Porto: Call of the wine country

THEY were a picture of contrasts. Our Portuguese host Ana, a top-ranking official from Lisbon or Lisboa to locals, and Jorge, a Porto resident and our city guide. The senhora was a freewheeling spirit, with cascading laughter, twinkling eyes and not shy of faltering. The Porto senhor was solemn, duty-conscious and I can’t recall him smiling. The two provided a visual display to a common maxim in Portugal: ‘Porto works, Braga prays, Lisbon plays’! The adage is used to describe the country’s north-south divide (a la Delhi-Chennai but in reverse equation) between the apparently more traditional and hardworking Northerners, and the flamboyant Southerners, flaunting and flirting with power. Industrial Porto is an economy booster, but seemingly doesn’t get due credit. That it wears a chip on its shoulder came through as our tour progressed, with Jorge often making it a point to stress certain attributes of his city being “more/better than Lisbon” much to Ana’s amusement.
It appeared the two geographically-diverse cities — Lisbon (with its sun-baked plazas) and Porto (where cool mountain air wafts in making it semi-Mediterranean) — agreed to disagree on almost everything. Except, when it came to Port wine! The pride of Portugal, the wine is aged and marketed from Porto. Jorge knew he had no competition here and proudly said: “Portugal and its famous wine get their name from my city.” Maybe, just maybe, a faint smile lit up his face then.
Porto, or O Porto (The Port) as Portuguese refer to it, is the country’s second largest city and amongst the oldest provincial settlements of Europe. Dating back to AD 3, it features on the Unesco world heritage list. It’s on the estuary of the lovely Rio Douro (River of Gold) that meanders through the Iberian Peninsula before embracing the Atlantic Ocean.
Around 90 km north of Porto, its waters form the Douro Valley, where the wine is exclusively produced in over six-lakh acres of quintas (vineyards). In times gone by, wine casks were sent down the Douro in rabelos or flat-bottom sailing vessels, to be stored in adegas (cellars) at Porto and its sister city Vila Nova de Gaia, just across the river. It was bottled and exported from here, acquiring the name ‘Port wine’ or ‘Vinho do Porto’.
Vila Nova De Gaia — linked to Porto by the famous arched Dom Luis I Bridge (featured in many a Hollywood movie) engineered by an associate of Eiffel — is where we headed for a tour of the ‘wine caves’ (as cellars are called) at the circa 1859 firm, Calem, one of the leaders among the over dozen lining the Douro.
Our dishy Greek guide briefly introduced the fortified wine, consumed as an aperitif or dessert, before leading us to a casket-shaped room to view a short film on wine production. “You are sitting in a casket, if sweet enough you’ll turn into wine,” he joked. None of us did! Next up was a walk through the caves packed with oak casks and getting acquainted with different ports—Blanco or White, which was gaining in acceptance; time-honoured Ruby and Tawany that could be stored after opening; and the delicately-fashionable Vintages. The quick tour gave a wine novice like me a feel of the deal and concluded with a tasting of red and white port in a sparkling hall, with a live band adding to the mood. Expectedly, each of us picked up a bottle of port as souvenir.
Porto’s history shows a series of conquerors, from the Romans to the Moors, stepping on to its shores and dominating for centuries. Their assorted influences are visible in the compelling architecture found within its labyrinth of cobbled alleys, edifice façades with distinctive blue ceramic tiles, Gothic churches (the pick of the city sites for me being Igreja de São Francisco or Church of Saint Francis with Baroque-style gilt edged wood interiors) and the classic town square, all coming together to lend a quaint yet atypical medieval look.
The river-front or Ribeira is the most atmospheric part of the historic city, packed with open-air cafes, restaurants and pubs. It’s nice to sit by the river here and soak in the spirit. Adding to bygone charms are the sailing rabelos. Though no longer in use, these are a tourist attraction for cruises. On St John’s Day, June 24, crowds gather by the Douro to watch rabelos take part in the annual regatta.
And of course, celebrations mean the vinho do porto flows unrestricted and diligent Porto lets its hair down.

PORT WINE BRANDS TO PICK FROM: Fonseca,Taylor’s, Calem, Romariz, Sandeman

HOW TO REACH: Air: Several low-cost and regular international carriers fly into Porto.

Train (www.eurailtravel.com): From Lisbon stations (Gare do Oriente or Santa Apolónia), take the train for Campanha (3 hours), from where there’s the choice of changing to a train heading to Sao Bento, the city centre (5 minutes, no extra ticket required), or taking taxis.

WHERE TO STAY: Tiara Park Atlantic Porto (www.tiara-hotels.com), Porto Palácio Hotel (www.hotelportopalacio.com)


Published in The New Indian Express, July 2011

Indian Folk Art: Saura painting, Orissa

Symbolic: Reflecting their cults and myths.

