Asia Travel - Part 19

China: The Alleys of Old Beijing

by Leslie Hebert

The young rickshaw driver in the bright blue jacket bore down on the pedals of his bike to get us moving. My husband and I, definitely not small people, were squeezed tightly into the seat of a small carriage behind the bike. Bundled in a threadbare black and red plaid blanket, we squirmed uncomfortably in our narrow conveyance. I calculated the burden of our combined weight, thinking that perhaps our driver was not going to be strong enough to move us, but he made one final push and we began to roll forward.

Push, groan, squeak.

The ancient bike creaked and moaned as its driver huffed and puffed, his breath making dragon-like clouds of steam in the cold November air. The icy wind whistled down the narrow street, I buried my hands in the blanket for warmth, and we followed a long line of red-canopied rickshaws through the narrow alleys of the Hutong District in old Beijing.

Local residents smiled in amusement and waved at the parade of foreigners passing by as the rickshaw convoy picked up a surprising amount of speed. We sped through the alleys, narrowly missing scooters and taxis coming from the opposite direction. Above my head, completely out of context, I was astonished to see a shipping container hanging in the air. Being from the port city of Vancouver, I am used to seeing containers sitting on barges, at the dockside, or behind trucks on the highway, but I had never seen one on top of a residential building. Yet here, in this overcrowded district of one of the world’s largest, most populous cities, one had been creatively converted into a second floor apartment.

The rickshaws brought us to our lunch destination, a noodle house in the home of a local resident. The tour group, all 30 of us, filed through a tiny kitchen, where freshly cut vegetables lay ready for stir frying, and crowded into a small living room to squat on low stools, elbow to elbow, ten to a table. There was little warmth in the house, but the combined heat of thirty crammed bodies and the heat of the green tea our hostess served were a comforting relief from the cold outside.

Plates of food arrived and we happily shared noodles, bean sprouts, summer squash, chicken legs and delicious fried peanuts. I relaxed. Warmth flowed through my body and down into my fingers, and I leaned comfortably back against the flaking, whitewashed wall behind me to savour more hot tea. Then just as I got comfortably warm the guide abruptly announced it was time to go, and I was reminded that we were on a tight tour schedule

As I headed back out into the chill November air the hostess and cook, who were standing in the kitchen to see us off, grabbed me and started laughingly swatting whitewash from the back of my black coat. Smiling and nodding, I extricated myself as politely as possible and caught up with the group making its way back to the rickshaws.

Our next stop was a traditional courtyard house, built to accommodate the many members of a traditional extended family. This was a large sprawling house, a maze which seemed to contain at least three courtyards each surrounded by long, low buildings containing various storage, sleeping and common rooms.

The owner of the house was a piece of living history, a genial, round-faced 99 year-old who stood in the open doorway of one of the rooms waving us in. I smiled and greeted him with a polite “ni hao” but, being completely deaf, he smiled and nodded vacantly and beckoned to the next person. I walked out across the chill of the courtyard and escaped from the freezing wind once more by squishing into the main living room with the rest of the group. I sank down into the warm embrace of a low, soft couch placed against the wall. Someone perched on the arm of the couch, people sat on rows of rickety folding chairs lined up in front of the couch, and others crowded into the doorway.

Against a red wooden fretwork on the far wall hung a giant fan. To my left was a floor to ceiling bookcase stuffed with musty old books, and in the centre of the room stood a dark wooden coffee table covered with piles of photo albums and a miscellany of old black and white photographs.

The guide passed some of the photos around and told us that the old man who now lived in the house with his son and grandson had made his fortune in the 1930s, midway between the fall of the Ching dynasty and the rise of Chairman Mao. With his new-found wealth he had bought the house we were sitting in for three one-kilogram bricks of gold.

One of the faded photo passed around showed two young girls and two small boys standing in front of the house. They were dressed in traditional Chinese clothing. The girls had long braids, and wore quilted jackets with pretty floral patterns. Each of the four children stood in a different pose, as if caught in an instant between bouts of energetic play. In the second photo, four older children stood sternly at attention, all sporting identical short haircuts and identically dressed in peaked caps and thin denim “Mao suits”, the uniform of the Cultural Revolution.

Chairman Mao began the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s by removing all his political opposition. In 1966 he shut down the schools and many of the now idle students joined units of the Red Guard, a paramilitary organization that persecuted the elderly and intellectuals, and battled for power with other Guard units. By the fall of 1967 anarchy loomed in many cities and the economy was failing. After lengthy power struggles between various factions, China achieved stability once more, but the economic and human cost of the Cultural Revolution had been high. Millions were imprisoned, many were tortured or had their property seized, and 1.5 million were killed.

“Look at these children,” said the guide. “They are smiling and mischievous. They are normal, happy human beings. Now look at these same children a few years later, how sad and serious they are. Before, they were individuals. They all dressed differently and wore bright colours. Now they are soldiers of Mao. They are all dressed the same. See how sad they look!”

“Life under Mao,” he added, “was 28 years of hell.”

Members of the tour group began to fire questions at him.

“So why is Mao still honoured?”

“Why is his picture displayed?”

“Why is he still portrayed on the money?”

“Isn’t China still Communist?”

He explained that the People’s Republic had evolved into a mixed economy, part socialist, part capitalist, but that Mao was still honoured as the founder of the current system and because the current administration was part of his legacy.

Yes, indeed. In the new China I had seen clear evidence of capitalist activity such as private banks, luxury hotels and fast food franchises like KFC and Starbucks. But I also sensed a tense undercurrent. I had seen security everywhere, sometimes unobtrusive videocam surveillance and sometimes more obvious groups of police officers, and there were unbelievably thorough security checks at every national monument.

