Election Special

Wednesday 30^th April 2014

It's election day here in Gujarat. Not quite as crazy as I had imagined, but the polling stations are certainly busy. Narendra Modi himself will therefore be voting today, in this, his home state. Perhaps the lack of election fever here is because the result is a forgone conclusion: Gujarat is a BJP stronghold, with Modi leading the government here uninterruptedly for 12 years. Their promoters at stands on the streets are certainly in good spirits. Much as I'm not a fan of Mr. Modi and the BJP, his campaign is undeniably smart. 

A cheerful wave from the BJP guys in their 'Modi for PM' hats.

   Here's how I see the three main parties and their frontmen (these are just my own views, no authority or offence intended):

Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), Narendra Modi: Hindu Nationalist, right-wing. Modi: a snake. Clever, a bit sneaky, somewhat feared. Could be dangerous, but we're not quite sure. Has plenty of lovers, but plenty of haters too. 

Indian National Congrees, Rahul Gandhi: centre-left, mostly led by the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty. A teddy bear. Comforting, familiar, but perhaps a bit out-dated. Nice on the outside, but stuffed with drugs? (I'm talking about corruption, in case my metaphor is a little too abstract). 

Aam Aadami Party (Common Man Party; AAP), Arvind Kejriwal: centre-left, decentralisation, anti-corrpution. A baby. Novel, open to new things, youthful, bringer of hope, but naïve. 
Honestly, I don't know who I'd vote for if I had the opportunity. At least there is a 'none of the above' option. 

   It was great to see so many young people voting, and being proud to do so. There are around 150 million first-time voters in these elections. As the world in general becomes an ever more tough place for youth, but especially in India and the Global South, its previously apolitical youth are finally taking a stand on the system that makes decisions impacting on their everyday lives. 

A young voter we met outside
a local polling station.

   I love ice cream. Anybody who follows me on Twitter or Instagram will be fully aware of this.  The hot days in the office last week were vastly improved by a flurry of colleagues’ birthdays, because birthdays mean ice cream at work. Late July must be popular time to conceive in India.

From one of the best things about India, to one of the worst: shit. While it's at the opposite end of the spectrum from ice cream in my affections, it's equally as important, which is why I've written an article about some of the dire issues India faces regarding sanitation. People don't want to think about poo, let alone talk about it, so I hope that my voice may help, even it is only a tiny bit.

   Walking home on Friday, I decided to take what I thought was a path through trees, it was hot, I wanted shade. Turns out I had actually accidentally gone through a side gate (in my defence, it should have been closed) into Sundarvan Nature Discovery Centre. I stood transfixed by a group of peacocks for rather a long time, and was treated to a full display by one of the males - quite spectacular. It’s a shame the park rangers – and most of those employed in positions of minor authority - have such strong Napoleon complexes (short man syndrome). Clearly, my standing 5 metres from the birds, still and silently watching is far more disturbing to them than the rangers shouting at me, each other, and spitting everywhere. I didn’t stop to see the snakes, or the huge monitor lizard in its worryingly small, open enclosure (please excuse the oxymoron).

   As has seemingly become a little tradition, Sunday was given over to doing some touristy stuff here in Ahmedabad. A few weeks ago, I reserved a place on the morning tour at the Calico Museum of Textiles. While plenty of people are usually yawning before I’ve had time to finishing saying the word, I love museums. The Calico Museum was no exception. I’d been forewarned about the tour, and so went with relatively low expectations. The tour guide was formidable, to say the least. Our small group was marched through the galleries with precision and at rather a rapid pace, but the collection is truly fantastic. The museum itself is housed in a series of beautiful early 19^th century buildings brought from the old city and reconstructed in the lush (like actually, not in the Indian sense of the word), bird-filled, botanic gardens of the Sarabhai Foundation. The structures are resplendent with carved wood, and are an attraction in themselves. Unfortunately, cameras are not allowed anywhere near the museum. I even had to leave my mobile phone at the gate (its most high-tech feature is the colour screen – certainly no camera).

   My personal highlight of the tour were the exquisite embroidered pieces made for the British and Portuguese. Three hundred years later, the incredibly fine work and colours are vibrant as ever. Ahmedabad, throughout its history established itself as the home of a developing textile industry, which earned it the nickname ‘Manchester of the East’. It may be very different from contemporary Manchester in terms of size and culture, but the curries in both are certainly in close competition. After a several shawls from Kashmir, gold stitched saris from Maharashtra, and patola pieces from Patan (it’s a unique and impressive technique, but I don’t care for the products personally), there is a large gallery of brightly coloured patchwork pieces from Orissa (Odisha). They reminded me of Matisse’s paper cut-outs. And then came the Bihari quilts: their animal designs looked like Miró sketches.

   That afternoon, my friend Chintan and I, along with his latest Couchsurfer, headed a few kilometres southwest from the city to Sarkhej, the site of a beautiful complex of monuments arranged around an artificial lake. We had tried - unsuccessfully - to visit Sarkhej Roza a couple of weeks ago, so it was nice to finally get there.

Queen's Palace, Sarkhej Roza.

   The lake was dry, save for a few stagnant puddles left over from the rain at Easter, but the majesty of the site was barely diminished. Constructed in the mid to late fifteenth century, there is a mosque, the mausoleum of Sheikh Ahmed Khattu (spiritual mentor of Ahmed Shah, founder of Ahmedabad), along with palaces and tombs. Sarkhej became a retreat for the sultans of Gujarat, and remains popular with many people today, for both spiritual, social and recreational purposes.

Basin for ablutions, Sarkhej Roza.

Sheikh Ahmed Khattu's Mausoleum, Sarkhej Roza. 

   Standing in front of the Sheikh’s mausoleum is the sixteen-pillared structure with nine domes, known as the Baradari is situated in the central portion of the open courtyard. Its floor is paved with coloured stones, and was surrounded by life, from pilgrims, to musicians, to children playing. 

Baradari, Sarkhej Roza.

   The dry lake bed was filled with youngsters playing cricket, seen against a backdrop of the glowing sandstone of the monuments and the encroaching skyscrapers of Ahmedabad’s urban sprawl.

Lake bed, Sarkhej Roza.

   Before I forget, I’d like to publicly thank Gemma at The Philosophy Club for the first decent coffee I’ve had since arriving in India. The macchiato was marvellous. I'm very much settled into life here in Ahmedabad, and while I'm excited to get onto the plane in exactly two weeks' time that will take me to Mumbai beginning my four weeks of travelling, I will miss my Gujurati comfort zone.