Mango mania in India

Here is an idea to spice up a dull summer morning: find two Indians, put them together in a room and ask for their opinion on the best mango in India. Leave them a while, then bring in two more. Sit back and watch the fun.

Indians may agree on other things, on rare occasions, even on politics. But when it comes to the mango, there is no consensus. Regional loyalties, specific preferences for taste and texture, seasonal specialties; the argumentative Indian is at his fiercest while discussing mangoes (and cricket, of course).

India takes the mango very seriously; come summer and newspapers discuss their arrival in the market with more animation than even the skyrocketing price of onions (a perennially favourite theme), neighbours inquire about mango purchase plans for the season and the streets are filled with the sight and smell of this luscious fruit, which is now coming into season.

Naturally, the colour of summer in India is yellow. Not the scorching breezeless yellow of the afternoon heat that saps all energy, but the mild, golden yellow of mango, one of the (few) things that makes summer in India bearable. The highlight of summer evenings in many homes is the aamras (mango puree), eaten with hot roti (wheat flatbread), a uniquely Indian food foible from the north that is popular right across the country.

Rajesh Gowda has been a fruit seller at the Gandhi Market in Bangalore for 40 years. Over the decades, he has seen mango prices soar, even as newer varieties enter the market each year. For Gowda, the four months that constitute mango season are usually the most profitable of the year.

“A kilo of mangoes that used to sell for 20 rupees 10 years ago now sells for 200 rupees [HK$35], but people have not stopped buying,” he says, happily adding, “I have customers who buy 20kg every week.”

Pinky Padmaraj, communications manager at the Oberoi Hotel in Bangalore, recalls how a guest from Denmark responded on tasting his first fresh mango juice: “So this is what the nectar of life tastes like.” Unsurprisingly, the visitor became a mango lover and ended up sampling every mango dish on the menu.

Indian mangophiles will agree, however, that the enjoyment of mangoes involves complete abandon and close attention, so it is best to leave your spoons and knives behind along with your inhibitions; the messier the eating, the merrier the experience. The best fruit are golden yellow skinned, some speckles of red acceptable, but no trace of green, please. The green indicates rawness; tart and crunchy, it is ideal for pickles, to be stored and savoured through the year. The green mangoes are also squeezed into a juice with caramelised sugar and a dash of cumin powder, called aam panna, which is believed to have cooling properties.

The maharaja of Indian mangoes is undoubtedly Kalimullah Khan, a farmer from Malihabad near Lucknow in northern India, who at one stroke paid tribute to two national obsessions by naming his new breed of mango Maestro Sachin (after cricketer Sachin Tendulkar). He has been cultivating mangoes since 1957 and has been awarded one of the highest civilian honours in India, the Padma Shri, for his successful experimental tree that can bear more than 300 varieties of mango
(through clever and careful grafting).

Different parts of India host mango festivals through the season, the most famous of them being the three-day festival in New Delhi every summer – this year held in the first week of July. Mango cultivators from across the country are invited to offer their produce for visitors to sample and buy. The other attractions are fun events such as mango-eating competitions, quizzes and, finally, the presence of chefs from five-star hotels demonstrating novel mango recipes

The Ranga Shankara Theatre in Bangalore, apart from regular plays and theatre festivals, hosts an informal mango party in June. Ruhi Jhunjhunwala, from the theatre, says the party is a nod to the belief that the enjoyment of mangoes in India is as much a social event as a personal experience: “We wanted it to be the way it is at home, where families and friends sit together and enjoy mangoes during season.” The only condition for attendance – that guests bring a kilogram of mangoes of their choice, add it to the common pool and then dig into as many as they want for as long as they choose.

The Indian love for mango has had a significant place in Indian history and mythology; the fruit is believed to have been mentioned in Hindu scriptures as early as 4000BC. Its shape has been a popular motif (paisley) in traditional apparel and has made a smooth transition into contemporary fashion. In this case it is the sinuous curve – teardrop with a curved end – and not the colour that is the highlight. Mango leaves are considered auspicious and strung outside doors during festivals and occasions. In everyday cooking, a powder of dried mango (called aamchur) is used in place of tamarind as a flavouring agent.

Amir Khusrau, a 13th-century Sufi poet, paid tribute to the mango in his own way:
The choicest fruit of Hindustan, For garden’s pride the mango is sought; Ere ripe, other fruits to cut we ban, But mango serves us ripe or not.

A few juicy facts worth knowing

When: The peak season for mangoes is from mid-April to the end of June, although mangoes are available throughout the year at some premium supermarkets in fresh, frozen or canned form. A month before the appearance of yellow mangoes in the market is the pickle season, when the green varieties are widely available.

Where: Famous mango markets include Ratnagiri, (also a beautiful coastal town), Hyderabad (of the exquisite Charminar tower and glass bangles) and Lucknow. The freshest and juiciest mangoes anywhere are found with the street vendors or in wholesale markets such as Crawford Market in Mumbai or the City Market in Bangalore.

What: Alphonso (Hapoos), Neelam, Banganapalli, Totapuri, Mallika, Malgova, Himsagar, Kesar and Langra are some of the most popular varieties. Champions of the Alphonso variety may be surprised to learn that this “king of mangoes”, as they call it, is not indigenous to India but was brought in by Portuguese nobleman Afonso de Albuquerque on one of his trips to Goa.