According to the guide, the house we were sitting in was worth 40 million dollars in the new capitalist economy, a tidy profit on a long ago investment of 3 kilos of gold, and a nice legacy to be shared or perhaps fought over by the owner’s six sons. Sadly, the guide informed us, this old house would probably be torn down and replaced by an apartment block or office tower.

Leaving the cosiness of the living room for the chill air outside, I crossed the uneven surface of the courtyard past bare fruit trees and the remains of the summer vegetable garden. Two gourds clung to life on the branches of a dying vine and a string of artificial chili peppers made from shiny red and gold fabric hung from a bare branch like an enormous yet bizarre Christmas decoration.

Out in the alley the rickshaws with their gold fringed red canopies and cramped seats were lined up waiting to return us to the warm spacious luxury of the tour coach taking to the airport.

As we sped back through the Hutong District, I sat rubbing warmth back into my chilled fingers, anticipating the short flight south, and looking forward to the milder climate of Shanghai.

If You Go:

I recommend going to Beijing in the spring or early fall. It was surprisingly cold in November and can also be unbearably hot in summer.

Although the Hutong tour was part of our tour itinerary, independent travellers can book a similar tour through their hotel. Rickshaw, group and private walking tours are available. They vary in length from 4 to 8 hours and prices range from $US 49 to $US 69. You can read more information at www.tour-beijing.com/hutong/#.Wh9eODD_q1s

About the author:
Lesley Hebert is a graduate of Simon Fraser University. Now retired from teaching English as a second language in the classroom, she teaches ESL to international students via Skype. She also writes on-line articles which reflect a lively, inquiring mind and a love of travel, language, history and culture. Read more of Lesley’s articles.

Photos by Lesley Hebert

India: New Delhi, a Shopper’s Paradise

by Susmita Sengupta

Is shopping a true facet of tourism? Or is it merely a whirl into the materialistic world? This question has often popped up into my mind on our vacations and trips to various countries around the world. More often than not we relegate shopping to an afterthought, a gathering of trinkets as a memento of our journeys. Happily, it becomes a part of my life on my annual extended visits to New Delhi, India.

This teeming, bustling capital of India that effortlessly straddles the old and the new world is a shopper’s paradise. Over the years of visiting New Delhi, I have had the opportunity to go to a vast array of markets, malls, stores and bazaars. While this may not sound as the best way to spend vacation time, shopping in Delhi is an experience unlike any other.

I begin by visiting the neighborhood marketplaces which have a charm of their own as each market has its own unique personality. These are the places that cater to the residents of the locality for all their daily needs. Stop by these markets if you want to try the local cuisine or buy local items at the fraction of the prices charged at more popular places. Most of these markets are laid out in a courtyard fashion with shops all around a central built in plaza or in case of larger available space, the shops will be arranged around the central neighborhood park. On a cold, winter evening during a recent visit, I was tempted by the aromas wafting from the momo cart that was surrounded by people oblivious to the wintry chill enjoying these stuffed dumplings originally from Nepal and Tibet. Instead we opted to be in the relative warmth of the eatery inside the market where the chhole bhature, the Punjabi dish consisting of deep fried bread accompanied by spicy chickpeas was equally delicious and mouthwatering.

The real tour of Delhi shopping areas should start at the chaotic, crowded bazaars of Chandni Chowk in Old Delhi. Situated opposite Red Fort, the Mughal era fortification and palace complex that was built by Emperor Shah Jahan in 1638, Chandni Chowk or Moonlight Square has a storied history. The market begins at the Lahori Gate, the main entrance of Red Fort and still has shops that can trace their roots to the Mughal era. It was established in 1650 by Jahanara Begum, the favorite daughter of Shah Jahan. The original plan had a pool and a canal running through the center where the moon would be reflected on full moon nights, thus giving the bazaar its name. That does not exist today and the market is a warren of streets full of shops selling everything from books, textiles, food, jewelry, spices, and even medicines, chemicals, electrical goods and more. Each commodity has its own defined streets and areas and certainly visiting these zones is an adventure unto itself.

Chandni chowk is also home to the representations of the different religions in India. The imposing and gorgeous Mughal era Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India looms over the hustle and bustle of the market while the Fatehpuri Masjid, another Mughal mosque is on the other end. Nearby are the Gurudwara Sis Ganj, the Sikh temple established in 1783, the 16th century Digambara Jain temple and the Gauri Shankar Hindu temple which is dedicated to Lord Shiva.

Less than three miles from Chandni Chowk is Connaught Place, which is named after the 1st Duke of Connaught. It is the heart of Delhi and is a shopping, business, recreational and entertainment center built during the British rule of India. Located in New Delhi, CP as it is known by Delhiites, was constructed in the late 1920s and early 30s in the Georgian architectural style by Robert Tor Russell, an associate of Sir Edwin Lutyens, the architect of New Delhi. Connaught Place is easily recognizable on the map of Delhi as a wheel shape that has two concentric circles in the middle around a central park with roads emanating from the center in a radial fashion. The buildings that form a part of the Inner Circle and Outer Circle are two storied white colonnaded structures with arched walkways. On any given day the place teems with locals and tourists, all there to enjoy the various retail establishments and eat at some of the finest and most famous and historical restaurants of Delhi.

