Delhi In November: It Is Fun Time!

If one is to list the best months in Delhi, November will most probably occupy one of the top slots. The ceiling fans are forgotten, the rajais and blankets are out, and hot ginger tea is just perfect to start your day with. School kids look different bundled up in their dark, heavy winter uniforms. Gone are the whites of the summers, replaced by greys, navy blues and olive greens. The hazy, lightly misty mornings are wonderfully alluring, filled with the promise of a cool, sunny day. When the sun comes out, it is the start of a glorious day; ideal for picnics, outdoor activities or simply lazing around in your backyard.

The vegetables in the market look fresher, greener and full of life. When the first batch of cauliflowers or the first bundle of methi leaves arrives in the market, many shoppers return home with them triumphant, happy as they are to bid goodbye to the tasteless summer fare. Soon, desi (country) tomatoes which are sourer and tastier than the sturdy salad variety, red carrots ideal for salads, fried rice, pulao and gajar-ka-halwa, long green pods bursting with smooth green peas, crisp white radishes, gleaming cabbages and fat bunches of spinach appear on the scene; very much to the delight of vegetarians. The fruit section looks attractive too, with oranges and apples dominating the scene.

It is the wedding season in the capital. Time for baraat, sangeet and mehndi ceremonies from Janakpuri to Sainik Farms ( à la 'Band Baaja Baaraat'). Cultural activities fill up the social calendar of the city. Theatre and music hotspots in the Mandi House area are abuzz with events which are a treat to the connoisseurs as well as laymen. The Bengali Market nearby seems to be the perfect destination for trying some tantalisingly sinful dishes, just after attending a music recital or watching a play. Pragati Maidan, the massive complex for exhibitions is not too far. And the crowds there have to be seen to be believed when it hosts the India International Trade Fair every year for two weeks, starting November 14th. It is a major business event that impacts the traffic on Mathura Road and other roads in the vicinity in a big way.

The pleasant weather adds to the merriment. The festive atmosphere that starts around Dusshera, continues through Diwali and lasts until Christmas. It is as if the Delhiites are determined to make up for the opportunities they lost in the long and oppressive hot months. Women don beautiful silks which they had abandoned in favour of light cottons through the summer. Sales and exhibitions at places like the popular Dilli Haat help one in refurbishing one's wardrobe, with lovely handloom and silk fabrics on offer from all over India. You are likely to find the mauve shawl or the burgundy dress material that you were looking for here.

The circular traffic islands in Central Delhi are very busy, especially in the afternoons. Some of them are so huge that they are actually parks. Babus working in various bhawans in the central district spend their lunch hour enjoying the gorgeous winter afternoon. There are all kinds of people there, some taking a nap, some reading and some playing cards. Hawkers selling munchies like peanuts and chips do brisk business. Occasionally, a chaiwala makes an appearance with an aluminium kettle and plastic cups that are small enough for just a sip of tea. In the residential areas across Delhi, women sit with a pair of knitting needles and colourful balls of wool, wherever they can find a patch of sun outside their home, crafting a sweater for a dear one, or making mittens for a newborn. They are so adept at it that they produce a beautiful pattern without even looking at their handiwork.

Food, clothes, outings, picnics, weddings, parties...all in all, it is fun time in the city. The only ones dreading the winter are those without a roof over their heads, sleeping outside railway stations, temples or under overpasses. As the sun sets early on a winter evening and darkness descends over the capital, it is a long, chilly night ahead...something they don't really look forward to.

Delhi In October: The Magic Happens!

October brings with it a promise of deliciously cooler mornings and pleasant evenings, although one has to wait for almost the whole month for that to happen. It is only towards the end of this month that the weather Gods decide to smile on Delhi. The early days in October are pretty warm, but some time during the later half, the magic happens. If you wake up early in the morning and step outdoors, the air feels different. And you wonder, could this be the reason behind the smiles on the faces of those who are out at that hour...morning walkers in neighbourhood parks, newspaper delivery boys, parents taking their children to bus stops and people queueing up in front of Mother Dairy booths to buy milk.