How: Mangoes are consumed in as many ways as possible in India – the common choices are ice creams, juices, milk shakes, lassi (mango beaten with yoghurt), fresh fruit, aamras and aam panna, while the more glamorous offerings include mousse, tarts, cheesecakes, martinis and margaritas.

***
Originally published in the South China Morning Post, April 2011

Melbourne must-dos

About a decade or so earlier, Melbourne woke up and decided that it had had enough of playing second fiddle to Sydney. In the constant Melbourne-Sydney rivalry, somewhat like that between Mumbai and Delhi, Melbourne kept coming up a poor second. This city did not have anything attention-grabbing, not an Opera House and spectacular harbour, nor was it blessed with proximity to the Great Barrier Reef.

So, like the famous Avis ad of the 1960s, which said (in relation to Hertz): “We are only No. 2, so we try harder”, Melbourne tried harder. And last year, it was voted the most livable city in the world in the Economist Intelligence Unit survey (with stiff competition from Vienna and Vancouver). While it may not have any iconic landmarks, it does have oodles of charm that makes you slowly fall in love with the city.

Head to Melbourne to make the most of early winter weather. As a local friend remarked, “Melbourne does winter very well.”

So, my list of Melbourne must-dos here -

1. Pay homage at the Melbourne Cricket Ground

If you are Indian, then this is the first thing you should do. Or probably will want to do. The venue of several legendary matches has guided tours for visitors when you can go and pay your respects on these hallowed grounds (say a salaam to the Rod Laver arena next door while you are at it). The tour takes you inside the areas normally closed to the public, including glimpses into the dressing rooms of the cricketers. It is only when you walk through the MCG that you realize that cricket is only one of the many games this ground has supported and nurtured over the years; information about sporting legends and their achievements are strewn all over the place. End the tour at the MCG museum, a superb collection of sporting trivia and memorabilia.

2. Take a walking tour

Melbourne is a city made for walking in, especially the central part which has a very European feel about it. Cobbled lanes, narrow arcades, cozy boutiques, outdoor cafes – the works. The Hidden Secrets Tour is highly recommended for not just the route they take you through but also the fact that the tour offers a lot of information about the history of this city. Their guides are knowledgeable and witty and the three hours pass in a jiffy. In particular, their Lanes and Arcades Tour shows a normally hidden side of the inner city, its small shops and cafes that tourists may not ever find on their own, including a shop selling magic and witchcraft items! (Tour cost: 115 AUD), with lunch.

Or devise your own coffee and chocolate tour – yes, Melbourne is proud of its coffee, chocolate and cupcakes. There are little Belgian chocolate shops dotted all over the central district, their window displays winking at you even if you determinedly try ignoring them. If you would rather do this in a more organized manner (remember this is chocolate we are talking about, so give it the respect it deserves), go on a Chocolate Tour – you can choose from a variety of them, indulging and perhaps shopping as you go along.

3. Go Harley Davidsoning

John Karmouche, the man who runs the Harley Davidson Tours in Melbourne says a rather dubious thing on his website: “I have come to understand the term ‘Pleasure Experience’. That is what we are committed to doing – giving pleasure.” You know that HD owners take their bikes very seriously and have a somewhat deep relationship with it, so take that statement at face value. John means that he cannot think of anything more pleasurable than riding around his city on an HD. It is a unique way of seeing the city, the wind on your cheeks and constant commentary from the front.

Their most popular (and deservedly so) tour is the Great Ocean Drive tour, which takes you down the, well, Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostles, the large limestone rocks jutting out of the sea. Or head to a winery in the Yarra Valley and spend an afternoon tasting different wines and listening to stories about them. Even if you are HD-inclined, do not leave Melbourne without going on the Great Ocean Drive – hire a car or take a bus tour but make sure you take in one of the most stunning drives in the world.

4. See the skyline on Eureka Skydeck 88

See the city skyline stretching out in front of and below you from the Skydeck on the 88th floor of the Eureka building. Early morning and late evening are the best times to visit, though there is a different experience to be had at any time of the day. You can walk around the Skydeck for views of the sea on one side and the city on the other. If you are feeling very brave, then buy an additional ticket for The Edge, a glass cube that projects 3 metres out from the building, so that you are suspended in mid air, 300 metres above the ground.

5. Spend a day at the Mornington Peninsula

The Mornington Peninsula is the stuff that tourism authorities’ dreams are made of: it has something for everyone. Adventure, nature, thermal spa, winery, beach activities – you name it, you got it. This is a great place for a day tour for the entire family. Children have a lot of activities to keep them happy. Take them strawberry picking – you buy a container and pick and eat as much as you can fill in that. Or go into a lavender farm (try the lavender honey and jams available in the gift shop), which also doubles up as an offbeat venue for weddings once in a while. When the weather is fine, go dolphin-watching into the ocean or horse-riding on the back lanes of the area.

Back in Melbourne, go bar-hopping in the evenings, take a river cruise on the Yarra or simply sit at Federation Square across the road from Flinders Street Station and watch the world pass by. And come away feeling charmed by this city, as I did.

