Insights from Travel
Last week took me to two unknown locations both of which I have known intimately albeit second hand; Sabarmati Ashram Ahmedabad because M K Gandhi inspires me and Moradabad which was the home of my dearest schoolmate and friend Sarla. Both persons are no more but visiting their cities was poignant with memory.
Ahmedabad, Amdavad is a city of contrast. The women folk are dressed in vivid colours, bold magenta, startling turquoise, deep sunset orange, green the colour of mango ready to turn into a ripened yellow. They wear their colours proudly and with elan against a backdrop of dull drab buildings, scanty foliage and insipid marketplaces. The roads are well laid with clear pavements dotted with wrought iron seating and its a common sight to see single women sitting on one at late night happily enjoying an ice cream bar. The Sabarbati is traversed by many bridges which turn into picnic grounds after eight as families take in fresh air and share a mean on a dhurie spread on the sidewalk.
Amdavad hospitality is shocking. From a small shop owner to a big textile magnet, they make one feel welcome. First cold bottles of mineral water, a little later tea or a cold drink and within the hour offer of refreshments, light snacks or a meal all from complete strangers. Amdavadis are courteous helpful and soft spoken. At the 'House of MG' a UNESCO heritage hotel we were treated to an excellent vegetarian meal of Gujarati cuisine made doubly enjoyable with impeccable attentive service. So welcome was the whole experience that I quite forgot my purse as i strolled out of the roof top terrace, i had thought I was in in a home and not a hotel. The auto drivers too amazingly polite and do not refuse a savari to take you to any place, they charge the exact fare and are ready to handover due change. We were two women and we travelled freely till late night without any apprehension.
No experience of Amdavad would be complete without a Modi story. Everyone one we met be it Mahesh Bhai, Jigar Bhai or Hashim Bhai, whether in Dhalgarwad Market, Panchvati, Vastrapur, Teen Darwaja or Panch Kuva they were proud of their city, state and Chief Minister, Shri Narendra Modi. It was disconcerting to hear them talk so warmly of their CM and many had proudly displayed his letters in reply to their own greetings of good wishes. In one letter Mr Modi refers to himself as 'Janata Janardan'!
With a sense of pride and personal endorsement Amdavadis talk of development, infrastructure and prosperity. They tell you there is no electricity power cut, no water problem, no civic issue. There are no overhanging wires, unfilled pits and dug out roads. The bus lane is used only by buses unlike Delhi where there are three cars to a bus on the bus tracks!
There is a blot and that is the abominable traffic sense. Cops stand gazing, lights go red green orange, but cars, buses, autos, scooters move without let up all at the same time from all directions. Its unnerving and scary. You adjust to that but how to reconcile to the gutkha pan chewing and spitting. So totally out of place in an unremarkable city with extraordinarily hospitable people.
Moradabad is a mere 160 kms from Delhi, like Chennai Tiruvannamalai I told myself, the drive should be just around 3 1/2 hrs. Delhi Gaziabad is a mere 30 kms and google gives it an hours drive. We left AIMS roundabout at 7 am and it took us two hours to reach Gaziabad at supposed pre peak rush hours. It was a hellish drive traversing Noida to Gaziabad with dusty roads, blaring horns and dust swirling embankments behind which rose tall ugly alien like towers soaring into a smoggy morning sky while huge banners read " The city that thinks intelligent for you.' Over crowded autos raced past clinging precariously to dusty roads, while maruti vans with at least 12 heads crammed inside zip past threatening to throw you off the road. The madness eases after Gaziabad and we have a smooth drive with green feilds on either side nurtured by Ganga ji that is down to a thin trickle. I recall the Ganga at Rishikesh, curvaceous and full, pulsating with life and find it hard to reconcile this wasted apparition to that beautiful belle.
Gajraula is a stopover paradise with KFC, Mac Donalds , Cafe Coffee day and Bikernerwall all laid in food courts on both sides of the road. The favorite stop is a dhabha patronised by Dhoni, Salman Khan & Mr Big B as gathered from dusty frames hanging in the inner room. Moradabad is filthy, unapologetically dirty and its hard to believe the wealth in the city. Its not a village, nor a town or a growing city but a place where there appears no civic management.
The toll gates on the highway operate on a system unknown to anyone not from those parts. There is a slip lane and at every toll gate a government vehicle with red light flashing would roar past followed by several minions in its wake. I thought the siren was an ambulance and asked the driver to give way only to discover that the wailing was for a VIP to get a free passage.
It was perplexing as to the need for a government vehicle to subvert the law. If government is above law, and government the chosen of the people, does it mean that all people are above the law. Who then is under the law ?
But to me a very significant factor from what one normally experiences in Tamil Nadu is the attitude of vehicle drivers. They drive rash, rough and hard and do not observe traffic discipline but they treat their passengers with great courtesy. No driver pushes back his seat and sleeps as though a first class air passenger, not one spoke on the cell phone while driving or play their music choices and every one helped with bags and parcels. There is no sneering at physical work, or a sense of obligation in providing the service. Truly when you call them ‘Bhaiya’ they are part of your work mission and goal. What a refreshing service attitude!