Politicians make a mandatory appearance in the early hours on Gandhi Jayanti at the Rajghat, their pristine white khadi clothes looking brighter in the mild sun. It is a sombre occasion, repeated every year with customary piety; telecast with strains of Bhajans and occasional chirping of birds in the background. The Khadi Gramodyog Bhawan near Regal in Connaught Place announces its annual discount sale, providing khadi lovers with an opportunity to stock up on their favourite apparel. With the introduction of designer khadi, it is no longer the staid fabric it once was. It has come a long way from the days of the freedom movement, turning itself into a cool and happening material for designer wear.

Huge images of Ravana take shape in various areas across the city, complete with 10 oversized heads. As they near completion, they are mounted in large grounds; their enormous bodies stuffed with firecrackers. Two smaller figures of Kumbhakarna and Meghnad stand on either side of Ravana. On Dusshera, around dusk, these go up in flames, filling the surroundings with deafening sounds from the firecrackers as they catch fire. The colossal effigies start collapsing, symbolising victory of good over evil. This spectacle takes place at many locations, prominent among them being the Ramlila Maidan and the Subhash Maidan.

Karva Chauth, familiar to everybody thanks to Hindi movies, is a big day for married women. They observe a fast, praying for the well-being and long life of their husbands. One can see heavily made up women in most neighbourhoods, sporting bright red sarees or dresses, their arms full with glass bangles and palms covered with intricate henna designs. Looking at the evening moon through a sieve, they accept the first sip of a drink or the first bite of food from their life partners. This must have been a private ritual that families observed in the confines of their homes. But almost all our festivals are turning commercial and Karva Chauth is no exception. Shops selling women's merchandise announce sales and beauty parlours offer special packages for this festival, giving it a new dimension altogether.

Photo by nkjain [CC-BY-SA-2.0]

Talking of commercialism, the most commercial of all our festivals is Diwali; Christmas and New Year being a close second. With all the gift-giving around, the joke in Delhi is to never open the dry fruit boxes that you may have received by the dozen. One is not sure how long ago these were packed, and it is better to just pass them on to somebody, who in turn will do the same. Jokes apart, it is indeed a time for new clothes, sweets, holidays and get-togethers. The dark night is illuminated by millions of lamps across the city to the accompaniment of thunderous bursting of firecrackers. The trail of haze and smoke that is left behind late into the night is there to stay for the next few months, as winter is about to set in in Delhi.

A Celebration Of Talent

The last three days were so full at the Svanubhava in Chennai that I feel very empty today. The lovely Svanubhava theme music is echoing in my mind throughout the day. They describe themselves as a cultural movement by students of the performing arts. It is amazing what a bunch of dedicated and enthusiastic people can put together. The Rukmini Arangam at Kalakshetra was buzzing with activity, what with hordes of school children and dance/music loving elders descending on it at nine in the morning every day. The day was chock-a block with performances and question-answer sessions back to back, but for a short lunch break and even shorter tea break.

Most of the artistes who performed are stalwarts in their fields and it was heartening to see how humble they are. When curious kids asked them about the feats they can so effortlessly perform in their chosen art form, they simply attributed them to the blessings of their Guru or God, not mentioning their own hard work and years of practice behind it. There was a fairly varied spread for all to enjoy. Vocal and instrumental music in Hindustani and Carnatic style, qawwalis, baul sangeet, thevarams (Shaivaite hymns), a Bharatanatyam lecture-demonstration, yakshagana, villu pattu (folk story-telling), and a discussion on 'Does Indian cinema reflect the reality of Indian women?'. Some of these performing arts were of special interest to me as I was watching them for the first time. My appreciation for villu pattu and yakshagana would have been several times greater if I had a good knowledge of Tamil and Kannada respectively.  But even without that they were a pleasure to watch because of the involvement and passion of the performers.

The ambience contributed a lot to the enjoyment. The open auditorium at the Kalakshetra and the informal seating arrangement made one feel as if it was a mehfil in a friend's house that one was invited to. Everybody sat together, everybody ate the same food together and everybody had a good time together watching whatever was going on on the stage. Almost all the volunteers in their twenties or early thirties were wearing traditional attire...veshtis and tops for men and cotton sarees for women. That presented a pretty picture too. A bunch of foreign students were no exception.

