Kheer Khao

Published in The Times of India, October 5, 2007

Bade Miya’s Kheer Shop, Lal Kuan, Opp. Hauz Qazi Police Station, Near Chawri Bazaar Metro Station

It is Ramazaan time, that time of the year when Puraani Dilli’s bylanes come alive at night and innumerable eateries welcome the night revellers. You need not search the place too fervently; just let your nose do the spice sniffing and let aroma be your guiding spirit. And after all the spicy, sumptuous food, round it off with kheer at Bade Miya’s. Its proximity to the Metro station ensures that people from all over Delhi throng this standalone sweet shop, standing proud in the middle of a wholesale hardware market. This unique eatery has been selling kheer—yes, just kheer—for over 100 years! For the uninitiated, kheer is a dessert made by cooking milk, rice, sugar and varying additives like cardamom, saffron and almonds. It is a staple dessert in many parts of India. Miya soaks the rice overnight and then cooks it with milk, sugar and dry fruit to give it an unmatched taste. While cooking, the entire mixture is ground so thoroughly and so finely that you can’t distinguish the different ingredients. The result—a smooth, richly textured, sinfully a delicious treat for all those with sweet teeth!
Price: Rs 12 per 100 gm Timings: 10 am–11 pm

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Delhi After Dusk

Published in The Times of India, July 6, 2007

Delhi’s nightlife can race from the dizzying highs of a sweaty, spirited session on the dance floor to the earthy and sumptuous after-hours meal at the dhaba… Game?

AMIN ALI

I have some friends who are night birds—they go home when the sun is just about warming up. Well, they are nocturnal. Me, I have started loving the moon and starts too i.e whatever polluted city sky allows us to see of them.
And turning nocturnal helps you visit all the interesting places that stay open in Delhi when others have downed their shutters—fine places where you can sip on tea laced with ginger and cardamom, nondescript joints where you can gobble up sinfully rich paranthas, patisseries where the pastry layers are so fine that they crumble before you blink… Temptation enough for anyone to take a night out and tag along with the friends...

11 pm Off We Go


The nightclub Capitol at Hotel Ashok was packed. ‘Don’ night was going on—in the dimly-lit room, most men were dressed like Shah Rukh Khan and lit one cigarette after another to smoke like the King. The women preferred their wine and champagne; their ensembles in red, lilac, pink, even white, were bright spots in a dark night.
There was great music, there were some awesome dancers, burning the floor. But what’s a night out without great grub? My wobbly knees too needed rest but a five-star coffee shop can be quite a dampener in terms of pricing. My belly needed more than beer…

2 am Damn Hungry


Stepping out, Comesum café at Nizamuddin railway station was the unanimous choice. It was abuzz with post-party revellers. Resembling a five-star coffee shop, it is eye-catchingly clean. It is well lit, well guarded and quite safe, at any time of day or night. The alfresco seating makes it the perfect spot for dinner with an exhaustive menu—Mughlai, Chinese, South Indian... Girls always want their fat-free options, and Comesum had answers to everything. The food was a real feast—hot, buttery chapatis with aromatic dal along with smoking tandoori chicken… aah, just right.

4 am Tea Time


The girls were gone and we decided to have tea. We knew where to look—the tea stall next to Shivaji stadium. On the way, we crossed India Gate, which looked simply stunning, all lit up. The tea stall was brimming with people. But wait! It is not only about tea. Here you would know thousand and one ways to customise a parantha— potatoonion mix, cheese-chilli mix, egg-sugar mix, radish-carrot mix… whatever you ask. The cars lining the road bore testimony to the popularity of the place. The tea was laced with cardamom and its sinful aroma wafted in the air.

6 am Breakfast For Home


And then the phone rings; my sister wants me to get something. Not paranthas, though. I knew where to get her the breakfast she wanted—Panditji’s opposite Town Hall in Chandni Chowk. A refrigerator sponsored by a soft drink giant is perhaps the only new addition in this old but popular eatery. Breakfast begins after 5 am—roasted bread with dollops of butter, scrumptious coconut cookies... We had split and were having fun at various locations— one sipping tea under the Moolchand flyover, another gorging on a four-egg omelette in a roadside shack in Gurgaon.

7 am Home!