***
Originally published here

City of small things

My ode to Mumbai was published in the April issue of Silverkris, the inflight magazine of Singapore Airlines – read it online here (all the fabulous photographs in the article are by Poras Chaudhary). Or read it right here on this blog (all photographs mine)…
***
As soon as I moved into my new home in a Mumbai suburb a decade ago, the doorbell started ringing. Neighbourhood vendors came in a steady stream offering to home-deliver anything and everything I might ever require, from newspapers to freshly baked bread and medicine. In Mumbai, the most populous city in India and the capital of the state of Maharashtra, it seems like they know what you need before you do.

Even now, as I walk in the city I call home, I am grateful to be on the receiving end of its gracious hospitality.

The finest example of such delightful customer service is in sight as soon as you step out of the grand and imposing Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, which is better known as CST. It is from this UNESCO-listed heritage building that most long distance and local trains – the latter, known also as locals, ply routes within Mumbai – start and culminate.

Travelling on the crowded locals, with its own code of conduct, is an art form in itself and not for the faint-hearted. But for the thousands who make their long journeys from one end of this city to the other every day, it is just a part of life.

I stand at Aram Milk Bar (126 Dr D N Road, Tel: 91 22 2207 3947) opposite CST, munching on a vada pav – a potato patty stuffed in a bun, spiced with red chutney made of chilli and garlic – that can give any hamburger a run for its money. From here, I can see the dabbawallas on the road – over 4,000 of them in Mumbai – calmly going about their business. The dabbawallas collect lunch boxes from homes in the morning and deliver them to the correct recipients at offices throughout the city, day after day. Using their own code to mark the boxes, they have been doing this accurately – to the impressive Six Sigma-certified rate of only one error for every six million deliveries – for over a century now. Britain’s Prince Charles, when he visited Mumbai in 2003, met these dabbawallas and was impressed enough to send some of them an invitation to his wedding to Camilla Parker Bowles two years later.

Later, I walk down to Marine Drive, passing roads lined with vendors selling everything from fake electronic items to fine clothing. This long stretch of beach bustles at all times of the day (and night too) with walkers, joggers, strolling lovers and families out for a breath of fresh air. I have a quick meal – try the smoked bell pepper risotto or the roast lamb – at Pizza by the Bay. This is followed by some delicious butter apple tea, made with tea liquor, apple juice, dollops of butter and a hint of lemon, at The Tea Centre (78 Veer Nariman Road, Tel: 91 22 2281 9142) in the Resham Bhavan building just down the road that leads to Churchgate train station.

For those who find walking and jogging – one of the most popular activities along Marine Drive – too tiring, Mumbai has an interesting alternative: laughter yoga. A form of yoga conceptualised in the mid-1990s by an Indian doctor, it involves hearty laughing along with deep breathing techniques – all meant to promote wellness and reduce stress. Some mornings, I head down the road, along the curve known as the Queen’s Necklace, towards Malabar Hills where Mumbai’s rich and famous live. A laughter club is usually in progress – there are over 70 in Mumbai alone – at the Hanging Gardens. Over 50 men and women of all ages can be seen laughing aloud to the instructions of a leader, forgetting their worries as they laugh and stretch.

Or you could spend a relaxing morning at Shivaji Park, the large open ground in the central suburb of Dadar. Shivaji Park has seen it all through the 20th century – it was the venue for rallies during the independence movement, and also provided space for some of India’s cricketing legends to emerge.

A Peep Into the Past

South Mumbai holds many secrets for those interested in the rich heritage of the city; I begin with Crawford Market, located north of the CST. Built in 1869 and named after Arthur Crawford, the first municipal commissioner of Mumbai, today’s market attracts both casual visitors and shoppers who throng the various shops selling a variety of goods. If you are looking for an old film poster or an antique gramophone, then head to Chor Bazaar (Thieves Market), near Mohammad Ali Road.

Mani Bhavan Gandhi Sangrahalaya is another space in Mumbai that helps define the city’s past. It is the house where renowned peace advocate Mahatma Gandhi stayed between 1917 and 1934 whenever he visited the city. It is now a museum, and also has a photo gallery and a library.

Just a stone’s throw from the Sewri train station stands the dilapidated remains of Sewri Fort, built by the British in the 17th century. The area sees an influx of visitors for a few months between December and March each year when the flamingos come visiting – and the mudflats turn into a carpet of pink. Go flamingo-watching with the Bombay Natural History Society (BNHS) to get the most out of this experience.

Resident Gods of Wealth

Making my way northwards, I stop at Dhobi Ghat, the vast open air laundry where groups of men are at work washing clothes from hotels, hospitals and homes across the city. The area is known as Mahalaxmi, so named after the goddess of wealth and purity, Mahalakshmi, who resides in a temple close by. It is believed that Mahalakshmi smiles over the city, ensuring that nobody who comes here goes hungry.

Well, whether or not you’re a believer, I’m quite certain the gods of wealth reside in High Street Phoenix shopping mall in the area. This sprawling complex houses top end brands and designer labels as well as London’s popular Comedy Store, which has excellent entertainment and quick eats. If you would rather linger over a meal, then Veda (Tel: 91 22 4332 6666), which serves authentic Indian and Moghul cuisine, is your best bet. Try its crispy okra and signature rich buttery Daal Veda (black lentil stew).