All these art forms have been existing for a long time, but when you experience so many of them in a short span of time, it makes you proud of your heritage as an Indian. The young men and women who belong to the Svanubhava team deserve a big applause for their efforts in bringing together such gems from various parts of our country, organising a celebration of their talent, and sharing it with dance and music lovers across the world. Webcasts of all the events have been made available on their blog for those interested.

The organising team headed by T M Krishna, an accomplished vocalist in the Carnatic style, has put in a lot of work and it shows. Fresh sheets about the day's programme were handed out everyday, giving brief but well-researched introductions about the artistes for the day and their accompanists, complete with lively illustrations. Students from several schools were not only invited to attend the event, but were encouraged to ask questions to the performing artistes. For many of them, this must have been their first exposure to the cultural scene in their city and country.

I sincerely hope that this movement continues and gets bigger every year. This year, after the Chennai leg, it has gone to Delhi, where it will be on until the 15th of this month. It will be nice to see more representation in terms of performances from states in the North, East and Central India in the future editions of Svanubhava. And inviting some younger artistes will be a good idea too. But for now, heartfelt thanks to the whole team for letting me share this wonderful experience, which has been very enriching and which I will cherish for a long time to come.

http://svanubhava.blogspot.com/2011/08/svanubhava-2011.html

Kathakali @ Kalakshetra

Dusk is descending on the Kalakshetra in Chennai. Beautiful kolams (traditional patterns drawn on the floor) lead one to the venue where the stage is set for a dance-drama performance. Fragrance of sambrani wafts in the area as coils of white smoke emanate from various places, dense at the bottom and disintegrating in the air as they rise up. Bunches of fresh neem leaves are being used to keep the insects away. An attractive arrangement of flowers floating in a large clay bowl welcomes everyone at the entrance. It is a lovely semi-open theatre set amidst lush green tress.

Photo by Rakesh S (CC-BY-SA-2.0)

I am here to watch 'Uttara Swayamvaram', a Kathakali performance, my first ever. The painted face of a Kathakali performer is very familiar as it is one of the most common icons of Kerala. One often notices it in advertisements, calendars and on the covers of magazines. But I have never seen a Kathakali dancer in flesh and blood. So I am all eyes and ears, waiting for the curtains to part. The huge kalivilakku (lamp) placed on the front part of the stage is lit. It is a signal that the recital is about to begin. As the curtains slide open, four formidable middle-aged gentlemen appear on the stage. They are dressed in off-white mundus with the mandatory gold border. They are all bare-chested. Two of them take their place on one side in the front while two stand at the back. The ones standing on the side are drummers, playing the chenda and the maddalam. The horizontal drum is tied to the waist of the drummer while the vertical drum is supported by a sling around the player's shoulder. The duo at the back are singers, doubling up as accompanists with chengila (a gong made of bell metal, which is struck with a wooden stick) and ilathaalam (a pair of cymbals). Don't be overwhelmed by these names...it is just that I had done my homework before going!

As the musicians get going, two men bring a rectangular, decorated piece of cloth, just like a large bedspread, and stand holding it as if it were a curtain, shielding a good part of the stage with it. We do not come to know when the dancer arrives on the stage, for our view is blocked by the makeshift curtain. A little later, I notice a shiny headpiece bobbing behind it. Then two hands appear on top of the curtain. Only the left hand is wearing five rings, one on each finger, with bright, long nail-shaped extensions. After a display of some exquisite mudras (hand gestures) by the unseen performer, the curtain is finally pulled down and taken away. The hero of today's show, Duryodhana is standing magnificently, with all his bells and whistles. The first viewing is somewhat intimidating, for his is a larger-than-life figure. The spectacular headpiece, the green face, symmetrical designs drawn in contrast colours around the eyebrows and the lips in order to highlight them, the heavy decorations around the neck, the long black hair, the red full-sleeved jacket and the red and white skirt held around the hips like a huge umbrella. I am in awe of this costume. One would need a lot of practice just to carry all this stuff on oneself! Interestingly, while the ornamentation is very heavy at the top, the feet are completely bereft of any colour or jewellery. Even the ghungroos are tied around the knees, not ankles.