A visit to Delhi is incomplete without once making a trip to Janpath, and its namesake market along the road that starts out from Connaught Place. Janpath meaning People’s Path was also known as Queen’s Way in the British era and for years this market has been the go to destination for bargain hunters from both India and abroad on the lookout for ethnic style clothes, shoes and fabulous traditional jewelry. Also present are the women from the states of Rajasthan and Gujarat who travel to Delhi so they can sell their handmade miniature paintings and colorful, heavily mirrored and embroidered cushion covers and bags at a higher price than in their home states.

Close to Janpath market is another stalwart of Delhi, the Central Cottage Industries Emporium which was established by the government in 1952 as an outlet to showcase the rich heritage of handicrafts in India. With a department store like setting, this place is a haven for anyone who wants to experience the entire art and craft legacy of India but simply doesn’t have the time to visit the entire country. There are textiles, tea, spices, jewelry, furniture, carpets, paintings, pottery, sculptures and more representing all twenty nine states and seven union territories. One can also visit the individual state emporiums if time is not a constraining factor. These places are geared towards selling the handmade highlights of that state. For example at the Rajasthan Emporium you will find pichwai paintings and sculptures, jeweled glass and lac bangles, and traditional outfits while at Kashmir emporium, it would be carpets and embroidered woolen shawls and garments that would draw you in.

While it’s true that a mall visit can really have no redeeming purpose, we do make it a point to go to at least one to catch up on the new world of modern Delhi. The idea of shopping malls arrived in India in the 1990s as the country opened to the global economy. Delhi got its first mall in 1999 and since then shopping malls have proliferated all through the city. The DLF Promenade Mall in South Delhi is a shopping destination full of high-end international stores along with top-notch Indian brands. We particularly enjoy the various food kiosks in the food court that sell everything ranging from burgers, Indian style Chinese food, foods from Punjabi cuisine, South Indian delicacies such as dosas and idlis and Mughlai dishes of kababs and curries.

Of all the variety of shops and markets that I have visited during my annual sojourns to Delhi, the ones that have given me the most joy are the weekly vegetable markets that spring up in a neighborhood during certain days of the week.

Also known as “haat”, similar to the western farmers’ markets, these are stalls that are set up on a road blocked to traffic for a few hours in the early evening. The sellers bring vegetables grown in the farms that are situated on the Delhi outskirts. There are carts full of fruits which are bought by the vendors from the fruit wholesale markets, thus making them fresher than the ones found in the local markets and stores. Along with the customary mounds of potatoes and onions, eggplants, tomatoes and green beans and peas, there were the vegetables of my childhood that I had not seen in years. Green papayas, large spiky green jackfruits, “mocha”, the purplish maroon flowers of the banana plant and the inner white cores of the banana plant stem known as “thor”, long green drumsticks and more. Nearby a cart overflowed with pomegranates, the vendor having displayed a few cut ones on top like an open flower with little pink jewels.

So whether you are an inveterate shopper or just enjoy window shopping, Delhi provides an almost endless list of various shopping hubs to suit different styles and budgets. It provides an inimitable insight into the sights, sounds and smells of this city and an expansive look into the whole country.

Delhi Evening Food Walk Tour of old and New Delhi – $32.00
from: Viator

If You Go:

The Delhi Tourism Shopping page provides a comprehensive list of all the shopping destinations in the city.

Central Cottage Industries Emporium is located at Jawahar Vyapar Bhavan, Janpath.

Individual State Emporiums are located in State Emporia Complex at Baba Kharak Singh Marg.

Chandni Chowk can be reached by yellow Line of Delhi Metro.

Vasant Kunj Malls is a complex of three malls and is located at Nelson Mandela Road.

Connaught Place and Janpath Market are near each other and are easily accessible by any mode of transportation.

For neighborhood markets and haats, it is best to ask the inhabitants of that area as they will provide the desired information.

About the author:
Susmita Sengupta is a freelance writer who loves to travel. She and her family have traveled to various parts of the USA, Canada, Europe, the Caribbean, Middle East, Southeast Asia and India. She resides in New York City with her family.

All photos by Susmita Sengupta.

A view of Christmas decorations at an upscale mall
A plate of Chhole Bhature with a side of pickles, onions and green chili
Stalls selling art and crafts, clothes and jewelry in the early evening at a neighborhood market
The Georgian colonnaded architecture of Connaught Place
Ganesh statue for sale at Central Cottage Industries Emporium

Malaysia: Snakes, Ladders and Leeches in Borneo’s Gunung Mulu National Park

Park Ranger and guide in Borneo, Malaysia — Park Ranger (left) and guide, Sham

by Martin Kafer

“Oh no! we are stuck!” Esther cries in dismay. The Land Rover, driven by a quiet native man, is mired down deeply. We are on the way to the trailhead for a mountain trek to view the Mulu Pinnacles and now we are stopped in a huge muddy section of the narrow, tree lined jungle track that follows the shore of the Menilau River. The driver tries to pull his way out forward and backward without any luck and, in desperation, finally commands with a shout: “Everybody out and walk along the track!”

Everybody means our local guide Sham and the two of us, my wife and myself. With the vehicle emptied of passengers he is able to get the mud-spattered car onto solid ground, hurray! We can get back in again and then are bumped for about another hour’s slow ride closer to today’s final destination, camp #5 in Gunung Mulu Park. But then suddenly the driver stops again just before we hit a second, larger and impassable looking mucky bit. We are shooed out of the car, there is no choice now, and we have to continue on foot. Sham shoulders his large bundle and we both put on our daypacks, grab our hiking poles, and I strap on my camera bag last.

Our young, good looking native guide, Sham, whose services we had arranged two days earlier at a travel office in the town of Miri on Borneo’s Northwest coast, has joined us at the Royal Mulu Resort. This luxury lodge has two larger service buildings and quite a few smaller guest bungalows, all built from local wood and set on an elevated, snake-proofed platform. For guests the access is by small plane from Miri to the nearby gravel airstrip carved out of the forest along the Menilau River, it is the only way for tourists to get to this remote, fantasy vacation place.

The whole complex was developed by a Japanese hotel chain in the verdant jungle about a hundred km Southeast of Miri. During our first full day at Royal Mulu we joined a small group for a fascinating excursion to one of the nearby karst limestone caves festooned with myriads of glistening stalactites and stalagmites. The quiet beauty of the cave was alive with swarms of (free-tailed) bats, many flying in and out the entrance and others hanging quietly on the walls. Later in the afternoon back at the resort we enjoyed some soothing swims in the lavish, Jacuzzi equipped swimming pool.

On the morning of the trek Sham came to the door of our bungalow and immediately offered an effusive greeting in his stilted English and right after he added with a smile: “This is only my second guiding trip, I hope you are both happy at the end!” On our three-day wilderness hiking trip he will have to carry the heavy stuff, including food and cooking gear, all in a large woven bamboo basket with ridiculous shoulder straps made from string. When we pitied him he laughed: “No sweat, I am used to it!”

A short twenty-minute walk along the muddy track from where we were so unceremoniously dropped off, Sham stops suddenly. He points at the unfriendly looking, fast flowing and oily green Menilau river and says: “Here is the place where we have to cross!”

There is only one option to get to the other shore, we have to wade with boots off and pants rolled way up. Esther ties the bootlaces and hangs the boots from her neck and puts rubber sandals on, Sham and I do the same to our boots and the two of us go barefoot. The bottom is sandy, the water is quite warm, the current is very strong and the waves reach part way up my thighs. By walking side by side with Sham in the middle and all three of us holding onto our hiking poles as a steadying brace, we manage to reach the far side without stumbling or getting too wet.

Safely back on solid ground on the other shore we begin the hike in the big trees of the park, a wonderful contrast to the road side of the river outside of the park, which has been extensively logged. We follow a flat trail with lots of shade – even the hot humid air feels good. We hear lots of birds sing and some frogs, but are unable to spot anything moving in the dense forest as we are trekking along slowly through heavy underbrush, still wet from the previous days rain. Further along the rough trail we easily cross two small fast running side creeks on stepping stones. After about three hours of steady hiking we arrive at camp #5: a shabby looking duo of wooden huts huddled in the narrow Menilau river canyon under the steep limestone cliffs of Gunung Mulu. There is just enough daylight left so the two of us can have a quick swim in a calm pool adjoining the river while Sham is brewing tea at the hut. We just make it back safely by about six when darkness falls like a curtain and a tropical downpour starts with a thunderous drumming on the sheet metal roof.

To our and Sham’s dismay the sleeping mats and blankets, supposedly always stored in the huts, as we had been assured by him, are nowhere to be found. The two long nights we spend on the bare wooden boards with pack sacks as pillows and some spare clothes as mattresses turn out to be ordeals – bruised hips, mostly sleepless nights with only short naps to relieve the misery. This is especially ironic since we spent the previous two nights in the lap of luxury at the five star Royal Mulu Resort.

To make life at hut #5 even more difficult, the battery for the lights, fed by solar panels, is low due to many days of cloudy weather. The kitchen area alone is lit off and on, yet Sham cooks and serves us what turns out to be an excellent dinner, which we enjoy inside followed by tea on the front steps. The rain has stopped for a while and we can watch the fireflies flitting around. The no-see-ums fortunately stopped their stinging activities when it got dark.

Morning cannot come too soon for us, luckily the sun is out, as Sham had predicted in the evening. After a quick breakfast, we set off in the early heat of the new day with Sham leading the way. The fourth member of the party is a park ranger, who has somehow appeared out of nowhere and volunteers to come with us. The trail soon steepens with roots, limestone boulders, long steps in slippery dirt and often thorny tree branches in the way.

We stop a few times for a rest, a drink of water and some dried fruit. The hike is on a narrow, but well marked trail straight up the steep mountain side, which is festooned with lush vegetation – trees, roots, giant ferns, bushes, rocks, dirt, hat grabbers and eye pokers. The sweat pours off me and I am soaked through. It is a relentless climb until we come to a flatter area, where there are many deep and dark pits in the karst limestone. The smaller ones we have to jump across, but the larger ones have been bridged with slippery planks or metal beams. It is quite a balancing act to cross on one or two narrow girders without railings over the gaping black holes: fortunately, we get a helping hand from our guide and the ranger, one at each edge.

To make the trip more exciting we have to climb aluminium ladders for many steep or vertical rock sections. A total of fifteen ladders, Sham tells us, since he was a member of the trail crew that installed them. This trek turns out to be quite a workout for the old legs and arms. The hiking poles are life savers even if they are sometimes in the way, dangling from our wrists, as we scramble up the many ladders.

I have just reached the top rung of another steep ladder leading to a wide, rocky platform when I come face to face with a snake coiled on a boulder, staring at me. “Watch out! a snake here, it’s a green one!” I shout as a warning to Esther who is climbing on the ladder just below me. “It’s only a small pit viper!” is Sham’s reassuring cry. I am lucky enough to have the camera ready, the little creature must be scared because it stays absolutely motionless while I quickly take a shot.

Finally, after nearly four hours of strenuous ascent we reach our goal, the Pinnacles view spot, congratulations all around, we made it, picture time! The panorama of the many sheer limestone pinnacles we can see across the deep canyon is very impressive, especially with the late morning mists drifting around the top of the steep, pyramid shaped rock towers. It’s a unique and once in a life time experience and to me, worth all the drudge and toil of the climb.