Art

Saura invocations

BRINDA SURI

Apart from depicting primitive everyday life, Saura paintings are meant to appease the presiding deity, Edital.

Saura paintings almost always become a victim of mistaken identity. The reason being that the-less-promoted Saura with origins in Orissa and the-very-popular Warli from Maharashtra seem separated at birth.

The common factor between the two begins and ends with them both being tribal pictographs and thus having similar elements expressed in a similar idiom, which in this case is stick figures. That apart, there are subtle differences that distinguish a Warli from a Saura; and once pointed out by masters of the art, there's a lean chance of not being able to make a distinction between the two.

Decreasing in number

The Sauras are considered amongst the oldest tribes in India. They have features resembling the pre-Dravidian tribes, and largely inhabit the currently-strife-torn tribal zone of Orissa, particularly Koraput, Gajapati, Nabrangpur and Rayagada districts. In addition, sizeable numbers are also settled in Chattisgarh, Andhra Pradesh, Jharkhand and Assam.

Tribes across the country have a thread of commonality running through their customs, and the differences that exist have been observed to be largely region-specific. All tribes have a close affinity with nature and besides worshipping its bounties in all forms, their daily existence, including household chores, livelihood and entertainment, also revolves around it. It's no different in the case of the Sauras, who live in a terrain that is hilly and has dense forests. Their huts are characteristically built with bamboo and mud on a raised platform and are very basic in design— rectangular with a small main door. The tribe is known for contoured farming and their sustenance depends on shifting agriculture, hunting and fishing.

On the face of it, it's this primitive everyday life that is depicted in the Saura paintings. There is, though, a deeper meaning to each work that the artists produce. Most significantly Saura paintings are done to appease their presiding deity, Edital, who is invoked during all rituals and celebrations. This invocation in the Saura paintings is shown through assorted symbols drawn from their day to day living, cults and myths with each holding a meaning for their worship.

“The most important tradition among the Sauras is praying for the well-being of their ancestors. This is followed by other celebrations as child-birth, harvest, marriage etc. During each occasion the painting called ekon, or nowadays eponymously referred to as edital, is worshipped,” says artist Kesudas of Baleswari Kala Kendra, Balasore. “The ekon is made on the walls—it's mandatorily done when a new house is constructed—and traditionally the Sauras choose a dark corner inside their home for it. Every occasion does not demand a new ekon and the existing one is regularly used; until and unless it is a significant family/societal event or time to give the house a new coat of paint, which is when specific set of prayers are done before an ekon is created,” he adds. These days artists draw ekons but customarily it was only the Kudangs, or the community of priests among the Sauras, who were qualified to do ekons. These men had the expertise to explain their meaning to village gatherings and the ekon thus was looked at as a valuable feature of a vocal tradition through which the Sauras connected with their customs.

Natural motifs

According to convention, the only colours used by the Sauras for the paintings are geru (from red earth) and white (from rice paste). Saura art, as mentioned, uses the stick figure iconography and their motifs consist of people, trees, sun, moon, animals, village activities etc. Among some distinguishing characteristics of their paintings when compared to its fraternal twin Warli, is each painting being constructed within a specific geometrical framework. “In a Saura painting the border is drawn first after which the interiors are filled, which is called the fish-net approach. This is not the case with Warli wall art. These days market-driven customs and more awareness about other forms, have seen both Saura and Warli picking up each other's nuances,” says the artist.

Saura paintings have travelled from walls to handmade paper and tussar silk in keeping with demands of contemporary times, which is also seeing the widespread use of black ink in these drawings; leading to the misconception that traditionally Warli is done in white and Saura in black! The subject has also moved away from being solely religious to that showing various social acts. Modern icons like buses, cars, television have also been incorporated in the paintings. Saura paintings are treasures of folklore and a fantastic pictorial tradition that convey a community's literature and beliefs.

Published in The Hindu, June 2011

Perfectly 'Made in Japan'

BRINDA SURI   

The Land of the Rising Sun greets you with dignity, composure and grace all the way.

Even as Japan recovers from the devastation wreaked by nature's fury, its people retain their dignity and composure. They remain ever-willing to assist, although communication barriers can sometimes lead to funny situations. An account of some lighter moments from a recent visit to the country

The Chinese have[n't] made it

Japan, and all the wonders it was working with technology, were a part of my growing-up years. Back then, in many homes National was the telly of choice, Fuji was the film roll, Canon the camera, Yamaha the motorbike the neighbour's son rode, Citizen the watch, and so on. Except for the juta not being Japani everything else seemed to be. Buying or gifting Japanese proficiency meant you had invested in the best.