Photo by Rakesh S (CC-BY-SA-2.0

The first scene is a slow, romantic act between Duryodhana and his wife, Bhanumathi. They are in a beautiful garden, appreciating nature's bounty. This scene is replete with facial expressions and hand gestures. The whole face is being used like a canvas to express a variety of emotions. Duryodhana's control over the movement of his eyes and eyebrows is simply superb. At one point, he even synchronises moving his eyebrows with the beats of the drum. Bhanumathi, being played by a man is comparatively less ornate in her costume and accessories.

The next scene shows the court of Duryodhana, where he is discussing with others the possibility of the Pandavas, who are supposed to be in exile, taking shelter in the neighbouring kingdom of King Virata. This scene has a lot of movement and action when a messenger relates various happenings, which strengthen their suspicion about the presence of the Pandavas in the nearby kingdom.

In the third scene, Duryodhana summons the king of Trigartha, Susharma; and asks for his help in the plan to identify the Pandavas and scare them away to the forest. Susharma is ferocious and scary with his red hair and red beard. The actors bring alive scenes of battle on the stage, complete with imaginary chariots, horses and elephants. In the end, Susharma is of course defeated by Bhima, who is working in the royal kitchen as a cook during his exile. The battle scenes depicting veer rasa are ably supported by the musicians, with the music reaching a crescendo several times during the performance. Not just the actor, but the musicians are so involved in the scene that they are greatly charged up.

The high-energy performance has been going on non-stop for three hours. The spirited musicians have been standing all along, captivating the audience with their invigorating music. The singers have been busy too, as the entire storytelling happens through the verses that they sing. The actors/dancers do not say a word. Only the actor playing Duryodhana unleashes some cries from time to time. The verses are pieces of poetry written in Manipravalam, which is a mixture of Malayalam and Sanskrit, used in ancient literary works. I can catch the Sanskrit words, but the Malayalam component escapes me. It is a pity not to be able to appreciate the original compositions, but thanks to the excellent text on the slides being projected on one of the walls of the stage, I follow the details of the story as it unfolds. And enjoy it thoroughly! The all-natural ambience at the Kalakshetra and the appreciative audience add to the experience.

Later, all the artistes are requested to come back to the stage for the presentations. It is amusing to see that the all-powerful Duryodhana, who dominated the dance-drama for the last three hours, is a diminutive man clad in a simple shirt and mundu, completely shorn of his embellishments. I remember having read somewhere that in Kathakali, it is important for an actor to let his personality be completely overshadowed by that of the character he is playing. Sitting in this pretty little theatre, and looking at the small figure of Injakkad Ramachandran Pillai on the stage in front of me, I think it is so true!

A glimpse from an earlier rendition of 'Uttara Swayamvaram':

Pondicherry: An Ideal Getaway From Chennai

If you are thinking of a nice weekend getaway from Chennai, Pondicherry (now called Puducherry, but I am sticking to Pondicherry because more people know it that way) is almost sure to top the list of the options available. It is 160 kilometres from Chennai and it takes about three hours to get there. Most of the route passes along the scenic coast. No wonder that the highway is simply called the East Coast Road, abbreviated to ECR in Chennai. One can take a bus or a taxi from Chennai. You may want to stop at Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram) on the way. This is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, about 60 kilometres from Chennai. There are beautiful temples carved in stone, situated along the beach in this small town. The monuments are believed to have been built between the 7th century and the 9th century. But they have been standing so close to the sea for so long that the exquisite carvings have lost all their sharpness. Most of them are just some irregular shapes with rounded edges. The finer details of the works are lost, but the temples, chariots, pillars and sculpted reliefs have stood the test of the time and look impressive even today. That is the reason why Mahabalipuram is a popular destination for tourists.

There are several beach resorts on the way to Pondicherry. It is an interesting town...Pondicherry. Most of it looks like a typical coastal town in Tamil Nadu, while a small part makes you feel as if you were somewhere in France. Pondicherry came into being in 1673 under the French rule. It was the capital of French India until as late as 1954. The French Quarter is a charming little place, blessed with the lovely backdrop of the Bay of Bengal. Many of the streets retain their French names, while some buildings remind you of French villas.