Within less than half an hour the view of the fantastic limestone “forest” is obscured by the lowering clouds. As a consolation, we have a nice lunch and a good rest with leisure to admire the beautiful red throated pitcher plants growing profusely on the inside edge of the platform and nearby a small garden of white Impatiens flowers.

The trek down to camp #5, the second painful night on the boards and the long hike out to the river in heavy tropical rainfall are a bit of a blur, but we certainly remember being pounded by a continuous downpour in the lush forest undergrowth. This day provides us with our first unpleasant and messy encounter with blood sucking leeches which Sham tells us should just be ripped out of the skin, since the bleeding will clean out the “poison”! This procedure was especially painful for Esther who, at the end of the trip, discovered that two leeches had fastened themselves near her private parts!

On the other hand, the heavy rains turn out to be very helpful, since the resort’s boatman can use the swollen Menilau river to navigate his large motorized dugout right to the spot where we had to ford on foot two days ago. We are quite pleased when he arrives with a smile, serves up a nice picnic lunch and then takes us in the boat along the flooding river quickly right back to the Royal Mulu hotel and airstrip, no complaints from us about a shorter, smoother and more comfortable return trip.

That same afternoon we fly back to Miri and on to Kuching for more Borneo adventures.

If You Go:

The most important probably is to make early reservations for the expensive, fly-in (from Miri) accommodation and the obligatory local guide, the jungle hike is quite remote and may-be difficult to arrange. The other three factors for a successful hike are: you have to be physically fit, be prepared for hot and exhausting bush travel and put up with the bugs etc. while enjoying a unique adventure.

Borneo history

Travel Borneo

PBS: Borneo in the Clouds

Mulu National Park

About the author:
Martin, who recently celebrated his 90th birthday with a day’s downhill skiing at BC’s Whistler Mountain, was born in Switzerland, has been a mountaineer and ski enthusiast since he was nine years old and a travel adventure seeker since his early twenties. He has, together with his wife Esther climbed over five hundred mountains, including the Matterhorn on their honeymoon. They did many of their climbs during their extensive travels which has taken them to more than sixty countries on five continents during their more than sixty years of marriage. Writing his book of memoirs has been a more recent, but hopefully also successful endeavour.

All photos by Martin Kafer

India: The Durga Puja Festival

The Celebration of Victory of Good Over Evil

by Susmita Sengupta

Durga Puja, the celebration of the victory of the warrior Mother Goddess Durga over the buffalo demon Mahishasur, is a major annual Hindu festival in India. Although primarily a festival for Bengalis in the state of West Bengal, it is observed not just all over India but also around the world wherever Bengalis have made their homes. The festival dates are determined according to the lunar calendar and the days for the festivities are in the autumn in September or October. The festival period, also known as Navratri in the northern parts of India is ten days long. However, from the sixth day to the tenth it also becomes Durga Puja for Bengalis. The Puja season starts from Mahalaya which is seven days before the sixth day of Navratri or the first day of Durga Puja. Legend has it that on Mahalaya, the Goddess lets go of her fearsome fighter aspect and leaves her heavenly abode at Mount Kailash in the Himalayas to visit her earth mother with her children. On this day, devotees pray to their ancestors and it officially marks the arrival of Durga Puja. The Mother Goddess is invited to descend to earth through the chanting of mantras and by singing devotional songs.

For me, throughout my growing up years in India, Durga Puja meant dressing up in new clothes and visiting the puja venue not just for Anjali (the offering of flowers to the goddess with the accompaniment of Sanskrit mantras) but also to catch up with friends to compare notes on our clothes and accessories and finishing up with the biggest attraction, the delectable and mouthwatering selections of food.

Curiously, from the 1930s an early morning radio program has become synonymous with Mahalaya. This audio program known as “Mahishasur Mardini” or “The Destruction of Mahishasur” is a compilation of chants, devotional songs and recitations from “Chandi Mangala Kavya”, a holy scripture that can be translated as “The Auspicious Poetry of Chandi”, where Chandi is a namesake of Durga. These poems are a hallmark of medieval Bengali Hindu literature that eulogizes the worship of a particular god or goddess. Mahishasur Mardini was recorded by All India Radio and is narrated by Birendra Krishna Bhadra who, because of this recording is an iconic name in all Hindu Bengali households.

A favorite childhood memory of mine is of waking up at 4 am, the original broadcast time, to the sounds of this nearly two hour audio show, our home reverberating with the echoes of the sacred conch shell, and the recitation of the divine Sanskrit chants with a background of acoustic drama. In today’s modern world, it is not unusual to see Bengali families around the world turning to various other sources such as TV, CDs, and also the internet to hear this seven decades old Mahalaya audio montage to signal the beginning of the Puja season. That is what we do too. Early on Mahalaya morning we go to youtube and listen to the recording and an air of festivity fills up our home far, far away from India.

The story of Durga that is told in this audio program is as follows. There was increasing cruelty by the demon king Mahishasur in the world of gods. Unable to bear the tyranny any longer, the gods beseeched Lord Vishnu to help them. So the holy trinity of Vishnu (The Preserver), Brahma (The Creator) and Shiva (The Destroyer) got together and created Goddess Durga or Mahamaya, an all-powerful female form with ten arms. She was the Mother Goddess who emerged from the collective energy of all gods and was the primeval source of all power. She was then bestowed with the weapons of all the gods and blessed to do the needful. Armed thus like a warrior, Durga rode a lion into a fierce battle with Mahishasur, the buffalo demon king and slayed him with her trident. There was great joy in heaven and earth at her victory.