That was in the 1980s. By the time I visit Japan in 2011, I find I have to hunt for the ‘Made in Japan' label at consumer stores. It's not as tedious a task as it is in the malls of the West, but it's a job nonetheless. For each Japanese label present there are seven Chinese labels vying for attention. The 100 Yen stores have items that are Japanese in preference but, as with their cousins — the Dollar stores, are Chinese in production. I browse through a lot and finally pick up a set of miso soup bowls. The salesgirl assisting me beams and says, “ Hai (Yes)! No China. This Japan!” I buy it.

A-wash with pleasure

What bliss to visit a country of fellow bottom-washers! Characteristic to Japan, they have made technical art out of a routine, light years away from the modestlota. And thankfully, it's not as tricky as the futuristic faucet systems in hotel loos. All you need to do is press a few buttons on the panel beside the toilet seat and experience an automaton mop-up. Japan's revolutionary toilets began making news ever since Toto arrived on the scene with its Washlet, which has since attained generic status. Statistics speak of Japanese homes having more washlets than laptops. The tissue-roll — considered one of the barometers of a consumerist society — is nowhere near the top-10 household items. The washlet, described as a bidet toilet, has features such as the delightful seat warming, anus washing, bidet washing, dryers and so on, with the latest ones being able to check blood sugar, blood pressure and BMI. Need a fart-disguising sound? Install the Otohime, also known as Sound Princess, a faux-flush tone that saves embarrassment. The washlet's prime endeavour is to provide comfort and hygiene alongside being a water-saver. At some places there's a spigot atop the tank, allowing users to conserve by washing hands with water intended for the next flush. Even squeaky-clean public toilets boast similar features. As across Asia, Japan has squat toilets and has revolutionised these too. Unlike in India, the Japanese have used technology to make a conventional need more convenient. As a start, will star hotels in India please ape East rather than West and include an elementary water-wash feature (yes, the process has slowly begun) rather than just the eco-foe tissue-roll.

A kind gesture, when words fail

Communication remains a challenge, even in bustling Tokyo: signboards and brochures are either in Kanji or Katakana script and the population speaks Nihongo. Written English is by far more understood than spoken. Sometimes the verbal can lead to the hilarious: on my saying I'll ‘manage' I was asked if I wanted ‘marriage'. But the Japanese are a beautiful people and make a genuine effort to help. At my wit's end once, trying to locate a particular street in Roppongi, the entertainment district, I saw a ray of hope when a shop assistant ran and got a pamphlet that announced ‘Map' in English. Happily I bowed and said my “ arigato-gozaimasu (thank you very much)” and marched out of the shop. I spread out the map and it was all crystal clear… It was in Japanese.

Take a bow, beautiful people

During interfaces, I was often reminded of the dialogue in the film Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke where a crisis-ridden Rahul Malhotra (Aamir Khan) chides his assistant: “Mishraji (Mushtaq Khan), aap jhukte rahenge, kuch karenge bhi?” when he finds the Japan-returned Misharji bowing non-stop prior to seeking help from a group of Japanese tourists. While the film spoofs this emblematic Japanese etiquette, I saw in it a disarming custom of bestowing honour on the other person during any interaction. According to tradition, quite like in India, physical touch is avoided. So the Japanese humbly bow to all, with such dignity and grace, it almost seems poetry in action. They bow even after you've said goodbye and turned to leave, and continue doing so while you or the vehicle is still in sight. What particularly left an impression was the lined-up airfield ground staff in Sapporo bowing as soon as our aircraft landed. They were extending a welcome, without us knowing.

Auto giants in name only!

Japanese auto brands are household names in India, so meeting persons with surnames such as Honda, Mazda or Suzuki would bring on a smile. Some would realise that and quip, “Oh, oh! Not from the car family.” I would routinely bump into a familiar last name. The only time I didn't, I was a co-passenger to a sales executive on a local bus in Hakone; and he belonged to the city of Kawasaki.

Published in The Hindu Business Line, June 10, 2011

Indian folk art: Of Bankura & Bishnupur

Published in Deccan Herald, June 2011

Paella Valencia

"It's pronounced pah-e-yah," he said. I repeated after him but it didn’t match up to his standard. "You got to say it with a lilt ('song' was the word he used to explain). Bring a little romance into it," he smiled. "Pah-e-yah," I said. "Almost there," he exclaimed triumphantly. I was at the century-old La Marcelina, a renowned classic in Valencia, the home of paella, and it was the gracefully-grey chief steward who was playing tutor. When it’s the paella being discussed with a true-blue Spaniard, getting every nuance correct relating to this star of the gastronomy galaxy is essential. And lesson one is its intonation. The recipes and ingredients may patiently await their turn.