If designer labels are not your thing, then head to Linking Road in Bandra for some of the best street shopping in the country. While there, polish your bargaining skills and pick up some of the most fashionable clothes, bags and shoes at great prices. The other place in Mumbai to pick up handbags and purses at cheap rates is Dharavi, an area made famous by the movie Slumdog Millionaire. It is a little known fact that Dharavi has a large and thriving leather industry, though I would advise that you take a local with you when you go there, to help you bargain and negotiate the narrow lanes.

Eat, drink and be merry

You cannot leave Mumbai without having a Gujarati thali (platter) – try the one at the famous Golden Star restaurant near Charni Road train station. The Gujaratis are one of the largest communities in Mumbai and their food is a delightful combination of various flavours. Popular dishes include dhokla (a spongy cake made of gram flour and spices) and kadhi (a thin soup). When in season, aamras or fresh mango pulp is served as an accompaniment, making meal-time an absolute treat.

For the young and restless, Mumbai is India’s original pub city, so say local partygoers – although Bangalore, in south India, vies hard for that position. Spend an evening crawling through the best of them, from the quirkily named Malt & Pepper (16 Marzban Road, Tel: 91 22 2203 7357) near Sterling Cinema to Firangi Paani, an English-style pub. If you want views with your booze, then head to Dome, located on the rooftop of InterContinental hotel at 135 Marine Drive or Aer lounge at the Four Seasons Hotel in Worli, whose rooftop location on the 34th floor offers stunning views of the city that refuses to sleep.

So, when in Mumbai, don’t sweat the small stuff – just embrace them and you’ll be in for a delightfully good time.

Mumbai’s poster boys

It was Haji Abu’s grandfather, and then his father, who passed on their love for Hindi cinema to him. Mr. Abu turned his hobby into his profession, opening the Poster Shop some time in the early 1990s. Twenty or so years later, his tiny shop at Chor Bazaar (91-98704-40970) is crammed with thousands of old film posters, lobby cards and assorted film memorabilia, Mr. Abu explained as he showed off carefully preserved ticket stubs for blockbuster movies from the 1960s and ’70s.

Chor Bazaar, meaning ‘thieves market’ was once the place where stolen goods found their way. Now, it is where locals go to pick up anything that can be remotely called antique – old remodeled furniture, unusual silver and brassware, clocks and lamps, faded statues and paintings. It spans the length of Mutton Street and a couple of parallel lanes in the heart of South Mumbai’s bustling Mohammad Ali Road.

Classics like Mother India and Sholay loom large on the makeshift walls of the Poster Shop. “In those days, the posters were larger-than-life, just as the movies themselves,” says Abu. The best part about shopping at Abu’s is his thorough knowledge about the posters and the movies they promote. He is happy to share trivia on any movie, however obscure. The Poster Shop has both originals and copies – the former, painstakingly and lovingly painted by hand for hours and even days, a rarity in this age of instant computer graphics.

Haji Abu (91-98704-40970) counts among his regular customers collectors from all over the world – USA, Canada, UK, and of course all over India. As we talk, he proudly shows an article about him in a local newspaper and then a glossy booklet from a film exhibition in Canada where his posters were used. He rolls and packs these posters carefully in hardboard tubes so they can be carried anywhere.

Although Abu’s shop does not stock much material from English movies, A-1 Corner and Bollywood Bazaar further down the road have these on offer, all the way from The Tramp to Godfather, via James Bond. The best time to visit Chor Bazaar is on a weekday afternoon (avoid Fridays), when the streets are quieter and the vendors have more time to chat. Even though most shopkeepers speak basic English, it is best take a long a local who can bargain in true Mumbai style.

***
This was published originally in the travel blog of the New York Times a few months ago. Read Hindi Cinema, in Poster Form, at a Mumbai Shop in the NY Times.

Also read: A walk in Chor Bazaar

India’s best tea cafes

Here is something I wrote for Conde Nast Traveller a few months ago – seeing how tea is making a sudden reappearance on this blog, have posted it here…

India seems to have rediscovered its love for tea. After a spate of coffee shops in the last ten years, it is now time for tea cafés—also called tea lounges or tea bars. These cafés manage to keep the focus on tea while still pulling in coffee lovers with their food; from short eats like sandwiches and brownies to meals of salad and pasta. And unlike coffee shops which are typically patronised by the young and the restless, tea cafés attract people of all ages who seek the peace and comfort on offer. Here’s Condé Nast Traveller’s pick of the five best tea lounges across India:

Tea Centre, Mumbai

The first among equals here must be Mumbai’s Tea Centre. Everything here from the muted décor to the little bells on the table for summoning waiters spells only one thing—old world charm. As you enter through the glass door, you leave behind the heat and noise of Mumbai; inside the Tea Centre, all is cool and quiet. Go there for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just an any-time cuppa with French fries on the side, for the food here is as enticing as the tea. And be ready to be adventurous with your choice of tea: our recommendations are the apple butter tea (hot) and the orange tea (iced).