Thus the show ends with Sanskrit intonations invoking the blessings of Goddess Durga for all mankind. She is invited to come down to earth from the heavens which she does while accompanied by her four children, the goddesses Lakshmi (deity of wealth), and Saraswati (deity of knowledge, music, arts and wisdom), and the gods Kartikeya (god of war) and Ganesh (elephant headed god of auspiciousness and remover of obstacles).

Following the day of Mahalaya, the preparations for Durga Puja begin in earnest. Statues of Durga and her children are put up in neighborhoods of cities, towns and villages. The artisans or idol makers had started their work in the month of July. Traditionally, a dollop of mud from a prostitute’s home is used to start the creation of the clay mix for the Durga idol. It is then mixed with clay from various sacred river beds and patted on to the basic grass model that gradually takes the idol shape. The idols are painted and dressed in the finest of silks and bedecked with flowers and jewelry and transported to all corners of India and even abroad for the Puja. In anticipation of the arrival of the idols, parks, community centers, or any available block of land is rented by Puja organizers weeks before the beginning of the festival. Money for all expenses is raised through donations and sponsorships by local residents and businesses. The venues are transformed into an arena for celebration by the putting up of pandals which is a kind of a temporary shelter or tent. While some of these pandals might just be a simple construct consisting of a large colored cloth on upright poles covering a swath of space, most nowadays are complex, artistic and architectural structures built exclusively with bamboo, clay, cloth and coir.

The best of the innovative pandals with highly creative and inspiring decorations can be seen in Kolkata, in the eastern part of India, capital of the state of West Bengal and the true hub of Durga Puja. In recent years, pandals in Kolkata have taken shapes of the London skyline, Buddhist temples, illuminations of dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals, replicas of historic Indian temples and even highlighting issues of social cause such as empowerment of women. Pandals are lighted up with thousands of twinkling lights and chandeliers and devotees after entering would make their way in to see the Durga idol. Pandal hopping is now a time honored ritual of Puja and it is not unusual to see long lines of people waiting to get a glimpse of a magnificent pandal. The number of Pujas in Kolkata, whether communal or in households have numbered upwards of four thousand. An air of fun and frolic, devotion and gaiety fills up the city.

Durga Pujas in Mumbai, the financial capital of India, are highlighted by the glitz and glamor of Bollywood stars, some of whom being Bengalis, are the organizers of their community pujas. People crowd the pandals to get a glimpse of their favorite stars and getting bhog (holy food) served by them.

In the capital city of New Delhi, Durga Puja is primarily a neighborhood community festival, with all of them being organized by Bengali expatriates. There are close to 400 pujas in Delhi and while the city does not vibrate with the same energy as Kolkata, there is a definitive informal charm in the celebrations. That being said, in recent years some of the old, established puja pandals have started following the trend of themed pandals and pandal hopping too is coming to the fore.

After a gap of almost twenty years, I visited a Durga Puja Pandal in New Delhi, India with my family and was immediately transported back to the days of my childhood. The crisp, cool autumn evening air was redolent with the sweet aroma of burning incense and the rhythmic beating of the dhaak drums.

No matter where Durga Puja is celebrated, whether in India or abroad, the rituals and traditions followed are the same, handed down over hundreds of years.

On Mahalaya, the first ritual of Durga Puja, known as Chokkhu Dan takes place. This means the bestowal of eyes to Goddess Durga. While all the idols are all dressed up and ready in the pandal, Durga’s face remains hidden, waiting for the auspicious moment of Chokkhu Dan, when the eyes are drawn on her face. The next six days are spent in final preparations for the five day event. Bengalis prepare by decorating their homes and buying gifts and new clothes for themselves, and their friends and family. Schools and colleges remain closed in West Bengal for Puja holidays though not anywhere else in India. Inside the pandal, the Puja area is filled up with all items needed by the priest for the prayers which would include clothes, fruits, flowers, vegetables and sweets. On one end of the pandal a stage would be built where entertainment programs of music, dance and drama take place in the evening on all five days. Some pandals will also have stalls selling clothes, books and jewelry where devotees can indulge in some festival time shopping. Providing meals for devotees is an equally important part of the celebration. These include lunch and dinner being provided sometimes for more than two hundred people at a time. All visitors, often times numbering in the thousands are also given bhog prasad which is the holy food offering made to the deity. It is also not unusual to see elaborate food stalls in the pandals, serving a variety of delicacies.

The five days of the Puja are observed as Shashthi, Saptami, Ashtami, Navami and Dashami, also known as Vijayadashami or Dusshera which is also the penultimate day of Navratri. On Shashthi, the first day of Durga Puja, there is celebration of the arrival of the deity to the mortal abode of earth by the symbolic unveiling of her face. The next three days are devoted to the worship of the goddess, with devotees on all days offering Pushpanjali, meaning offering of flowers, accompanied by Sanskrit chants. Ashtami, the third day of the Puja is characterized by Sandhi Puja, when the goddess is worshipped in her warrior form to the accompaniment of 108 oil lamps and 108 lotus flowers along with clothes, jewelry, sweets, vegetables, fruits and flowers. Sandhi Puja which begins in the last 24 minutes of Ashtami ends with the arrival of Navami, the fourth day of the Puja.

On the last day of Dashami, all the idols are carried in a procession with much fanfare and are immersed in a nearby lake or river. This event, known as Visarjan, meaning immersion in water, marks the end of Durga Puja.