It was a long night and back home I was greeted by a happy sister who loved the buttered toast and biscuits. As a thank you gesture she closed the gates gently. I slipped into bed. It had been an eventful Saturday night, and I had attended more than one party, been to more than one kiosk. Delhi’s nightlife would be so drab without these. That night, it was more than food—I bumped into an old friend at the pub, another at the tea stall...And they say they want to put an end to streetsy fun. Where would I go for my next night-out then? Let me get up and take them on. Till then... zzz!

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On A Wing And A Prayer

Published in The Times of India, March 16, 2007

A little birdy told us that there’s a safe haven for all winged denizens, right in the heart of the city—the Charity Bird Hospital

AMIN ALI


Chandni Chowk is full of interesting places. One just needs an eye to spot them. Now who could imagine a fully functional, three-storeyed bird hospital in the heart of the city?
As you cross the Red Fort, the ancient Jain temple across the road is just any other heritage building to marvel at. But do you know that it houses the Charity Bird Hospital? And has done so for 77 years!
Take off your shoes, enter the temple and the world changes. From the maddening din on the streets to the silence in the temple, occasionally punctured by pigeons or peacocks. Follow your ear and be led towards the sounds that can be music to the ears. We did too, taking the stairs up to the bird hospital.

FEATHER IN THE CAP

The reception, which doubles as an OPD or outpatient department, is a small room with two tables, one for the superintendent, one for the vet. Mr Pankaj Jain, the superintendent, welcomed us warmly and explained the hospital’s history. He also listed various eminent personalities whose active involvement has ensured that the place has survived for so long without having to charge its feathered patients.
The vet, Dr Vijay Kumar, is available from 8 am to 4 pm everyday. In his stint at the hospital, he has even nursed some birds that were injured so badly that their bones were visible through their plumage.
My mind was constantly attracted by the bird’s voices coming from the ward. The first cabin—not cage—had pigeons recovering either from fractures or the common cold. For most of us, pigeons may be just another wild species, sort of grey, but in the hospital I realised that they too come in all colours.
Some had bandaged wings—not a pretty sight—but it was nice to know that someone cared for them. And cared well. The birds are given a substantial diet of sorghum, millet and corn. Fans and exhausts have been encased in metal grills to prevent birds from injuring themselves if they happen to fly to close to these. Fountains in the rooms function in the summer to keep the place cool.

WIND BENEATH THE WINGS

“The word ‘cabin’ differentiates us from zoos,” says Pankaj. He adds that birds are treated free of cost and released when they have fully recovered! They don’t intend to hold the birds captive.
The next cabin had two peacocks with fractured legs. They had been recuperating there for some months, enjoying meals full of fruits. They will be released in Shanti Van forest. In the next enclosure was a special species of pigeons, popular as Laqa. These birds have a smaller wingspan than other pigeons and cannot fly higher altitudes or longer distances. So, they are usually domesticated. Across these, in larger cabins, are smaller ‘personal rooms’ for recently admitted birds. The munias looked ill, not at all their usual chirpy selves.
A little red bird had a massive white bandage around its neck, to help heal wounds caused by sharp kite thread. Several birds were pecking away at the fruit salad trays. At any given time, the hospital has close to 2,500 birds under treatment.

FEELING CHIRPIER

With so many birds around, there was bound to be a whole lot of chirping but I wanted to know where the loudest of it was coming from, if all the birds were unwell… I was informed that the third floor had a general ward, for birds that had more or less recovered to rest and recuperate.
We reached the third floor, indeed quite abuzz with activity. If ever there were a better example of a before/after ad campaign, this was it. The birds looked in the pink of health, fluttering about in their spacious enclosures. Garrulous parrots, pigeons, sparrows mingled and made music. To think that these birds had come to the hospital in various stages of sickness and injury, some near death, silent and very subdued… When they recover, the birds are released in a group to cushion the shock of exiting the hospital’s protected environment and having to fend for themselves in the open.
In 2006 alone, the hospital cured over 25,000 birds, giving them a new lease of life… and wind beneath their wings.

FACT FILE

The Charity Bird Hospital was established in 1929 by the late Lachhumal Jain Gotewale. It is situated in the Digambar Jain temple complex, opposite Red Fort. A charity institute, it treats birds free of cost. Visitors can contribute in cash or kind (bird food, medicines, fans, etc.) The hospital admits injured birds 24/7. When they recover, they are released, not returned to whoever brought them in. Those who wish to get pet birds treated can take them back. The OPD timings are 10 am till noon, daily. Carnivorous birds like owls, eagles and kites are given first aid and handed over to the bird hospital in Defence Colony.