Tea Centre, Resham Bhavan, Veer Nariman Road, near Churchgate, Mumbai (+91 22 2281 9142)

Infinitea

Bengaluru with its strong coffee culture is also home to many tea cafés, Infinitea being one of the best. Located on busy Cunningham Road, this café offers over 50 varieties of tea since 2003. There are all the usual suspects like iced tea and masala chai as well as unusual ones like white tea, once the drink of the Chinese nobility or the Stupa, a tightly closed bud that blooms, infusing its flavour inside the cup of hot water. The interiors of the restaurant too reflect a passion for tea, with cheerful photographs and posters on the walls depicting different moods and ideas associated with the drink.

Infinitea, Cunningham Road, Bengaluru (+91 80 4114 8428; www.infinitea.in)

Teapot Café

Further down South is the Teapot Café in Fort Kochi, themed entirely around the beverage. Here, even the clocks tell tea time (all numerals are replaced with the letter T). The highlight of the main room is the large centre table with a tea bush six feet in diameter as the base. Most tables are made of tea chests and proudly proclaim ‘Produce of India’ while the quirky sketches on yellow walls complement the larger motif. There are also over a hundred different types of tea pots and kettles on display. Teapot Café is popular with both domestic travellers and foreigners who, along with their tea, like to tuck into some delicious Kerala aapam with stew.

Teapot Café, Peter Celli Street, Fort Kochi, Kochi (+ 91 484 221 8035)

Dolly’s Tea Shop

In the tea friendly East, Dolly’s Tea Shop in Kolkata is the place to head to, for the finest Darjeeling varieties. This place is also great for people-watching, located as it is in the middle of a popular market. This tea café is the brainchild of Dolly Roy, India’s first woman tea taster and an acknowledged connoisseur of the beverage. Dolly’s is a small place but with the relaxed atmosphere of any venerable Kolkata adda (hang-out).

Dolly’s Tea Shop, Dakshinapan Shopping Center, Gariahat Road, Kolkata (+91 33 2422 0772)

Cha Bar

Then there is Cha Bar, inside—and part of—the Oxford Book Store in various cities across India. Sip on your favourite tea—you can choose from 86 types of Indian and international teas—as you take a break from browsing through books. This café, started in 2003, is owned by the Apeejay Group, one of the world’s largest producers of tea.

Oxford Book Store is in Kolkata, Mumbai, Bengaluru, Delhi and Chennai (www.oxfordbookstore.com)

Life in the slow lane

Time moves very slowly in Provence. It is this part of the world that J.B. Priestley had in mind when he declared, “A good holiday is one that is spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours.” This is not to say that Provençals never take the concept of time seriously. Come lunch hour and all the outdoor cafés fill up rapidly with locals even before the poor tourist has finished weighing his options. The point is: take it easy when you are in Provence and savour (or cultivate) that unfamiliar feeling that you have all the time in the world. It will help you deal with the locals, bless their friendly hearts.

Even before I start writing about Provence, the editor asks me to steer clear of Peter Mayle. But it is hard to write about Provence without a mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The man has a lot to answer for, certainly for having brought the whole world rushing to once-sleepy Provence with his books on the good life of this region. They came from everywhere in coachloads to get away from it all, thereby bringing it all with them. Provence has, thankfully, survived it and—in a most un-Frenchlike manner—even made good business out of it.

Driving is the best—and perhaps the only—way to get around the region. Though guidebooks insist that there are buses, I saw none in my time there. When you are headed to Provence, don’t make that packed itinerary with a list of sightseeing options. For one, there are none; Provence itself is one large sight to see. Ignore the French Riviera in the deep south, the beaches where the rich and famous frolic (save that for a dreary winter) and instead head for the villages in the heart of this region.

Once here, zoom in on what is the prettiest part, along the Luberon mountains. Olive gardens and in season, lavender fields, hilltop villages, old churches, narrow winding roads and people who leave you to yourself for the most part. There’s the beautiful light made famous by Van Gogh, Renoir and Cézanne. And those weekly markets. It can be hard to make choices since the countryside is littered with attractive villages, all of them equally enticing. Just hire the car, pick up a map and begin your drive.

The best place to begin is Avignon by the Rhone river, a Unesco world heritage site. Avignon is technically a town but the heart of the walled city is still small enough to be explored on foot. This town became home to the Pope sometime in the fourteenth century and stayed that way for the next hundred years for succeeding popes. So, the main attraction for most visitors remains the Palais Des Papes. The large square in front of the palace is where buskers perform during season, with small souvenir stalls spread in the lanes around it. Wander around the small lanes of the town to be unfailingly surprised: I found a shop called Patchouli peddling what I can only call Indian Exotica and a quaint bookshop named after Shakespeare.

Even if you are not in Avignon on a market day, just head to Les Halles, the indoor fresh-food hall in the centre of town. Pick up some salad, cheese, bread and pasta and head to Pont D’Avignon, the broken Roman bridge over the Rhone, and have yourself a great picnic lunch by its banks.

If, like me, you grew up reading Asterix comics, you probably think the Romans spent all their time saying Ave! to Caesar and having fabulous orgies. Apparently they did a little bit more, like building picturesque (and extremely useful) bridges through the countryside. Case in point: the Pont du Gard, another world heritage spot, just over twenty-four kilometres west. This is Roman countryside, with the most famous of the remains in Arles, Nîmes and Orange.

Another day, head east towards what is classic Provence—the villages among the valleys and hills of the Vaucluse (administrative) department.