Although I had attended many pujas over the years in New York City, nothing beats the glory of experiencing Durga Puja in India. What is interesting is that a religious festival over the years has transcended to become a truly social and cultural event that is open to all.

If You Go:

Durga Puja is celebrated in virtually all cities and towns of India that has a Bengali population. If you are in India during the Puja dates, ask any local resident of the place you are in about the location of the local Puja as some of the towns will generally hold a much more intimate, neighborly Durga Puja. Almost all pujas are free to enter.

If visiting crowded areas is not your cup of tea, you can also check out the channel ABP Ananda if there is access to a television. The program Puja Parikrama, (where parikrama, a Sanskrit word meaning circumambulation around an object of devotion) shows viewers pandals from all over India and abroad and is a nifty way to experience Durga Puja without the hustle and bustle.

It is also possible to visit pujas on your own and it is better to visit the pandals during daytime to avoid the crowds. However, it is a magical experience seeing the brightly lit and decorated pandals at night.

Future Durga Puja dates:

2017: September 26 – 30
2018: October 14 – 18
2020: October 22 – 26
2021: October 11 – 15
2022: October 1 – 5

About the author:
Susmita Sengupta is a freelance writer who loves to travel. She and her family have visited various parts of the USA, Canada, Europe, the Caribbean, Middle East, Southeast Asia and India. She is a regular contributor at www.travelthruhistory.com

All photos by Susmita Sengupta
A close up view of Goddess Durga and her four children
Durga idol inside a pandal, the heavily decorated makeshift tent
A beautifully designed pandal
Devotees in front of the Goddess
A Durga Puja celebration in a housing society
A Durga Puja in New York

India: New Delhi Before The Mughals

by Susmita Sengupta

New Delhi, the capital of India, or Delhi as it is more popularly known, belongs to that pantheon of world cities that have a continuous history of a thousand years and more. The first time that we hear of Delhi is in the epic Mahabharata where it is mentioned as Indraprastha. In the ancient Indian period, Delhi remained a Hindu kingdom but not many structures from those periods have survived to the modern times. The record and coverage of this extensive history truly began with the arrival of the Delhi Sultanate in the 12th century. The Delhi Sultanate had five dynasties that ruled successively. The first four were of Turkic origin and were the Mamluk Dynasty (1206-90), the Khilji Dynasty (1290-1320), the Tughlaq Dynasty (1320-1414) and the Sayyid Dynasty (1414-51). These were followed by the Afghan Lodi Dynasty (1451-1526).

On our recent annual trip, my family and I decided to visit some of the oldest monuments in Delhi. We started at the Hauz Khas Complex, a set of monuments built during the reigns of Allauddin Khilji (1296-1316) and Feroz Shah Tughlaq (1351-1388). The area around the complex is where Khilji, considered one of the most powerful rulers of the Delhi Sultanate, set up his capital of Siri. This would be the third of the seven cities of medieval Delhi. It contains an Islamic seminary or madrasa, the tomb of Feroz Shah Tughlaq, a mosque, six domed pavilions and a water tank or Hauz Khas, meaning literally Royal Tank.

The tank was excavated during Khilji’s reign to meet the water demands of the growing population of Siri. It was used to collect water during the rainy season and then distributed to the people of the city. Originally known as Hauz-i-Alai, it fell into disrepair after the end of Alauddin Khilji’s rule and was cleaned and re-dug by Feroz Shah Tughlaq of the following dynasty. Although later on the reservoir went dry and remained so for centuries, recently the whole complex was renovated. Today the tank has again been refilled with water and the entire complex has been enhanced and preserved.

The cluster of buildings around the tank was added by Feroz Shah Tughlaq who built the Madrasa-e-Feroz Shahi in 1352, the Islamic school considered to be the largest in the world of that era, around the edge of the tank. The building is a two storied L-shaped continuous structure, stark and austere in the Tughlaq tradition and while today it is mostly in ruins, it was very easy to imagine it as being filled with students learning in its grand rooms. On this cold January evening, the area was jam-packed with visitors, young and old, tourists, locals, school and college going kids, all enjoying the warmth of the late sunlight. We too decided to sit down for a while, surrounded by people, and enjoyed the newly landscaped vista of trees and pathways around the tank.

To our front was the lake, surrounded by greenery, the shimmering sun ready to set over it and to our side were the domed pavilions, glowing in the light of the early evening, perhaps the tombs of the teachers at the madrasa. No one really knows for sure. At the junction of the two wings of the seminary, stood the tomb of Feroz Shah Tughlaq himself, a square mausoleum with a high dome. It is unusual because it has all the elements of Buddhist, Hindu and Islamic architecture.

The notorious Turkic invader Timur, also known as Tamerlane, who raided Delhi in 1398 to wage a holy war, set up camp in Hauz Khas. It is interesting to note that while he ransacked the riches of Delhi, he documented the Hauz Khas monuments in his memoirs. “When I reached its gates, I carefully reconnoitered its towers and walls, and then returned to the side of the Hauz-i Khas, a reservoir constructed by Sultan Firoz Shah, and faced all around with stone and cement. Each side of this reservoir is more than a bow-shot long, and buildings are placed around it. It is filled by the rains in the rainy season and supplies the people of the city with water throughout the year. The tomb of Sultan Firoz Shah stands on its bank,” wrote Timur in Turkish which was translated into Persian nearly two centuries after his death in 1405.