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Central Perk

Published in The Times of India, March 09, 2007

Been mourning the loss of CP’s Central Park to Delhi Metro? Well, it’s time to perk up. The green lung is back in action, and how

AMIN ALI

For the past five years, Delhites lamented the loss of Central Park, grieved its takeover by the Delhi Metro Rail Corporation, mourned because after a shopping spree in CP, there was no place to rest, no statuesque Ashoka trees to relax under, no gurgling fountains to admire… Had Central Park vanished forever from the heart of Delhi?
Memories of those lazy afternoons and swaying trees faded behind the metal sheets bearing ominous signs: ‘Delhi Metro’ and ‘Under Construction’. Some hoped that the promise of a park makeover would come true; others peeped through construction paraphernalia for a preview; yet others waited.

NATURAL MAKEOVER

I waited too. And when the park was recently opened to the public, I decided to spend a not-so-crowded evening there. As I stepped in, the first thing that caught my eye was the lush green grass covering every spot in the 27,000 sq m expanse. I looked at my shoes, wondering if they would hurt the grass or blotch its beauty. I thought of the men and machines that keep the lawn immaculately manicured and immediately hopped on to the red pathway skirting the grass.
I walked a bit with the crowd that seemed to be enjoying the evening out. I looked at the trees that would soon flower and spread their fragrance in a city tired of the odour of smoke and gas emissions. I couldn’t count all the trees, nor identify them all but I was told 500 new ones have been planted with nearly 1,000 shrubs to complement them. I heard the fountains gurgle. I was told there are 21. And then there’s the water cascade that adds to the renewed allure of the park.

MUSIC AND LYRICS

Fountains and flowers aren’t unusual in a park, but an amphitheatre? Curious, I walked towards it. From a distance, I could see an arcshaped amphitheatre, appearing to float over the greenery. Spread over 60 sq m, the theatre has seven steps, each capable of seating 50. As it got dusky, I sat on one of the steps. As I wondered about life and new beginnings, I heard denly felt worry-less and wanted to break into a jig; there are no charges for performing in the amphitheatre! Who knows when someone might get into the mood for an impromptu flute recital or a melodious alaap?

LIGHT OF MY LIFE

Darkness set in but nobody was in a rush to leave. So well-illuminated is the park with fluorescent bulbs, looking quite elegant on dark poles, whispers—an elderly couple lamenting the loss of values in society; young students worried about their physics examination. I sudthat you feel very safe. You needn’t worry about load-shedding either—there’s power back-up!
I stay put in the amphitheatre, looking at CP across the road. To feel the market’s hustle-bustle while sitting in a serene spot is an experience no other place can offer. I knew I would spend many more evenings in Central Park. All perked up!

FACT FILE

WHERE IT IS: In the inner circle of Rajiv Chowk (Connaught Place)
HOW TO REACH: Well connected by all Metro routes, Rajiv Chowk being a central station
WHEN TO GO: Ideally, go in the evening when you may catch a music show or play in the amphitheatre; entry free

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On A State Visit

Published in The Times of India, January 5, 2007
How often have you admired the crowning glory of Lutyens’ Delhi from afar? Now get in and check out all that Rashtrapati Bhavan has to offer…

AMIN ALI

There’s more. Away from the glittering malls of India Shining. Beyond the ageold palaces and battlements. There’s more to Delhi. In fact, it’s right in the heart of the city. The Rashtrapati Bhavan, far from being formidable and inaccessible, is actually an explorer’s ecstasy.

SECURITY CHECK

It’s no less than a modern-day palace. And I was made keenly aware of it right at the entrance. All my personal details were checked and verified. All my personal belongings were, of course, secured. As I handed over cellphone, camera, briefcase, the security officer nodded. I was allowed through and waited for a guide to take me on a tour of Rashtrapati Bhavan. Guide! Tour! I started to get nervous. I’ve never been to such a heavily guarded fortress. A man in a natty black suit was to be my guide. This was slightly embarrassing. Seemed I was not dressed for
the occasion, what with my tee and jeans. Even as I pondered on the option of running away, my dapper guide signalled. I followed him.

