Latest news with #Delhiwale
Hindustan Times
30-06-2025
- Climate
- Hindustan Times
Delhiwale: Rain falling over the citizens
Monsoon rains have always been a dependable muse for artists. But for us Delhiwale, the actual lived experience of the season tends to be more complicated, especially in the landscape of our everyday life. The inconvenient puddles on way to the office, the sudden floods in the colony, the threat of mosquitoes (dengue!) at home, the snake sightings in the friendly park… the extra spendings from the hard-earned cash—take e-rickshaw driver Mushtaq. As the first monsoon showers raided the capital on Sunday, he was obliged to shell out hundred rupees to buy himself a plastic raincoat. So did many of his fellow drivers, here in Old Delhi. And while only a few hours have passed since the new acquisition, the raincoat is already showing wear and tear. Mushtaq hopes that it might last for ten more days, after which he will again have to spend hundred rupees more in buying another waterproof shield. This evening, despite the pouring rain, the friendly gent is sporty enough to pose for a portrait—see photo. Here are two places in which to experience the Delhi monsoon in a less discomforting manner. Both destinations are at two far ends of the megapolis, though united by a common element (figure out that commonality yourself!). While only a few hours have passed since the new acquisition, Mushtaq's raincoat is already showing wear and tear. (HT) Stroll into the pedestrian bridge of Sector 53-54 station of Gurugram's Rapid Metro line. It overlooks the posh Golf Course Road lined with high-rises on both sides. Certain atmospheric conditions are needed to experience the magical potential of the setting. To start with, it has to be the evening time, just when the sun has gone but the light has not. And it should have stopped raining only a few minutes back. The rain clouds must still be blanketing the sky, but they ought to have split up in random places to reveal pools of evening light. When all these conditions are present, the sky, including the translucent clouds, are seen sheeted in sublime shades of pink. The sight then resembles a thing worthy enough to be a Louvre museum art exhibit. Head to the British-era red brick railway bridge over the Hindon river in zila Ghaziabad. It is among the most scenic railway bridges in the region. The bridge's six arches elegantly span the width of the river. During a heavy monsoon shower, the river flows with as much gusto as a mountain stream. The persistent rain ploughing into the river-water produces a mind-blowing sound, as if rice grains were falling from a great hight. This sound majestically echoes off the walls of the rail bridge arches. When a passing train clatters over the bridge, the rain-drenched scene looks surreal; the train almost an apparition, the rain beating against its shut windows. Lest we forget, the other side of the river has a cremation ghat; the occasional funeral pyre safely sheltered from the rain, being under a tin shed.
Hindustan Times
25-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Delhiwale: Hauz Khas Jagannath
The artist arrived in our city from his native Odisha early this month. Since then, Gopal Mopalo has been applying a shiny coat of colours to scores of sacred idols, sculptures and illustrations that grace the beautiful Sree Jagannath Mandir in Hauz Khas. This humid afternoon, he is concentrating on the figure of a lion—see photo. The venerable man is extremely polite, not showing irritation on being interrupted from his immersive work. He hails from a 'heritage village' in distant Odisha, and was summoned to help prepare the temple for the festival of Rath Yatra, due tomorrow. Gopal Mopalo has been applying a shining coat of colours to scores of sacred idols, sculptures and illustrations that grace the beautiful Sree Jagannath Mandir in Hauz Khas. (HT) Overlooking the Hauz Khas village road, the all-white temple has its sanctum sanctorum enshrined with a black-faced idol of Bhagwan Jagannath, the 'Swami of the Sansar.' An avatar of Vishnu, Bhagwan Jagannath is depicted with brother Balbhadra, and their sister Subhadra. The temple in Hauz Khas draws citizens from across the capital, including a large number of Odia-speaking Delhiwale. This isn't surprising, for the most important shrine to Bhagwan Jagannath lies in Odisha's Puri. That coastal town has traditionally been the site of an annual Rath Yatra festival in which the three aforementioned deities of Puri's great Jagannath Mandir are seated in chariots that move through massive crowds of hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. The procession was historically believed to develop a kinetic energy of such extreme magnitude that, once in motion, it appeared unstoppable, no matter what might happen on the way. The English word juggernaut originated, in 1638, from this phenomenon in Puri. This Friday, parallel to Puri's iconic Rath Yatra, hundreds of thousands of Jagannath temples all over the world will host their own rath yatras—Hauz Khas temple shall mark its 47th. It will be the busiest day in the temple's annual calendar. The serving of 'bhandara' food to pilgrims will begin by noon. The holy meal shall comprise of meethi peeli khichdi, arhar dal and suji halwa. At around 2.30pm, the temple's stately sal wood chariot, the rath, will be launched into its symbolic journey. Pilgrims will take turns to draw forward the hefty carriage. Two thick strong ropes will be positioned towards the front of the chariot. An additional rope will be knotted to the rear, so that the people behind the rath can control the pace of its progression. The chariot will wade through the traffic-heavy Aurobindo Marg, turning back near the AIIMS flyover. This moment, the rath is parked outside the temple. Sheathed under a rain-proof cover, it too is receiving last-minute touches. The complete festivities will last until July 8. The day after the festival, Sree Jagannath Mandir will slowly return to its silent serenity. The temple's towering shikhara shall again be a place of rest for Hauz Khas pigeons.