Gordes is pre-eminent among the beautiful villages of this region. And, perched on top of the Vaucluse plateau, Gordes knows this and preens prettily from its lofty height. Several movie stars and chic Parisians certainly think so and have made their homes here. The locals hold them in disdain and refuse to acknowledge these painters and potters. A large part of the village is a network of narrow alleys lined with shops on either side. Take time to explore the tenth-century château and chapel inside the village. Also visit the twelfth-century Senanque Abbey just outside Gordes. Cistercian monks still live there, producing honey and liqueurs when they’re not busy with their devotion.

From Gordes, drive northeast towards Roussillon, another must-see in the region. Roussillon means russet. And Roussillon is Provence in Technicolor, every building in one or the other shade of russet, rust, ochre, copper, auburn and salmon pink. This colour is the result of a natural pigment found in the quarries near the village. Once producing the most significant ochre deposit in the world, the quarry is now not in use and its cliffs and caves can be explored by foot. Roussillon is on the ridge of a cliff and is best seen in the evenings (so you might want to save this for the last visit of the day), as the sun begins to set and the earthy tones slowly turn golden.

Bonnieux is the next village on the circuit that I made, its great church visible from a distance even as you make your way towards it. The lower part of the village is typically Provençal, with its meandering narrow streets and arches leading into ancient buildings and seemingly secret gardens. Walk the steps leading up to the twelfth-century church, now out of use but worth the steep climb for the expansive views across the valley. The other attraction in Bonnieux is the Baker’s Museum, the Musée de la Boulangerie, a novelty even in a country where bakers reign supreme on the professional food chain.

On your way back to Avignon is Lacoste, often mentioned in the same breath as Bonnieux. Lacoste is a little village which sits looking at Bonnieux’s church on the one side and Count Marquis de Sade’s castle on the other. The castle has been bought by Pierre Cardin, who also presides over the local music and arts festival in summer.

Then there’s L’Isle sur la Sorgue. Sniff at the name, roll it slowly around your tongue and spit it out (good practice for any wine-tasting sessions you might have later). Begin your village-hopping from here the next day. It is not officially on the ‘prettiest villages’ list but the local PR machinery has made up for it by giving it the sobriquet ‘Venice of Provence’. Don’t let the cheesy name put you off. Go there and be charmed by the many canals and streams that meander all around the village.

This ‘island on the Sorgue (river)’ once had a thriving textile and paper industry, whose remains are visible in the large water wheels that line the canals. Apart from the weekly market on Sundays (one of the best and most famed in the region), the village also has over 300 permanent antique stalls. Also check at the Tourism Information Centre for current exhibitions at the Campredon Museum.

On the way to the next beautiful village lies St Rémy De Provence, pure Van Gogh country, on which more than 150 of his paintings are said to be based. Stop here if you have time or press on to Les Baux de Provence on the cliffs, which gets you back on the beautiful villages list. In the Middle Ages, the entire area was a fortress and the ruins of a castle are still to be found, with a view of the Alpilles, a limestone range across the valley. Outdoor cafés, souvenir shops, cobblestoned lanes, an old church—Les Baux ticks all the boxes.

Then again, which of the Provençal villages does not?

***
Published in the March issue of Outlook Traveller. Detailed information on travel and the local markets here…

The hills are alive

In Salzburg, there are two kinds of people; those who love the movie and those who absolutely abhor it. And oh yes, there is a third type: those who make a living from it. Like the guys at Panorama Tours with whom I am all set to take a Sound of Music tour around the city and the gorgeous Austrian countryside. All this is a bit surprising considering that Austrians themselves had no idea about The Sound of Music before America and Hollywood thrust it down their throats.

The women in the bus are excited, the men slightly embarrassed, while the couple of kids from America keep fidgeting, clueless what the fuss is all about. Then the stories begin. The first is about the lady from Australia who took this tour earlier and ended up in tears while the sound track was played towards the end. It turns out she is used to watching the movie at her home it every Saturday (in the company of a bottle of the best wine) for years now and was overcome by emotion at finally seeing where the movie was actually shot. I have no such emotion but like others in the bus, I have fond memories of watching the movie as a child, and enjoying it just as much when I watch it again as an adult.

The play and then the film Sound of Music actually took a lot of liberties with the real story of Maria Von Trapp and her family. In real life, when the Von Trapps escaped the Nazi rule in Salzburg, they took a hike to the nearest train station and went to Italy. The last scenes of the film shows them getting into Switzerland, a five hour drive away; this was shot near Berchtesgaden, Germany, very close to Hitler’s Eagles Nest, so imagine the Von Trapps heading there. All this is told to me by Vincent, my tourist guide for the day, who dearly loves his mike and keeps his busload entertained through the morning.

And so he continues. Edelweiss, bless my homeland forever is not a popular Austrian folk tune (as the movie would have you believe) but was composed for Broadway by Rodgers and Hammerstein, the last project the duo worked on together before Hammerstein died. If anything, Edelweiss today is a popular Austrian beer. Young men wooing were once required to climb up the Alps to bring their love the Edelweiss flower; today they take with them a crate of chilled beer!