MARBLE MUSEUM

There came my first brush with grandeur. I was ushered into the Marble Museum, welcomed by imperious white marble statues of King George V and Queen Mary. Then followed gallery upon gallery lined with life-size and life-like portraits of queens, viceroys and governors-general. The gilded teakwood frames made them look all the more grandiose. The likenesses of Marie Leszczynska, Queen of France (1705–68), and Queen Elizabeth in her younger days can put any questions about their beauty to eternal rest. The paintings seemed so real that I nearly bowed, lest the sahibs and memsahibs took offence! I couldn’t figure out why the place is named Marble Museum. There are only six marble statues. Well, since one of these six was of King George, it probably had something to do with not wanting to be on the wrong side of royalty!

KITCHEN MUSEUM

It was time to move to the Kitchen Museum in the basement. Kitchen stylists, this is the muse you seek! One look at ‘The Star of India’ dining table, perfectly set to host royalty, and you are hooked. An array of dishes surrounds white chinaware with turquoise borders, stunning silver cutlery and an imposing candelabra—quite the princely lunch setting. The dining table and chairs are original pieces designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens. There are also copper spatulas and wooden ladles, a brass coffee maker and glasses in exquisite crystal, enough to humble the best of kitchens.
And the variety, oh! Those of us who partake of breakfast and lunch and dinner in the same dishes, we can gape. On display were separate ceramic dishes used for breakfast and evening tea. And they had some real fancy names too: White Gold Staff Crest, Cockatrice, Adam Pattern, Indian Pattern, Bella Vista, Silver Wing China… The Blue de Roi dinner service and silverware looks straight out of a regal banquet in the Raj.
My favourite was the black picnic box made of wood and waterproof cloth. It
has cups, saucers, plates, knives, teaspoons, forks, pepper and salt shakers, sugar jar, tumblers and flasks—all fitted into a compact case. The detachable upper and lower lids come with steel supports and can be unfolded to form tables. Meals on the go!

GIFTS MUSEUM

By now, royalty seemed to be rubbing off on me as well. I was in the mood for some royal window-shopping. Next on the agenda was the Gifts Museum, showcasing some of the best gifts the Indian president has been showered with. ‘Some’ is subjective. My eye was instantaneously riveted to the sword sheathed in a diamond-studded case, a gift from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. And the black suede overcoat hand-embroidered in gold thread, from Uzbekistan. Oh and the 640 kg silver chair on which King George V sat for the Delhi Durbar.

DURBAR HALL AND ASHOKA HALL

Then came the most humbling experience. We were in Durbar Hall. To stand in the hallowed space where the President confers Bharat Ratnas and Padma Vibhushans on those who have risen above the ordinary was very motivating. The guide singled out a chair used at a recent awards ceremony by Sonia Gandhi. I couldn’t help sinking into it. Hmm…
And then I had to contend with Ashoka Hall, which has hosted so much eminence that I could barely breathe. “This is where India’s governments are sworn in,” said the guide, further de-oxygenating me. And, of course, the previous day, Chinese premier Hu Jintao was at that very table. Like a zombie, I followed the guide through the dining hall, listening to him explain the entire process of serving various meal courses, in a strange haze of awe and wonderment. Yet, I could not help but notice the ceiling, covered with paintings depicting royal hunting expeditions and scenes from court life. Done on leather, the works were commissioned by Lady Willingdon when her husband was the viceroy.

MUGHAL GARDENS

I really needed a breather. And out we went, through a gallery, into the Mughal Gardens. En route, we admired a bust of Lutyens, the brain behind all this magnificence. Indeed, the pilgrimage would have been incomplete without paying homage to him. The Mughal Gardens allowed me to visualise and recreate a walk in the Mughal charbaghs. The benches in carved red sandstone seemed a perfect addition to the myriad colours on display.
I couldn’t do much more than sit on one of the benches. As if the enormity of the experience had brought me to my knees. I envied the President, who had the luxury of this palatial home. But then, he is the President.

DID YOU KNOW?

India’s first President, Dr Rajendra Prasad, considered the master bedroom—initially built for the Viceroy—too classy for his humble tastes. So, he occupied the guest bedroom. Subsequent Presidents have followed his tradition.

FACT FILE

The museums open from 10 am to 5 pm on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.

You need to take an appointment with the Deputy Military Secretary to the President.

Minimise your baggage; you will need to hand it over to the security.

Follow the guide. Don’t be overzealous about exploring on your own!

CRemember to carry your own water bottle.

A lot of walking is in order; dress accordingly.