At the Qutb Minar Complex, we entered an even older world. The construction of Qutb Minar, a red and buff sandstone tower, was begun by Qutbu’d-Din Aibak in 1199 CE. Aibak was the founder of the Mamluk dynasty, also known as the Slave dynasty. He was a slave of Mohammad Ghori, a sultan of the Ghurid Empire whose reign spread from modern day Afghanistan to the eastern parts of India. Ghori returned back to Khorasan in Afghanistan after conquering Delhi and left Qutbu’d-Din Aibak as his military commander. And thus he became the first Sultan of Delhi.

The buildings in this complex laid the foundation for the beginning of the Indo-Islamic style of architecture, an assimilation of both the Indian Hindu and Islamic styles of art and building. But then again there was no specific standardization as the architectural styles would vary according to a particular region of India. This amalgamation came about because the Muslim rulers had no other option than to use the local artisans, sculptors and craftspeople who were set in their own styles and traditions.

The Qutb Minar stands tall at 72.5 m (238 feet) and is the tallest brick minaret in the world. It is a fluted tower of alternating angular and circular sectors built for the muezzins for calls to prayer. There are five stories, each of which has a projecting balcony decorated with beautiful stone brackets. The surface of the minar (tower) has floral decorations and numerous carved inscriptions in Arabic which highlight its history. After Aibak built the first level in 1199 CE, three more levels were added by Sultan Iltutmish (1211-1236 CE), Aibak’s successor and son-in-law. As per the inscriptions, more repairs were done by Feroz Shah Tughlaq of the Tughlaq dynasty and Sikander Lodi (1489-1517 CE) from the Lodi dynasty.

The day was bright and sunny when we entered the Qutb complex, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, designated so in 1993. Just like at Hauz Khas, here too inspite of the throngs of tourists and locals, and the cacophony of the Delhi traffic just outside the complex gates, one can immediately feel being transported to a different world. We craned our necks upwards to check out the Arabic calligraphy stunningly carved into the red sandstone facade of the tower. The Qutb Minar is a landmark in Delhi, being visible from way beyond the grounds of the complex. There are 379 steps in the interior to reach the top although entry inside has been banned for a long time.

All around us were the remnants of a bygone era, even dating back to the Iron Age. There was the Iron Pillar of Delhi, from about 375 CE, with inscriptions that tell us it was built during the Gupta dynasty reign often known as the Golden Age in Indian history. The pillar, about 24 feet tall is made of 98% pure iron and still hasn’t shown much signs of rusting. According to some historians, the pillar, originally located in a Vishnu Temple complex in Udayagiri in the state of Madhya Pradesh in Central India was brought to this site by Aibak when he started the construction of the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque in 1198. The Brahmi inscriptions on the pillar, still preserved intact due to the corrosion resistant iron, show homage to a king named Chandra, whom historians have identified as Gupta King Chandragupta II from the late 4th century CE.

The pillar stands in the courtyard of the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, the largest mosque from that era. The earliest surviving mosque built by the Delhi Sultans, it was also expanded later on by Sultan Iltutmish and then by Alauddin Khilji. It consists of a large courtyard with columns from Hindu and Jain temples that were destroyed by Qutbu’d-Din Aibak. We get to know this from the inscriptions on the main entrance. The Iron Pillar stands in the courtyard of the mosque. The other structures in the complex includes the Alai Minar, which was begun by Alauddin Khilji, who envisioned a tower taller than the Qutb. But construction after the first story was abandoned after Khilji’s death in 1316 and today it stands as a 24.5 meter high tower of rubble.
Nearby stands Alai Darwaza, which due to a crunch for time we were unable to explore. Built in 1311, by Alauddin Khilji, it was one of four planned gateways to the Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque except that this was the only one that got built as Khilji died in 1316. A massive gateway with inlaid marble decorations and latticed screens, it is again a superb example of Indo Islamic architectural style.

The Qutb complex has various other monuments like the tombs of Sultan Iltutmish, and Alauddin Khilji and also the ruins of a madrasa or Islamic seminary built by Khilji. One really needs an inordinate amount of time to explore this complex and the surrounding Mehrauli Archaeological Park in its entirety and regretfully we did not have that.

As the evening crept up on us, we left the complex promising ourselves to make a return trip on our next visit to Delhi.

Independent Old and New Delhi City Tour in Private Car – $56.25
from: Viator

If You Go:

Hauz Khas Complex is accessible from all areas of Delhi using any kind of transportation. The closest metro stop is Hauz Khas Village on the Yellow Line. Green Park metro station, again on the Yellow Line can also be used.

Visitors to the ruins can also check out the adjacent Deer Park, home to spotted deer, peacocks, rabbits and local and migratory birds in a beautifully landscaped park. The ruins are set amidst a residential and commercial complex known as Hauz Khas Village which as of itself is a major tourist attraction. A real village that was transformed when a fashion designer opened a boutique here decades ago, the place is now chock full of trendy stores, restaurants, cafes and art galleries all existing cheek by jowl on winding, crumbling streets festooned with a jumble of electric wires hanging overhead.

Qutb Minar Complex is again easily accessible by all modes of transportation. The closest metro station is Qutb Minar also on the Yellow Line.

While we made these trips in hired cars, taxis, auto rickshaws and cycle rickshaws are available outside all metro stations and can be used to reach the destinations.

About the author:
Susmita Sengupta is a freelance writer who loves to travel. She and her family have traveled to various parts of the USA, Canada, Europe, the Caribbean, Middle East, Southeast Asia and India. She resides in New York City with her family.

All photos are by Susmita Sengupta:
The magnificent domed L-shaped building
A close up of ruins at the Hauz Khas complex
The Royal Tank or Hauz Khas now filled with water
Ruins at the Qutb Minar complex
The Qutb Minar
The Iron Pillar