and again that I am not at Dubai international airport.
The only things missing at the airport were the signs and directions in Urdu. Not a small change for a city that still remains the last bastion of the Urdu language, literature and culture. But perhaps nothing remains the same forever, does it?
— Aijaz Zaka Syed is a Dubai-based commentator and can be reached at [email protected]