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Book Your Sundays Now

Published in The Times of India, November 10, 2006

Well, never judge a book by its… you know what. Applies to places too. One visit to Daryaganj book bazaar, and you’re possessed—book, line and sinker!

—AMIN AlI


Pesky sisters are completely avoidable on lazy Sunday mornings. But one ill-fated Sunday, the pestering transmuted into a refrain and I yielded, agreeing to accompany her to Sunday Book Bazaar at Daryaganj. On second thoughts, good. This is where you might just find Shakespeare’s Complete Works, leather-bound too, at an appalling tag of Rs 30 and, the priciest of software for less than what a glass of juice costs! I’d crossed this street often enough but never waded through the piles of books and magazines stretching to eternity.

DON OR CLINICAL PSYCHOLOGY?

There were enough distractions though. SRK seemed to fume at me for choosing books over Don. People jostling for books seemed in a mob-like frenzy. My sister pointed at the car parking opposite Delite cinema and I knew my Sunday morning was ruined.
The pavements, usually bustling with people waiting to get affidavits drafted, were full of bookstalls. The books caught first my eye and then my mind too. The first stall dispelled my doubts about the place selling merely age old tattered books. I heard two students asking for latest book on clinical psychology. To my surprise the vendor showed him five different editions. My sister was smirking by now.
A bespectacled guy beckoned me. He needed to choose from 20—yes twenty—books on biomechanics. Every vendor’s 10x8 sheet was reminiscent of a library shelf, only the mahogany was missing. We walked on.

COACH ME IF YOU CAN

We walked for about 30 minutes, from one pavement to another, haggling with shopkeepers without really intending to buy anything. When we reached Delhi Gate, the spiral-bound files sporting logos of leading coaching institutes just couldn’t be ignored. The prices depend on the package one opts for. Beats the prices at coaching centres hollow. A vendor agreed to sell me a six-month computer module for just Rs 240, about 2 per cent of what the institute offered it for.

FACT OR FICTION?

What’s a good book market without fiction? Thought at least I would challenge the market’s credibility as a book lover’s delight. But the market was bent on making me bite the dust. All eminent authors were there. Shakespeares, Nerudas, Dickens, Burns—all of them! Sensing my interest, the dealer asked if I wanted fiction or non-fiction. I was floored. I attempted a last throw of the dice. I asked for Marquez. He had six!
The next stall had brightly covered works of Premchand and Ghalib in heaps. Giving them company were Zauq and Dinkar. The covers looked like those Indian M&B’s sold at railway stations! Pick any for Rs 10. But, a colonial hangover was evident—foreign authors commanded Rs 20. I picked up Diwan-i-Ghalib and Premchand’s short stories for the price of two soft drinks. Cheers!
Walking, walking… as our legs went into anaerobic respiration and we hunted for a rickshawpuller, a voice loomed up: “I need the latest edition of Vogue.” I turned to see stalls full of fashion mags. Next to them were news and travel magazines. I selected 10 and, used to the low prices by now, paid him Rs 50 for the lot. I thought this a decent amount when my sister wanted the change back. Wonder of wonders, the vendor returned Rs 20. Time and Forbes for Rs 3!
But if you are a geek, you would not be disappointed either. You can haggle over the entire Microsoft Office suite for Rs 10—and trust me, they actually work! The Samurai and Marios come cheap too, shell out Rs 30 for these all-time favourite computer games.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Finally, we zeroed in on the vendor who had to give my sister her political theory books. As he acquired them—from where, who cares—we replenished our energy levels. Chhole bhature and fruit juice were available not too far, at a stall close to Golcha cinema.
The entire experience of being there, walking through the sinuous bazaar, rubbing shoulders with other book lovers and being part of the mad book rush was simply fascinating. One could have walked into any well-known library but found lesser variety of books. Don still screamed for my attention, but the ticket money had been well spent on Premchand, Ghalib, Time and Forbes! Sunday mornings can actually be quite interesting.

REMEMBER:

To look out for good buys in notepads, registers, office files, even small carry bags.

To bargain for the best deal. Cut the shopkeeper’s demand to half—to begin with!

News magazines and novels cost much less than fashion mags and coaching notes.

Minimise baggage. Carry a large bag to store purchases. Shopkeepers often don’t provide polybags.

Vendors don’t have catalogues; rummage the pile to look for the book of your choice.

Carry tenners, finding change might not be easy.

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