Hindustan Times
17-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Dublinwale: A tale of two readers
This is the story of two Dubliners. One is a professor, the other is an engineer. One is a former New Yorker, the other is an Irish native. Both share a passion for the same novel. James Joyce's Ulysses is contained into a single day, 16 June, and that date is celebrated worldwide as Bloomsday, named after the novel's hero—Mr. Bloom. To celebrate the city novel, this reporter is in Dublin for Bloomsday 2025, and the Delhiwale column briefly becomes Dublinwale. Sam Slote is among the world's most renowned Joyceans. He is a Professor in the School of English at Trinity College Dublin. His book Annotations to James Joyce's Ulysses is the most authoritative guide to understand the notoriously difficult novel. The wall-sized book rack in his office is crammed with the different translations of Ulysses, including Dutch, German, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Persian, Arabic, and Malayalam. John O'Connell is an electrical engineer working in Telecom, but also conducts walking tours to Joyce's Dublin. A volunteer at the James Joyce Tower and Museum, he often dresses up as Mr Bloom, complete with a hat and a fake moustache. He believes that Ulysses is Dublin's very own Sistine Chapel. This afternoon, Sam Slote is sitting in his office, working on his annotated book's next edition. More particularly, he is busy with some specific question of punctuation in episode 17. His tone is gracious and delves deeply—yet effortlessly—into the intricacies of the novel. This sort of precision and care for detail is essential to a scholar of Ulysses, where everything is likely to carry narrative and symbolic weight. This afternoon, John O'Connell is crossing the Grattan Bridge over the Liffey, leading a walking tour. In the Dublin rain, he's excitedly pointing at a building in front of which a minor character makes a fleeting appearance. This sort of precision and care for detail is essential to a guide of Ulysses, where every street corner possibly has a role to play. Sam Slote says that he read Joyce's final novel, Finnegans Wake, before the Ulysses. This is surprising because the world is full of Joyce fanatics who adore Ulysses and have read it many times, but just couldn't climb the heights of Finnegans, considered a super-difficult book. John O'Connell says that when he first read Ulysses, 'I didn't really get it then, but I knew there was a genius driving the bus.' On finishing the dreaded Finnegans Wake, he announced his accomplishment in an office meeting. The colleagues, he recalls, looked bemused. For his everyday use, Sam Slote carries a 1986 Gabler hardbound edition of Ulysses, published by Bodley Head, bearing a grey cover. For his everyday use, John O'Connell carries a 2000 hardbound reprinting of the 1986 Gabler edition of Ulysses, published by Bodley Head, bearing a green cover.
Hindustan Times
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Delhiwale: Bloomsday mubarak
Good morning, 16 June! Today is the day to visit a rarely-visited Delhi monument. It stands in Daryaganj, but lies hidden behind the remains of the mostly vanished Walled City wall. Built as a defensive fortification by the British following our first war of independence, it is called Martello Tower. Similar towers were built across Ireland, another former British colony. Twenty of them are still standing in the capital, Dublin. One of these towers frames the opening scene of what is universally acknowledged to be the world's pioneering modernist novel. James Joyce's Ulysses is set in Dublin and unfolds within a single day—16 June. The date is celebrated worldwide as Bloomsday, named after the novel's hero, Mr Bloom. This reporter is in Dublin for Bloomsday 2025, and the Delhiwale column is briefly becoming Dublinwale. In Delhi, the Martello Tower is in ruins. The little stone bridge leading to it is broken. You can leap over the gap, but risk falling into the smelly drain below. The ground-floor is like a mandir to Joyce. Glass cases contain original souvenirs of his daily life: wallet, cigar case, suitcase… and Joyce's last cane. There's also a first edition of Ulysses, published in 1922–antiquary dealers rate its worth in tens of thousands of dollars. Deeper within, a set of 'dark winding stairs' go to the top of the tower. This is the spot where the great novel begins. Some readers become senti on stepping here. Others are taken in by the view—waves of the Irish Sea crashing on the pointy rocks. This afternoon, citizen-volunteer Rob Goodbody is manning the top, holding a hardbound of Ulysses and wearing the same kind of beret hat James Joyce is wearing in a famous photo taken in his early 20s. Mr Goodbody turns to the novel's sixteenth episode, and reads aloud a passage that mentions his great-grandfather. He then pivots to the seaward side and gazes towards the Dublin Bay, from where a strong breeze blows on to the tower.