Through all these interesting disclosures, we are traveling through serious Sound of Music country, beginning with the Leopoldskorn Lake with the palace at the side, where scenes of the movie showing the terrace of the Captain’s home were shot. The most interesting story is however, at our next stop, at the gazebo at Hellbrunn palace. It is here that Liesl, Captain Von Trapp’s oldest daughter was on 16, going on 17, with her boyfriend, the Nazi sympathizer Rolf, a year older. The gazebo is now closed to the public, ever since, says Vincent, an 85 year-old tourist (obviously going on 17) broke her hip trying to jump from seat to seat in the manner of young Liesl.

The highlight of the tour is the drive through the Salzkammergut (Lake District) with stunning views of the Austrian countryside so well captured in the opening scenes of movie. There is a mandatory stop at Mondsee to take in the cathedral where the grand wedding scene between the Captain and Maria was shot.

On the way back to Salzburg, the sound track from the movie is played in the bus (for once, Vincent is silent) and people begin to sing along, hesitantly at first and then lustily joining in. The Sound of Music works its smooth magic, or perhaps the magic is that of the countryside but grown men in the bus begin to hum along with “these are a few of my favourite things!” And I complete this pilgrimage the next morning with a visit to the Mirabell Gardens, which I am told, also played a prominent role in the movie.

Salzburg’s other claim to fame is that of being Mozart’s birthplace. And the city does not let you forget that. There is the Mozart GeburtsHaus (where he was born), his WohnHaus (where he lived) and assorted touristy memorabilia (in less kind words, called kitsch) all the way from chocolates to pen holders and fridge magnets with his name and face on them. And of course, there are those on the main streets dressed in what they think of as Mozart costume peddling cheap tickets for classical concerts (friendly word of warning: stay away from these).

All that said, Salzburg is a city capable of charming any visitor, even without the loud signs everywhere that scream of these past glories. It is known to be one of the oldest cultural centers in what is present day Austria and is now the fourth largest city here. The Aldstadt (old state – or the city center) is known for its well-preserved Baroque architecture. The city itself was established as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997.

It is today a young city, its restaurants and bars buzzing in the spring air late, late into the night. The Salzach River runs through it, the bridges over it and the lanes by the side now used as spots for locals and tourists to meet and chat and watch the world pass by. On narrow Getreidegasse, the main shopping lane in Salzburg, everything is strictly old world; even the signboard for McDonalds is a graceful arch in metal and muted colours, in keeping with the tone of the area. I spend several hours here, exploring the hundreds of shops and boutiques tucked into its narrow arched by-lanes.

One evening, I trek up to the HohenSalzburg fortress that casts a watchful eye on the city at all times. The sun is setting in the distance casting golden shadows on the Salzach and the city skyline is impressive and mellow in this light. Far down, at Kapitelplatz, I can see people, little ants slowly making their way through the street stalls. The giant chessboard painted on the ground is also active, the giant pieces seeming to move of their own accord.

That instant, I can hear echoes of the sound of music from far far away.

***
Published in the South China Morning Post, March 11, 2012

Shortcut to Salvation

In Varanasi, also known as Kashi, the city of light, it is always about the celebration of life, even in the midst of death…

“Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together”. That is how Mark Twain expressed his emotion towards the city that, in the midst of all the so-called progress and development, still manages to look old and venerable.

It is just after sunrise and I am on a boat with a few friends, gently cruising down the Ganga. Women, their colourful saris tightly wound around themselves, step unsurely into the water and offer their prayers, facing eastwards. The men are more adventurous; a few of them even manage to swim a few feet into the river, as they mirror the actions and rituals of their wives and mothers. A few of them are holding wailing babies and sleepy children, trying to get them to take a quick dip into the water that, they are sure, will cleanse them of all sins for a lifetime to come. I may still be bleary-eyed but Varanasi, or more correctly, the stretch by the river, has been alive for a couple of hours already. For what is Varanasi, if not for the Ganga, the cleanser of all sins and the soother of all consciences?

Varanasi is believed to be one of the world’s oldest living cities, finding a mention in the country’s much-loved epic, the Mahabharata. It derives its name from the confluence of the Varana and the Assi rivers (both now dry and almost disappeared). In fact, legend has it that it was created by the God Shiva himself, making it one of the most important pilgrimage sites for Hindus. Benaras, as Twain referred to it, is the Anglicized name, while most Indians prefer to call it Kashi, the city of light.

I get off the boat at Kedar ghat, among the largest and most active of the almost hundred ghats (fleet of steps leading to the river) to take in the buzz. As I sit, a teenage girl unfurls her large umbrella and sets up her wares for the day; milk (diluted, no doubt) to be offered to the God inside the tiny temple at the top of the steps. The heavyweights offering quick and light massages are also spreading their blankets on secluded areas by the steps and are ready for business.

A Brahmin priest approaches me, suggesting that I offer him some money so he can pray for my wellbeing. As I smile and refuse, he banters with me, “You can earn a lot of punya (let’s call them spiritual brownie points) for a little money.” He does not spend too much time on me though since there are others willing and waiting for his – and the greater God’s he prays to – blessings. People come to Varanasi to perform the last rites of their loved ones since Hindus believe that being cremated here and having the ashes scattered into the Ganga ensures a peaceful journey into the afterlife. However, there is nothing sad or sacred about these rituals as both the family and the priests go about the normal business of life even in the presence of death. They bargain, they buy, they eat and they sleep just as they would anywhere else.