Over the years, Pondicherry has become synonymous with Sri Aurobindo Ashram. The ashram was founded by Sri Aurobindo, a prominent freedom fighter, philosopher and poet, on the 24th November,1926. Soon after that, he withdrew from public life, handing over the running of the ashram to his French co-worker, Mirra Alfassa, better known as the Mother. The ashram attracts lots of visitors from India and abroad. Bureau Central, located on Rangapillai Street acts as the information centre for the ashram and helps visitors in all possible ways, including arranging accommodation in one of the ashram guest houses. I have made only day trips to Pondicherry and so I did not get a chance to stay in any of the guest houses. But I have heard that they are very good.

It is best to explore the French Quarter and the area around the ashram on foot. I walked to the ashram and joined the queue of people waiting for their turn to enter the ashram premises through a small door. I had expected the main ashram building to be quite large, but it is surprisingly small, a rather unassuming structure which you enter directly from the footpath outside. Later I came to realize that the ashram is spread out over the French Quarter in the form of numerous small units, all painted in the characteristic white and grey. There are guest houses, dining halls, book shops, educational institutes and cottage industries. These industries are engaged in activities like batik painting, embroidery, handmade paper, incense sticks, herbal soaps, candles, oils, perfumes and book publishing. You have to see the variety of incense sticks sold under the brand name 'Auroshikha' to believe their extensive range. Their packing is very attractive and their scent divine. SABDA (Sri Aurobindo Book Distribution Agency) is a well-maintained bookshop selling literature based on Sri Aurobindo's and the Mother's philosophy.

The main ashram building that houses the samadhi (tomb or cenotaph) of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, is open for visitors for four hours in the morning and four hours in the afternoon/evening, with a two-hour break in between. As you enter the premises, you are led through a flower-filled little garden path towards the inner courtyard where the samadhi occupies the centre stage. The samadhi is a simple marble structure under the canopy of the branches of a large tree. But what is striking is the elaborate decoration on it done with fresh flowers. It is completely covered with an arrangement of colourful blossoms, making the area redolent with their mixed fragrance. People come silently, kneel down to touch the samadhi with their forehead, then move away to sit in the courtyard that extends on all four sides of the samadhi. Everybody sits quietly, in meditation or prayer. No cell phones, no music, no talking, no clicking of cameras as photography is not permitted...only occasional chirping of birds. For most, this is the high point of their visit to Pondicherry. Spending some quiet moments near the samadhi is an enriching experience.

My favourite place to visit after the main ashram building is the Goubert Avenue which runs parallel to the beach. It is within walking distance from the ashram. The seat of the local government, the secretariat is located along this avenue. Some lovely guest houses and hotels occupy other places of pride along this beautiful promenade. The beach here is lined with rocks, not sand. A prominent landmark in this area is the tall black statue of Mahatma Gandhi standing under a white dome supported by pillars. Walking along this not-so-crowded avenue with balmy breeze blowing from the majestic Bay of Bengal is very enjoyable.

Another place of interest very close to the ashram is the Manakula Vinayagar Temple. It has been around even before the French came and settled in Pondicherry somewhere around 1670. It is a Ganesha temple and there is always an elephant at the entrance to bless people. Outside, there are little shops selling knick-knacks. I loved browsing in them before buying some pretty incense stick holders carved from light green stone. The lanes around the ashram are lined with small bookshops, boutiques and little eateries. It is fun walking around there.

About eight kilometres from Pondicherry is the experimental township called Auroville. It was founded by the Mother in 1968 with an idea of international brotherhood and harmonious community living. At the heart of this sprawling township is Matrimandir, a golden metallic sphere. Entry into this magnificent dome is restricted as it is reserved for those who wish to practise meditation seriously.

One can spend a few days in Pondicherry or one can just make a day-long trip from Chennai, as I did. Either way, it is a trip that soothes you, and refreshes you before you get back to your busy life in the city.