Paella has interesting history, its origins lying in the food preferences of the Moors who repeatedly conquered Spain between AD 711 and 1492. Their typical dish was a combination of rice, meats, vegetables and spices cooked in broth (which in turn was supposedly an Arabic/Persian influence and closer home the biryani and pulao are said to have come across those shores). The rice-based hot-pot was usually prepared at family feasts or religious celebrations and shared by the community, a feature that’s still common in the Islamic world. The paella was born out of these influences. Around the 18th century it began being savoured as a stand-alone celebratory fare in the Valencia region, at places replacing the barbeque as an outdoorsy treat, and evolved to its present-day form by the mid-19th century. Steadily its aromas spread across Spain acquiring a tag for itself on the way as the national dish, tad inaccurately though, as it primarily remains proudly Valencian, prepared and served with flourish at its bistros and restaurants. Paella is their top souvenir too, its image being visible on fridge magnets, aprons, diaries, broaches and much more. 

Quite stereotypically it’s said the Spanish love siesta and fiesta and everything else fits in between. If this is another way of saying they enjoy the good life, that’s true, as my Spain tour showed. Weekdays were workdays, just as the weekends were strictly not that! I was in Valencia on a Sunday, when city commerce tightly downs its shutters and the crowds are out sunning on the popular Playa (beach) de Las Arenas, cruising down the Mediterranean, happily filling open-air cafes, or among other sites exploring the superb Bioparc—Europe’s only new generation animal habitat, certainly not to be skipped during a visit.

It’s also a custom-made day to enjoy Spain’s famously-long lunches (a several course affair between 2 pm - 4 pm). And nothing could have been more apt than an extended session at the beach-front La Marcelina, digging into the traditional ‘Paella Valenciana’, consisting of bomba rice (incidentally, rice as an everyday grain was introduced by the Moors to the Iberian Peninsula), rabbit, chicken, snails, vegetables—white lima beans and green beans or bachoqueta are a constant—tomatoes and saffron. Today there are as many versions of paella as there are cooks and its ingredients can include seafood, pork, meat, duck etc but these are given a thumbs-down by the connoisseur. I settled for a veggie adaptation which was deliciously robust even as it was delicately flavoursome. My group of fellow travellers definitely enjoyed their genuine-as-it-gets fare making correct noises about succulent rabbit meat, spice-infused chicken and crisp-tender snails.

  

Just as every home in India worth its garam masala has a secret recipe, every Spanish home will lay claim to preparing the most authentic paella. It requires painstaking labour, being cooked fresh and on an open fire. So as elsewhere in the world, Spaniards have increasingly begun going out for a paella meal and classic restaurants make sure they serve it suave.    

As I realised, savouring the paella is merely a part of the experience. The joy lies in the element of passion accompanying every step. In fact the entire process, from preparation to presentation, is akin to a faultless theatre production. There are the backstage boys — the master chef and his team, them being more like the king and his trusted aides; the supporting cast — steward, maitre d', front-end  manager; the various acts — the multiple courses which include sangria/red wine and rounds of appetizers; and of course the protagonist of the plot — paella.

At conventional places as La Marcelina, the paella is brought to the table in the paellera (wok-like, albeit flat with shallow sloping sides and large, the dimension going up to 3 ft) itself and displayed almost vertically  — a mark of perfection — to guests garnering much applause and appreciation. Individual portions are subsequently placed on platters and served with a wedge of the all-important lemon. At homes there’s a scramble for the toasted rice (the khurchan as we know it) lining the bottom of the pan, and considered an essential of good paella. The restaurants make sure they distribute the khurchan unbiased! Spanish restaurants are buzzing places to be in and a paella meal makes the occasion more celebratory; a must-experience when visiting the country, especially Valencia.  

A question I was frequently posed on my return was if the paella could measure up to a biryani. My plea is don’t even venture into the apples to oranges debate. Besides, it’s sacrilege to compare anything prepared with a certain long-grain, divinely-fragrant rice called basmati.  