Irish Times
15-06-2025
- Irish Times
Bloomsday: From Delhi to Dublin
Seen the Martello. Got the soap from Sweny's. Yay, I'm in Dublin! Gradually ticking things off the list. Thalatta! Thalatta! Next on the agenda—throwing pieces of Banbury cakes to the Liffey gulls. Friendly greetings from a Joycean pilgrim. My dream of celebrating Bloomsday in Bloom's city is just about to happen. After voyaging 5,000 miles over Asia and Europe (no Scylla or Charybdis—just airplane snacks), I landed two days ago. Switched the masala English for the Irish sing-song. Such happiness to be here. I'm a city writer and photographer, and for the past 20 years I've been compulsively documenting and narrating life in Delhi, the city where I happen to live. It could have been Paris. It could have been Kampala. It is the Indian capital. My blog is called 'The Delhi Walla.' Since 2017, I also write a daily column for the Hindustan Times, India's leading English-language newspaper. The column is called 'Delhiwale'—in Hindi, this is the equivalent for Delhi of 'Dubliners.' Twenty times larger than Dublin, Delhi has 20 million Delhiwale—compared to 1.5 million Dubliners. At one point in Ulysses, the everyman hero Leopold Bloom observes that it would be a good puzzle to cross Dublin without passing a single pub. READ MORE A good puzzle would also be to cross Delhi without passing a single chai stall. And sometimes, while strolling the congested streets of the historic walled city, I have to admit I confuse the two cities. But you must understand—the chatter and curses are the same! The crowds of men. The tobacco smoke. The 'applause and hisses' of Barney Kiernan's find their exact twins in Old Delhi's hyperlocal Kale Tea Stall, Irfan's tea stall, Babban's tea stall, Ashok's tea stall, and Rani's tea stall. But what's a city—any city. Men walking the streets, their pockets full of crumbs and their heads full of thoughts? Yes, I've seen them in Delhi, in the narrow alleys of Old Delhi and on the posh paves of south Delhi neighbourhoods. Crowds following coffins? I've spotted them too, many a time down my place in Chitli Qabar. While Bloom sat in churches to observe and reflect, I sat in Sufi shrines and did the same. I've met lots of Blooms, actually, and I've met Mollys too, waiting at home in seeming stillness, but who know more and who say yes. Once, I met a Stephen Dedalus; his name is Vishal Nagraj. Gaunt figure, wispy beard, a hat on his head. Always in a jacket, even during Delhi's unbearable heatwaves. He sells used books for a living. With him, casual chitchat is not an option. His conversations are peppered with quotes from Nietzsche and Kafka. My first reading of Ulysses happened in 2021, a few months after the horrific second wave of Covid that swept through India and took millions of lives. The streets, bereaved and more silent than usual, made room for the novel's voices and crowds. At first, I was seriously bogged down by all the unfamiliar references. Who's Parnell? And what's an Orange Lodge? What's more, the language was far from being as straightforward and polite as that of Jane Austen, one of my early loves in Western literature and the author from whom I borrowed my middle name. On certain days, while trying to find my bookmark to resume my reading, I would wonder if picking up where I left off made any difference at all amid all that gibberish, and if resuming from a random page wouldn't be just as sensible. 'Don't bother,' I would tell my bookmark with a sigh, 'any page will do.' But something in the book made me insist and toil on. What was it? I'm not sure. I learnt to treat each sentence as a miniature monument, meant to be experienced individually. I started living with the novel and gradually acclimatised to the high altitudes of its prose. I still couldn't understand much, but for some time at least, coursing through the words was enough. My blood was wooed by grace of language, as Joyce would have put it—the Stephen way. Today, Ulysses has become my walking companion. Book in hand, wearing my imaginary Latin Quarter hat, I head to, let's say, Delhi's Connaught Place—where citizens from across classes unhesitatingly gather together, strolling along the white colonial-era colonnades. With the novel's help, I try to understand my city better and to become a better writer. For Ulysses maps out a most panoramic and most microscopic evocation of city life, accurately capturing what is public and what is private. One sentence, in particular, keeps sharpening my writerly gaze: 'And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and when.' A few weeks after finishing the novel for the first time, I remember being thrilled to discover a place in Delhi that directly connects it to Ulysses. It actually frames the novel's opening—this is the Martello Tower. Indeed, Delhi and Dublin share this same relic born of a common misfortune: both lands were colonised by the British, who built Martello Towers across their empire. In Dublin, they did so to ward off the Napoleonic forces. In Delhi, the tower was built in the years following the crushing of the 1857 Uprising, India's first war of independence. Truth be told, Delhi's Martello is nothing like Dublin's. It is in ruins. The little stone bridge leading to it is broken. You can leap over the gap, but risk falling into the smelly drain below. Nobody visits the place, not even on Bloomsday. But I am here now. And this Bloomsday 2025, I'll make a pilgrimage to the Martello Tower of Dublin, and do something that isn't possible from its eastern twin in landlocked Delhi. I'll climb the dark, winding stairs, and on reaching the top, I'll walk over to the parapet, rest my elbow on the jagged granite, and gaze out over Dublin bay. (The author of this piece writes the popular daily column Delhiwale for Hindustan Times, India's leading newspaper.)