Delhi In September : Stuffy, Sultry And Sticky

September is thankfully the last of the trio of the most unbearable months in the nation's capital. It is hard to classify this month under any particular season, for it is nothing but a continuation of the seemingly unending spell of heat coupled with humidity. Residents of Delhi who survive three long months of dry summer followed by another three months of muggy summer wait eagerly for September to end, hoping to see some light at the end of the dark tunnel. It does rain at times, but not so much as it did in August. The cloud cover disappears and most of the times, the sun shines brightly, sometimes fiercely over weary Delhiites. The inhospitable weather comes as a rude shock to people visiting Delhi. The city is swelteringly stuffy with its trees looking lifeless and forlorn, for there is no breeze to rustle through their leaves and make them sway with happiness.

Photo by Prateek

The Mother's International School on Aurobindo Marg is an oasis of tranquillity amidst the rapidly growing urban stretches around it. Situated inside the serene Aurobindo Ashram premises, it is one of the most sought-after schools in Delhi. It is Teachers' Day and the 12th graders are decked up in colourful clothes. Girls in sarees and boys in ethnic Indian ensemble or other formals. It is their final year in school and they are playing the role of their teachers today, letting the real teachers go for an outing or a picnic. It is fun time for everybody as these young teachers 'teach' in classrooms mimicking their teachers, assume an air of authority occupying the hallowed offices of the principal and vice-principal, and enjoy an easy access to the staff rooms and other normally out-of-reach areas in the school. Surely a nice way to spend a day dedicated to teachers, marking the birthday of Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, our second President and a great teacher himself. Similar activities are taking place in schools across the city and the whole country. Students are showing their appreciation for their teachers by gifting flowers and cards to them.

While it is fun and games in the idyllic world of school kids, it is not the same in the real world outside. Businesses like jewellery, catering and real estate suffer a temporary slump as people are averse to making an important purchase or having an auspicious occasion like a wedding or an engagement during 'pitrupaksha'. It is a fortnight-long period of paying respect to one's ancestors. Some people observe specific rituals, others engage in charitable activities, while the rest don't really do anything. But a large number of people desist from making a big monetary transaction or having a celebration in the family, waiting patiently for this span, more commonly called 'shradh' in Delhi to pass.

The shradh fortnight ends and then begins a very auspicious interval of nine days and nine nights called 'navaratri'. The life of Lord Rama is enacted in 'Ramlilas' through the nine nights leading to Dussehra. Most of the action takes place in Old Delhi. Ramlila Maidan is of course well known, though maybe people know it now more as the venue of Anna Hazare's fast than as the ground where Ramlilas have been happening for years. All the grounds where a Ramlila takes place, are generally abuzz with activity much before the show starts. There is a carnival-like atmosphere with food stalls, toy stalls and fun rides for children. Ramlila is a kind of folk theatre, but it is keeping up with the changing times. Lav Kush Ramlila in Delhi has a countdown counter ticking on its website and promises online live webcast of the event as the drama unfolds.

Navaratri is also the time for worshipping the Goddess in her myriad forms. Devotees throng Her temples all over Delhi. Prominent among them are the Kalkaji Mandir in Okhla Industrial Area and the Aadya Katyayani Shaktipeeth popularly known as Chhatarpur Mandir on Gurgaon-Mehrauli Road. People wait patiently in long serpentine queues to get a darshan of the heavily decorated and bejewelled idol of the Goddess. My favourite temple is the little Kamakshi Temple situated on Aruna Asaf Ali Marg, bang opposite the Jawaharlal Nehru University gate. It belongs to the Kanchi Kamakoti Trust and is frequented mostly by the capital's Tamil population. It is lovely, has open areas on all the four sides and sports beautiful floral decoration around the idol. You may even chance upon some delicious lemon rice or spicy sundal if you happen to visit the temple when families take turns to distribute these goodies there.

Chittaranjan Park, Delhi's Bengali enclave is getting ready for the most awaited period of the year. The end of pitrupaksha brings Mahalaya, starting the countdown to the four most important days beginning with saptami. It is time to welcome, adore and worship Durga. It is the puja time...a time for new clothes, good food and holiday with family and friends.

Elsewhere in the country, Ganapati festival and Garba/Dandiya dances are on. But in Delhi, these celebrations are restricted to pockets where there is a concentration of Maharashtrian and Gujarati communities, not leaving their mark on the overall social/religious calendar of the city. People from all the Indian states live in Delhi and you meet a nice sprinkling of them at your school or work, but the geographical location of the city does lend it a distinct North Indian flavour, making saadi Dilli a vibrant, fun-loving metropolis.

