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THE NEW DELHI (p. 2 of 3)
1 | 2 | 3 | MAR
The journey to F Bar should be a simple 30-minute ride – but noooo… We get horribly lost. Nobody seems to know exactly where it is. In fact, that’s the case with many Delhi "addresses," a quaint misnomer for vague directions and landmarks like: "It’s between the Adidas store and the little restaurant that serves great tandoori chicken." All we know is that F Bar is in South Delhi near the Qutab Golf Course. So we zoom blindly through dimly lit slums in Noni’s cab, faces plastered against the window, watching the hordes of dogs parting as we approach. By now we understand, accept and even envy Noni’s driving skills, so the 75-minute expedition becomes entertaining.
When we finally arrive, the buff doorman gives us a polite nod as we enter. Small octagonal TVs hang from above the central bar. A projector flashes Fashion TV footage onto large sheer screens overhead. The DJ plays smooth world music with pumping beats. Anhinav Gain, a regular barfly, overhears me asking the bartender about the popularity of the place and excitedly pipes in: "Christian Dior launched his cologne here last week. And Pakistani cricket star Wasim Akram was here last night." With about 900 other socialites apparently. I doubt that many bodies could fit into the 200-square-metre space (a bar, upstairs lounge and terrace), but his boast reinforces that Delhites love the nightlife. Even on a Sunday night, there are dozens of people: lithe women in glimmering saris or designer wear sipping pretty cocktails, mingling with men in jeans and crisp alligator- and horse-crested dress shirts.
When we describe our night out a few days later to Felix Turiansky, a former Montreal chef who was recently lured to Delhi by restaurant investors, he listens politely. For the last few months, Turiansky has been busy trying to open a restaurant serving contemporary market cuisine in Connaught Place. He’s banking on people opening their minds – and their stomachs – to new things. But he notes with some disdain that Delhi’s scene will never amount to that of New York or Paris, where fresh ideas are wholeheartedly embraced. I counter with my own arguments: Travel and the Internet are influencing people to demand choice, whether in design, music or food. The economy is good; more young people have jobs and money to spend. There’s a housing and car-buying boom. Surely, these are signs of something? "Yeah," he says. "But it still will never be like other big cities."
Since we’ve only just scratched the surface of the nouveau city, it’s hard to argue. So the next day, we head to Old Delhi, the original settlement of Shah Jahan’s empire, to catch a glimpse of life before the British. The area once named Shahjahanabad tucks into the crook of the Yamuna River, and we instantly recognize this older part of town as a concentrated version of New Delhi: more traffic, more people, more action. Sporting closed-toe shoes and newly forged nerves of steel, we dive into the chaos.
The rules are obvious: Be swift, never hesitate, keep moving at all times. We contend with the thousands of bicycle and auto rickshaws – not to mention the swarms of people moving through every sliver of available real estate. The experience is oddly exhilarating. We spend the day in a real-life game of Frogger, popping into crammed shops and stalls selling everything from pashmina shawls to silk carpets to irresistible street food. Wallas, or vendors, lure us with their wares: namkeen, a savoury mix of nuts, noodles and peas; lassis, whipped yogurt drinks; aloo tikkis, fried potato patties stuffed with spicy lentils; and enough sweets to make your teeth fall out. We stuff ourselves silly.
Exhausted but still wanting to go deep into Old Delhi to the Khari Baoli, the largest spice market in Asia, we opt for a bicycle rickshaw. An election parade sets off massive gridlock, and we sit for over an hour with nothing else to do but look around. The only people moving are the vendors who carry everything from furniture to fruit on their heads, shoulders and backs. As I watch the scene unfold before me, the real difference between New and Old Delhi becomes abundantly clear. Sure, the new city is moving and shaking to a global beat, but Old Delhi is doing the same thing in its own chaotic way. To my eyes, that looks pretty new and exciting too. [ ]
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1 | 2 | 3 | MAR
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