I then head to Tulsi ghat downriver to the akhada, the local gymnasium that is part of the throbbing canvas of Varanasi. The young men hard at work by the time I walk into the akhada, some with their dumbbells, indigenous clubs and weights and balancing bars and some of them wrestling in the mud, guided by their teacher in his late sixties who looks fitter than any of the youngsters. There are also a few interested onlookers; the young men carry on paying scant attention to the clicking cameras. A few others taking a break between their workouts decide to pose, flexing their muscles and wiping the mud from their tired and sweaty faces.

Back much later at Kedar ghat, I find that by then, the backpacking tourists have arrived, armed with their cameras and curiousity. They are here, just like the locals, in their own personal search for nirvana.

***
Published in the January issue of Morning Calm, the inflight magazine of Korean Air. Read the rest of the story on Varanasi here…

And more photographs from Varanasi here…

Camels, colour and a million gods

The scene at Pushkar is everything I expect from a mela. Not surprising, considering that like many of my generation, urban born and bred, my idea of a mela has been shaped by innumerable Hindi films where young hapless children are forever being separated from their mothers and siblings. Sure enough, the loudspeakers blare out names of such children, requesting their parents to rush to the main office to reclaim them.

The loudspeakers announce other things too. “Sabse Saandar So!”—the most splendid show, claims the man advertising the circus. There is Bhojpuri and Rajasthani music, the women in the videos gyrating in an impossible manner. Someone else is calling out to people to see—and shell out money for—the Amazing Computer that tells your fortune; the digital version of nadijosiyam (astrology) which has come all the way from Thanjavur in south India. Above all this din, children manage to make themselves heard as they clamour for rides on the Ferris Wheel.

My favourite, though, is the one that promises, in a not particularly devout manner, “Barah mahine me barah tarike se tujhse bhakti jataunga re” (In 12 months I’ll find 12 ways to show you my devotion).

Even God goes Dhink Chaka Dhink Chaka in Pushkar at this time.

For most of the year, it is a sleepy town that backpackers have just begun to discover. Then in November, the mela arrives, turning it into a party zone and, for an all-vegetarian temple town, Pushkar parties hard. All the action is centred on the large open ground where camel herders from all over the state gather to trade (over 12,000 camels this year, says one of them).

The fair, which usually takes place in late October—early November, ends on the day of Kartik Poornima, when it is believed that all the millions of gods and goddesses descend to bathe in the sacred lake in the centre of the town. What began as a religious festival grew into a camel trading fair and is now one of the largest attractions Rajasthan has to offer eager visitors, locals and foreigners alike.

Now, apart from the trading of camels, there are plenty of events on the periphery: a hot air balloon show twice a day, competitions like turban-tying (for foreigners) and longest moustache (for locals) and of course, the noisy mela itself just outside the trading ground.

In 1940, I read somewhere, the most expensive camel went for `77. In 2011, the price went all the way up to `5 lakh for a good camel. And far, far more expensive are the horses; there are whispers of amounts like `2 crore around a gorgeous all-white one standing tall and proud, just like his owner. As the sun begins to set, the hot air balloons floating above the grounds begin their slow descent and cooking fires spring up in front of the tents where the traders stay for the duration of the fair. The women pull the ghunghat of their saris closer against the evening chill as they flatten out rough chapatis on the braziers, while the men in bright yellow and orange turbans begin to light up their chillum, discussing the day’s trade.

Normally — other than these eight days — life in Pushkar revolves around the lake (known as the sarovar), surrounded by 52 ghats. The hour prior to sunrise sees a flurry of activity as pilgrims take a dip in the sarovar, before heading to the 14th century Brahma temple, one of the few that are dedicated to the god of creation in India. In the lanes by the temple and the ghats, well-worn clichés come to life: the old meeting the new, and the sacred the profane.

For instance, amid the stalls selling piping hot kachoris and malpua that melts in the mouth are small cafes with names like Out of the Blue and Honey Dew, the latter serving coffee procured all the way from Colombia. And it is in the lanes that the real Pushkar shows its face; a place where pilgrims and backpackers flock to, each in search of his own personal nirvana.

***
Mu photostory on Pushkar published in the December issue of Fountain Ink.

My travel column in FirstPost

I know I have been missing in action on this blog for a while now. I have been traveling loads and been so busy writing for a living (isn’t that great?!) that I have not had the time and energy to blog. Promise to rectify that soon.

For now, head to FirstPost and read my travel column – Wanderlust – it appears twice a month, so watch out for it. Also, please please share with me your ideas and suggestions for the column – interesting travel destinations, trends, websites. Thanks much in anticipation!

From my latest Wanderlust column on the beautiful city of Madurai –

Malayadhwaja Pandiya must have been a sad king. Fate had played a cruel trick on him. After years of being childless and spending days and nights in prayer, and pouring countless kilos of pure ghee in the sacrificial fire, he had been blessed with a daughter. Alas! A daughter who was a freak; she was born with three breasts. Just as the royal couple was torn between joy and despair, a voice from the heavens informed them that her abnormality would disappear as soon as she met her consort. The girl Meenakshi — the fish-eyed one — grew up into a beautiful princess who was finally won over by Lord Shiva and married him.

Read on…