Best paella restaurants in Valencia (as recommended by locals) 

La Marcelina                                             

Neptune Avenue 8, 
Playa de Las Arenas (beachfront)

www.lamarcelina.com
La Pepica

Neptune Avenue 6, Playa de Las Arenas

www.lapepica.com

Palace Fesol

Calle (or street) Hernan Cortes 7, (City Centre)

www.palacefesol.com

El Rall

Calle Tundidores 2, (City Centre)

www.elrall.es

Restaurant Nou Raco 

Carretera (or road) Palmar 21,

Inside Albufera Park

www.nouraco.com
Restaurant Mateu

Calle Baldoví 17,

El Palmar, Albufera

Quick Facts

Best time: June to September

City sights:Plaza de la Reina, part of the historic City Centre, that has El Micalet, the landmark octagonal bell-tower, and the Valencia Cathedral purportedly housing the Holy Grail; Plaza de Toros; Central Market, amongst Europe's biggest enclosed food trade space; La Lonja, a Unesco world heritage site; Bioparc Valencia; and City of Arts and Sciences  

Getting there:

Air: International carriers fly into Valencia. From India flights have stopovers at European hubs of Milan, Zurich etc

Train: Valencia has direct connections with Barcelona and Madrid. The train from/to Madrid takes about 1.30 hrs and the journey is on the new, high-speed AVE train network. Purchasing a Eurail (www.eurailtravel.com) country/inter-country pass is a practical option.  

Accommodation: Hotel Sercotel Sorolla Palace, Avenida de las Cortes Valencianas 58,

www.hotelsorollapalace.com

Hotel Westin, Amadeo de Saboya 16,

www.westinvalencia.com

Published in JetWings International, June 2011 

La Liga: Uno numero

Messi magic enthralled the world at the Wembley on May 28 as the mercurial striker once again lead Barcelona to victory, this time around in the prestigious UEFA Champions League final, confirming the status of (Spanish) La Liga as premier among European leagues. Football 
is truly a different ball game as compared to other sport and little else compares to watching the best in action LIVE! Here's sharing my recent experience of witnessing action of 
Spanish league 'futbol' and its growing popularity in India

V-a-l-e-n-c-i-a, V-a-l-e-n-c-i-a! The chant would reach a crescendo and then dip to a hush. Its cadence had the harmony of conducted orchestra. In a way, it was being orchestrated, by two sets of eleven men on a green field chasing a white ball. Every move of theirs was akin to the conductor’s baton, and every move produced a piece of music, both on field, where each action had the grace of a band of instrumentalists, and off-field in the spectator stands, where cheers and chants synchronised in perfect chorus.

I was at the Mestella Stadium in coastal Valencia, absorbed in watching a Premier Division match of the Spanish professional football league, usually referred to as La Liga, one of the most exciting sport leagues globally. With its dauntingly-steep terraced seating arrangement accommodating a capacity crowd of 55,000, the Mestella—home turf of Valencia Club de Futbol—is acknowledged for whipping up an electrifying
atmosphere unmatchable in all Europe. I was a witness to that stimulating ambience on the Sunday when home team Valencia took on Villareal. It was a crucial tie, where a win for Valencia would strengthen its hold on the all-important third place in the Spanish league, giving the team a direct entry into the qualifying round of next season’s UEFA Champions League, Europe’s uno numero tournament played by its top soccer clubs.

The European spectator, I’d heard, takes his soccer seriously and is a keen observer of field play. And so it was. Around me was a capacity crowd completely clued into the action and watching every move with an intensity associated with a chess tourney! Their reactions were perfectly timed: whether it was the resounding cheering when a team made brilliant moves to reach the goal post and mange to score; the chanting to
encourage their players; or jeering when they felt the referee had goofed. That night it was advantage home-team, and Valencia trounced Villareal 5-0. Watching the goal feast live spelled delight for my group of fellow travellers and I, who had turned Valencia loyalists almost immediately upon taking seats inside the stadium. Our local guide Miguel, a proud Valencian, didn’t need to prod us to support his side; the fervour of the
followers of the game having converted us into fans, and over the next few days in Spain we were scouting around for Valencia souvenirs! It goes without saying, a soccer match experience when touring the country is highly recommended.

I was pleasantly surprised at the level of crowd concentration, which came as quite a contrast to all my previous experiences of being part of live sporting action, usually cricket, in India, where typically the majority is a carefree, star (read cricketer)-stuck spectator. Of what I’ve seen, the Calcutta fan comes closest to his European counterpart for the gravitas he attaches to any game he watches. I felt it is the power-packed performance in all of 90 minutes that instills such passion into the crowd. It’s not for nothing that football is called ‘the beautiful game’ When players are on song, the moves are lyrical and a high quality show will always elicit a response of similar caliber.

In India we lack such performances, the reason only big ticket events draw the crowds. Even the country’s most popular sport had to repackage itself as a slam-bang T-20 format to get the crowd coming in, even as the once-celebrated league-format Ranji Trophy event languishes. In contrast European league soccer is intense-paced and over the past few years gained immense viewership across India. The yet largely-urbane trend started in the metros with uber sport bars and cafes installing plasma screens to telecast sporting action, and it spread to other cities as café culture grew. Stars of European leagues in Spain, Italy, Germany etc have developed a relatively sizeable fan-following and it’s all set to grow with sport channels constantly beaming live action.