Last week took me to two unknown locations both of which I have known intimately albeit second hand; Sabarmati Ashram Ahmedabad because M K Gandhi inspires me and Moradabad which was the home of my dearest schoolmate and friend Sarla. Both persons are no more but visiting their cities was poignant with memory.
Ahmedabad, Amdavad is a city of contrast. The women folk are dressed in vivid colours, bold magenta, startling turquoise, deep sunset orange, green the colour of mango ready to turn into a ripened yellow. They wear their colours proudly and with elan against a backdrop of dull drab buildings, scanty foliage and insipid marketplaces. The roads are well laid with clear pavements dotted with wrought iron seating and its a common sight to see single women sitting on one at late night happily enjoying an ice cream bar. The Sabarbati is traversed by many bridges which turn into picnic grounds after eight as families take in fresh air and share a mean on a dhurie spread on the sidewalk.
Amdavad hospitality is shocking. From a small shop owner to a big textile magnet, they make one feel welcome. First cold bottles of mineral water, a little later tea or a cold drink and within the hour offer of refreshments, light snacks or a meal all from complete strangers. Amdavadis are courteous helpful and soft spoken. At the 'House of MG' a UNESCO heritage hotel we were treated to an excellent vegetarian meal of Gujarati cuisine made doubly enjoyable with impeccable attentive service. So welcome was the whole experience that I quite forgot my purse as i strolled out of the roof top terrace, i had thought I was in in a home and not a hotel. The auto drivers too amazingly polite and do not refuse a savari to take you to any place, they charge the exact fare and are ready to handover due change. We were two women and we travelled freely till late night without any apprehension.
No experience of Amdavad would be complete without a Modi story. Everyone one we met be it Mahesh Bhai, Jigar Bhai or Hashim Bhai, whether in Dhalgarwad Market, Panchvati, Vastrapur, Teen Darwaja or Panch Kuva they were proud of their city, state and Chief Minister, Shri Narendra Modi. It was disconcerting to hear them talk so warmly of their CM and many had proudly displayed his letters in reply to their own greetings of good wishes. In one letter Mr Modi refers to himself as 'Janata Janardan'!
With a sense of pride and personal endorsement Amdavadis talk of development, infrastructure and prosperity. They tell you there is no electricity power cut, no water problem, no civic issue. There are no overhanging wires, unfilled pits and dug out roads. The bus lane is used only by buses unlike Delhi where there are three cars to a bus on the bus tracks!
There is a blot and that is the abominable traffic sense. Cops stand gazing, lights go red green orange, but cars, buses, autos, scooters move without let up all at the same time from all directions. Its unnerving and scary. You adjust to that but how to reconcile to the gutkha pan chewing and spitting. So totally out of place in an unremarkable city with extraordinarily hospitable people.
Moradabad is a mere 160 kms from Delhi, like Chennai Tiruvannamalai I told myself, the drive should be just around 3 1/2 hrs. Delhi Gaziabad is a mere 30 kms and google gives it an hours drive. We left AIMS roundabout at 7 am and it took us two hours to reach Gaziabad at supposed pre peak rush hours. It was a hellish drive traversing Noida to Gaziabad with dusty roads, blaring horns and dust swirling embankments behind which rose tall ugly alien like towers soaring into a smoggy morning sky while huge banners read " The city that thinks intelligent for you.' Over crowded autos raced past clinging precariously to dusty roads, while maruti vans with at least 12 heads crammed inside zip past threatening to throw you off the road. The madness eases after Gaziabad and we have a smooth drive with green feilds on either side nurtured by Ganga ji that is down to a thin trickle. I recall the Ganga at Rishikesh, curvaceous and full, pulsating with life and find it hard to reconcile this wasted apparition to that beautiful belle.
Gajraula is a stopover paradise with KFC, Mac Donalds , Cafe Coffee day and Bikernerwall all laid in food courts on both sides of the road. The favorite stop is a dhabha patronised by Dhoni, Salman Khan & Mr Big B as gathered from dusty frames hanging in the inner room. Moradabad is filthy, unapologetically dirty and its hard to believe the wealth in the city. Its not a village, nor a town or a growing city but a place where there appears no civic management.
The toll gates on the highway operate on a system unknown to anyone not from those parts. There is a slip lane and at every toll gate a government vehicle with red light flashing would roar past followed by several minions in its wake. I thought the siren was an ambulance and asked the driver to give way only to discover that the wailing was for a VIP to get a free passage.
It was perplexing as to the need for a government vehicle to subvert the law. If government is above law, and government the chosen of the people, does it mean that all people are above the law. Who then is under the law ?
But to me a very significant factor from what one normally experiences in Tamil Nadu is the attitude of vehicle drivers. They drive rash, rough and hard and do not observe traffic discipline but they treat their passengers with great courtesy. No driver pushes back his seat and sleeps as though a first class air passenger, not one spoke on the cell phone while driving or play their music choices and every one helped with bags and parcels. There is no sneering at physical work, or a sense of obligation in providing the service. Truly when you call them ‘Bhaiya’ they are part of your work mission and goal. What a refreshing service attitude!
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