Delhi In August : Under A Canopy Of Clouds

It is a rain-swept morning. The city has been under a canopy of clouds for some days. The downpour has been steady through most of the previous night. The streets are waterlogged. School kids decked in colourful raincoats or covered under huge umbrellas walk to their bus stops braving the rains. Some of them march cautiously, some playfully while others step deliberately into the puddles that have appeared as a result of the incessant rains. When a car passes over a puddle, dirty water gets splashed onto them, much to the disgust of their mothers, who are walking them to their bus stops.

Across the street, sweet shops have extended their premises occupying the sidewalk, their makeshift shelves almost spilling onto the road. The temporary extensions are covered with tarpaulin sheets to protect them from rain and sun. Rakshabandhan is around the corner and sweets are going to be in great demand. Markets are flooded with rakhis, shiny ornamental threads that sisters tie around the wrists of their brothers as a symbol of mutual love, both wishing for each other's well-being. Shops selling women's merchandise are vying for buyers' attention by announcing discount sales, as brothers will be looking for suitable gifts for their sisters to mark Rakshabandhan.

The capital is geared up to celebrate the Independence Day in a big way. Security alerts are issued. Reports about security being 'beefed up' start appearing in the newspapers. Motorists buy miniature flags from sellers at traffic signals and adorn their dashboards with them. The area around the Red Fort is spruced up. The stage is set for the Prime Minister's address from the 'ramparts' of this historic castle overlooking the Yamuna. Ramparts...every year I come across this word only in the context of the Independence Day. Never have I seen or heard it being used anywhere else! Those watching the Prime Minister's address on the television can see people sitting in the foreground of the Red Fort fanning themselves with paper fans. Delhi is unbelievably hot and humid in spite of the rains. Short spells of rain do not bring any respite. Unless it rains continuously for a long time, there is no chance of cooling down.

The holy month of Ramzan has begun. Believers abstain from food and drink each day from sunrise to sunset during this month. Everyday, sehri (the time to start the fast) and iftar (the time to end it) hours appear in the newspapers. Iftar parties are thrown in the evenings by Delhi's political bigwigs. At the end of the month, it is celebration time on the day of the Ramzan Id. All the mosques wear a festive look. Thousands congregate for prayers at the Jama Masjid, the 17th century grand mosque in Old Delhi. They present a beautiful picture sitting down in the courtyard in neat rows and kneeling in obeisance.

Pragati Maidan, the huge expanse of exhibition grounds along Mathura Road is hosting the Delhi Book Fair. The crowds are moderate on weekdays. On weekends, hordes of book lovers descend on the venue. For some, it is a family picnic. Browse in the air-conditioned halls, eat at one of the numerous food stalls, catch a movie at Shakuntalam before heading home late in the evening. The parking lots next to the Supreme Court get filled very quickly. Maybe it is a good idea to use public transport, especially on weekends.

 All over the city, temples are decorated with lights and flowers to celebrate Janmashtami, birth anniversary of Lord Krishna. Some put up tableaux depicting various events-- from his birth at the stroke of midnight in a prison in Mathura till the slaying of his evil uncle Kansa. Festivities, keertans and bhajans continue late into the night. Birla Mandir in Central Delhi and ISKCON temple in East of Kailash are the main hubs of activity. Devotees throng these places, some planning to spend the whole day there. Religious processions are taken out, pandals are erected outside temples to provide shelter to the visitors, prasad is distributed and cultural programs are organized days before the festival.

The humid and damp weather does not dampen the spirits of Delhiites. So what if washed clothes don't dry properly, so what if roads are submerged under knee-deep water, so what if your domestic help does not turn up because it has been raining, so what if 'low-lying' areas get flooded as a result of heavy rains, so what if the mercury hasn't moved from where it was in July? Patriotic ballads and Rakshabandhan songs blare from FM radios and loudspeakers erected in neighbourhoods. Sweets are relished, holidays are planned around long weekends and families get together for celebrations. After all, they don't call it 'Dilli Dilwaalon ki'  for nothing!