 And it’s not restricted to gender. A Delhi-based colleague on the Spain trip eagerly picked up Real Madrid memorabilia for her 14-year-old daughter when we visited its home ground, the Santiago Bernabeu Stadium, considered a ‘pilgrimage place’ in Madrid. Incidentally, the spectacular achievement of the club makes a visit here truly special for a sport buff; and I felt had the security at the stadium not been tough, the ground would have been bereft of turf, with ardent fans wanting to take a bit of the grass along! Another highlight of the stadium is its chic eatery, the Realcafe Bernabeu that allows a ringside view of the stadium, albeit only on non-match days. It serves fusion and Mediterranean cuisine at surprisingly affordable prices and also an assortment of quality wines. Food apart, the scrumptious highlight remains the unrestricted sight of the stadium and visualizing the euphoria when packed. The Real Museum is another glittering gallery of achievements to walk through.

The contest among Spanish clubs is fierce and so is fan allegiance. But on May 28, when Manchester United took on Barcelona in the 2011 edition of the Champions League final at the Wembley, all Spanish inter-club rivalry was put on hold to support only one name…Barcelona! And miles away, in many cities of India, cheering fans donned T-shirts of the teams and watched two sets of eleven men chase the white ball to net goal after goal (3-1) to lift the prestigious trophy.

Indian folk art: Gond

Published in Deccan Herald, May 2011

Mohali bonhomie

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CHENNAI, April 9, 2011

Updated: April 9, 2011 19:34 IS

Pix: AP
If a sport like cricket can bind and ease tensions between the two countries, why can't we channelise this energy into a more constructive form, asks Brinda Suri after watching the high-energy clash in Mohali.


THE Indian cricket lexicon just got a few worthy additions: Dhoni's Devils, Wankhede, April 2, 2011. It was 28 years ago when the first few entries had appeared, on a magical June 25, 1983. The ICC World Cup win has unveiled a new set of champions but there's no stealing the thunder from the Original XI, a certain rough-diamond Kapil Dev and his Daredevils, those magnificent men in white whose acts of bravado have found immortal space in the tote bag of sporting legends. Who dared to go where no Indian had been before, to forever change the fortune of cricket in the country.

A political tool?

Since that incredible triumph at Lord's cricket in India has seen a metamorphosis to divine status, has a few gods to boast about and is a potent tool in many a money-spinning formulae. That it can play a role in political diplomacy as well was seen during the India-Pakistan semifinal, an encounter which in many ways was the juiciest in this edition.

Even as the country revels in the Mumbai win, the high-voltage Mohali clash remains of special significance. It should be of interest to rewind and take a look at some of the subtle moments connected with it that contributed to its now-famous bonhomie, the emotion of which managed to draw a tad-romanticised statement from India Foreign Secretary Nirupama Rao who said, “It would be appropriate to say that this time a ‘Mohali spirit' pervaded the Indo-Pak relationship.” On-field the ‘Mohali spirit' showed itself in heartwarming gestures…when Pakistan skipper Shahid Afridi had a buddy handshake with his Indian counterpart before the toss or when he grinned and patted Sachin Tendulkar on the shoulder just after failing to take his wicket owing to a dropped catch. It was instances like these that made the much-touted ‘war' just another game between two professional sides. Off-field there was much more. 

Replete with ingredients of a thriller, the March 30 tie was a sell-out. Besides the high-profile guests — a cheerful veneered Pakistan PM Yosuf Raza Gilani, an expectedly unanimated Indian PM Manmohan Singh and a surprisingly animated Sonia Gandhi; there was a bevy of familiar faces from the Bombay film fraternity, sundry ministers and corporate honchos. Private jets were supposed be ferrying the A-list, for the aam aadmi the Indian Railways ran a special train from Delhi to Chandigarh, and hotels were booked to capacity. It was Mohali's day in the sun. I was not scheduled to be at this mother of all matches, its tickets having sold out almost as soon as they were announced. As news of an India-Pakistan tie got confirmed the little piece of paper was the hottest property, with reports of it being crookedly traded for five figure amounts. Luck came my way when a cousin couldn't make it and grudgingly handed me the coveted terrace-block ticket.

Setting the mood

The air was fragrant with that lovely balminess of Punjab's pre-spring, the turf was a verdant carpet and in the packed PCA Stadium stands there was palpable energy, all crackling and electric. Making it more of a party were bhangra-pop songs booming on the microphone and dhol players drumming up the beat at regular intervals. The feisty crowd was here to watch a high-quality game and have a good time. Amongst them were 100-odd, men, women and children, who had walked across the Wagah border to cheer their Men in Green. And confidently raising its head time and again amidst the sea of Tricolour was the fluttering Green-White crescent-star. Every time it went up a hurrah erupted from some corner of the 26,000-plus crowd. The Pakistani was not an enemy here. He was a fair contender and the sporting Mohali crowd applauded a fine shot whichever side it came from. 

The opponent and its supporters were the cynosure of all eyes. Afridi received the biggest round of applause when his playing XI was announced, Wahab Riaz got an ovation for his succulent five-wicket haul and sitting-in-the-pavilion Shoaib Akhtar's autograph was most sought- after. In the stands their beautiful women, bespoke for the fashion ramp, stood out for their stylish attire — near-ankle length kurta, trouser and flowing dupatta — which made them worthy of a pictorial spread in the next day's newspapers. Hogging the limelight separately and obliging enthusiastic Indians with a photo a minute was Cricket Chacha or white- bearded Abdul Jalil, Pakistan's 61-year-old lucky mascot from Sialkot dressed in his trademark green, for whom this was “the biggest match” he was witnessing.

Punjabi by nature

This was Punjab and the multitude had its brand of zest in tact. Mukesh Ambani may be amongst India's richest but when he appeared at earshot distance from the crowd he was greeted the bum-chum way: "Oye Ambani! Wadhiya…all is well?" His wife Nita, though, was respectfully called “Bhabhiji”! Comic irreverence is part of the Punjabi fabric, but there was no room for the offensive here. A group of college boys occupying seats alongside mine were typically vivacious and happy-go-lucky. They had been wildly cheering but hadn't attracted the television cameras yet. “And that's a big shame,” they felt. The situation was being gravely pondered over till one of them said “We need to make the right noises. Let's flay them." No sooner than had he mouthed it that a volley of voices berated him: “Khabardaar, mehmaan ne saade… Don't you dare, they are our guests.”

No one had drilled the Ps and Qs into those young, cheeky heads, it was a natural response. Similarly, no one told the people of Punjab to open their homes to those from across the border as hotels were booked. No one told Raju, the little boy who was painting flags on cheeks of spectators, not to charge the Pakistanis. No one told restaurateurs in Chandigarh to request the guests not to ask for a bill. No one told the grand old Punjabi lady to approach a group of Lahore women, whom she spotted in the market a day after the match, with, “Aao, ghar charan pao… Come, grace my home.” It's a hospitable temperament not uncommon at a people-to-people level, which can ease relationships and let the two countries channelise their energies into more constructive issues. If only there's a political will… Cricket diplomacy has once again set the ball rolling. Will it get converted into valuable partnerships or as usual be stumped?

Published in The Hindu, April 2011

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/magazine/article1608082.ece

Srinagar & Leh: Of domes and minarets

Srinagar: Juma Masjid

Held in the embrace of snow-capped massifs in the folds of the Karakoram and Himalayan ranges, two distinct civilizations emerged within a few hundred km of each other in the Indian subcontinent to give the world an absorbing culturescape to explore. Though grouped under one province, the cold desert-plateau of Ladakh and the valley of Kashmir are chalk and cheese and a journey across their dividing mountains is a picture of stunning contrasts. Diverse geography shaped the lives of the two people and defined their architecture. Remarkably, religion too was deeply linked with societal changes and the region’s shrines present an evocative expression of that.

Buddhism and Islam are the two dominating religions and cross-cultural influences, particularly Central Asian, are evident in structures of both faiths. To a visitor, whereas monasteries and pagodas will come across as familiar in appearance it’s mosques and ziarats that make for an intriguing study, standing apart from the customary domed images.  

Kashmir: Aesthetic Central 

It’s often said, preachers and invaders have shaped the history of Kashmir. Besides a lot else, their legacy is seen in the incredible architecture dotting Srinagar, especially the older parts of town that exude a medieval air. Central Asian influence replaced Hinduism-Buddhism with Islam and also redefined its structural design. Brickwork was borrowed, timber detailing stepped in for stone, buildings became cubical and slender, and roofs emerged as the most distinguishing feature: conical or pyramidal finials atop the main structure. In some cases a few conical caps overlap, and are considered a classical European influence.

The pick amongst Srinagar’s shrines is the Khanqah-e-Moulla, a dedication to Iranian sufi Shah Hamadan who’s credited with sowing the seed of Islam in the Valley. Originally built in AD 1395 and rebuilt the third time in AD 1731, it embodies elements of Kashmir’s artistic competence. A quaint square structure in wood, its elegance is visible in the papier-mâché ceiling and distinctive latticed windows.

The Juma Masjid in Nowhatta is another significant pyramidal-roofed edifice. Fine brickwork marks it four identical gateways and the highlight of its large interiors is 370 pillars, each being a single deodar tree trunk. Almost all areas in old Srinagar have a dedication of sort. Khanyar is known for the ziarats of Dastgeer Sahib and Naqashband Sahib, two saints who did not visit the Valley but whose word spread here through their followers who brought their relics and built the memorials. These shrines are defined by a set of green conical roofs, glass windows and khatamband (square wood pieces) ceiling. Two noticeable features around most shrines in Srinagar is the space for feeding pigeons and the series of halwai shops.

Further away, at the base of Hari Parbat, the Makhdoom Sahib ziarat is another immensely revered spot. On the banks of the Dal Lake and looking distinctly different from this line-up is the domed Hazratbal.

There’s a tranquil magnetism about these shrines and in many way it’s their structures that exude a peaceful aura.   

Leh: Jama Masjid

Ladakh: Nature's Canvas 

In contrast to the fertile landscape of Kashmir, harsh and inaccessible topography determined the architecture of Ladakh. Buildings are terraced and box like with flat roofs and small windows, a design that counters severe temperatures. The material used is mud, stone, timber, all locally available and suitable for an area with scanty rainfall.

Similar to Tibet in terrain and tradition, Ladakh was most influenced by it. Central Asian influences began creeping in with Leh developing as a major trading centre on the Silk Route. As acknowledgment for their role in boosting economy, around AD 1640 land began being offered to traders, usually from Kashmir, to settle in Leh. Permission was also given to build a mosque; and Masjid Sharif in Chutayrangtak area is reportedly Leh’s oldest. Mosque façades seamlessly blended with their surroundings with subtle elements distinguishing them, as less ornate windows when compared to Buddhist structures. 

Talking about the slant towards symbolisation of Islam and its affect on local architecture, Leh-based eminent historian and author, Abdul Ghani Sheikh says, “Today the influence of Turko-Iranian elements—dome and minaret—are conspicuous in the two main mosques in Leh, the Jama Masjid in Main Bazaar and the Shi'a Imamia Masjid a little ahead. These changes surfaced in the 20th century. Prior to this there was no difference between a Muslim and Buddhist building, with both following conventional architecture. The mosques at best had a small, slender wooden crown, not as prominent as the Turko-onion domes."

Sheikh's collection of essays, 'Reflections on Ladakh, Tibet and Central Asia' (2010), is an insightful work on trans-region influences. In the chapter 'Islamic architecture in Leh' he has narrated legends of the Namgyal dynasty that ruled Ladakh and their role in the peaceful co-existence of Islam and Buddhism. "Intermarriages between Muslims from Baltistan and Buddhists of Ladakh were not considered out of place, with there being a tradition of each partner following his/her own faith. In fact this was the case till quite recently in Ladakh,” Sheikh enlightens, adding, “The most illustrious alliance dates back to the 17th century when King Jamyang Namgyal of Ladakh tied the knot with princess Gyal Khatun, daughter of the Shi'a king of Khaplu, Baltistan. Khatun remained a Muslim, but her son Senge Namgyal, became the most distinguished Buddhist ruler of Ladakh.”

Peace and preservation

There was, and still continues to be, a high level of tolerance between communities in Leh and this has a lot to do with no historical baggage of animosity despite concessions made between rulers of different faiths. “In AD 1681 when the Mongols invaded Ladakh, Mughal assistance was sought to deal with the enemy. Aurangzeb’s Mughal forces under Nawab Fidai Khan crushed the raid; and as a price Ladakhi king Deldan Namgyal granted land for a mosque to Sunni Muslims at the foot of the Leh Palace. This is where the Jami’a or Jama Masjid stands today,” explains Sheikh.

The wave of religious zeal has played a role in changing the four walls of worship. On the other hand, it’s a passion for preservation that has seen the restoration of the oldest mosque in Leh to near-original shape. Once in a dilapidated condition, the Masjid Sharif, known as Tsas Soma or New Garden Mosque, has been painstakingly restored by the Tibetan Heritage Fund International. It’s replete with Ladakhi elements as pillars, paper lamps, roof waterproofing with mar-kalag mud or butter-mud, wood floors etc.

As a connect between the two cultures stands the now-restored Shey mosque, said to be the first in Ladakh and built by Shah Hamadan. Following his decade-long stay in Kashmir, he departed for Central Asia, en route stopping in Ladakh. The mosque has both Kashmiri and Ladakhi features and gets its share of worshippers and travellers alike.

Quick facts:

Road: The Manali-Leh route is open from June to September and the Leh–Srinagar road between May to October.

For more info: www.jktourism.org

Published in JetWings, April 2011