Wednesday 30th 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.
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.
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 19th
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.
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. |
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.
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.
Baradari, Sarkhej Roza. |
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment