Khushwant Singh once proclaimed that Delhi alone is suited to be India's capital, given its location and history. Certainly Delhi reeks of history. Iron pillars two millennia old, forts and monuments of past millennia greet you at various corners, speak of a rich past. Historian Perceival Spear has mentioned how east of Istanbul, no other city has such a strategic location, the primary reason for making it India's capital. Yet, with all due respect to Khushwant Singh, it must be noted that Delhi has been a centre of power for the last millennium, ever since the hordes of Central Asia eyed India. They needed a capital which could facilitate their movement onto the Gangetic plains and back to the Central Asian hills, and Delhi was ideal. This might also explain why earlier pan-Indian empires -- Maurya, Gupta, Harsh Vardhaman -- had their capital lower down the Gangetic plains, either at Pataliputra or Kanauj. But as the Delhi millennia comes to an end, we may ponder whether India needs a more centralised capital. If one has to compare Lutyens's Delhi with Red Fort-Chandni Chowk Delhi, I would vote for the latter. The Red Fort is truly magnificent, huge and awesome. Its bright red walls stand tall, testimony to an age of grandeur and glory long gone. Opposite is the bustling Chandni Chowk where getting your vehicle into third gear is an accomplishment. Also across the Red Fort are a masjid, Hindu and Jain temples, a gurdwara and a church, a reflection of India. No wonder Independence Day is marked at the Red Fort, reflecting a struggle of the people, by the people, for the people. By contrast, the imposing Rashtrapati Bhavan, South and North Blocks, laid out in perfect symmetry on Raisina Hill, the straight Rajpath which leads to India Gate, leaves one slightly cold. The buildings create an impression of distance between the rulers and the ruled, which may be what the British intended but which seems unsuited to the world's largest democracy. It seems only appropriate that Rajpath hosts the Republic Day parade. The tragedy of the Red Fort and Rashtrapati Bhavan (earlier the Viceroy's house) is that their completion saw the beginning of the end of the respective ages -- Mughal and British. A piece of history that should warn others from making monuments to mark their glory in Delhi! It's now been over 10 months since I moved to Delhi, and like most Bombayites, it has not been the most wonderful experience. Take the weather. After freezing through winter, now the heat is roasting us, a far cry from Bombay's humid warmth! Two weeks ago, my sister-in-law, her hubby and two small children came over for a week's vacation, and what a vacation it was. With temperatures soaring to over 40 degrees Celsius, they spent the entire week in front of the television, a huge cooler attempting not very successfully to turn hot dry air into cool, humid wind. Going out was impossible, one brave attempt at Delhi darshan abandoned halfway despite being inside an airconditioned bus. The only positive aspect: at least they got a break for the rat race that Bombay imposes since there was literally nothing much to do but just sit and stare at the idiot box! My wife and I never miss an opportunity to praise Bombay and curse Delhi, a bit unfair since really Delhi has done nothing to harm us and most of the people we come across are as decent as anyone else. But yet, if most visitors to Delhi start with a negative impression of the city, it is because the autorickshaw drivers, often the first point of contact with Delhiites, are most eager to fleece you, unlike their counterparts in Bombay. The autorickshaw drivers refuse to go by the meter, and if the distance is short, they will anyway charge double what the fare would have been. No doubt, these autofleecers should be given a crash course in decency and honesty or Delhi's image will stay low. In Bombay, journalists rarely own cars. In Delhi, most journalists do, and I discovered why. Granted an interview with the Chinese ambassador, I took a three-wheeler to his residence, which adjoins the embassy. On alighting from the autorickshaw, the Indian police guard at the gate gesticulated wildly, asking me to move on. My pleas that I had an appointment had little effect. After a brief debate, I went around to the embassy gates and announced my presence. The receptionist asked me to go around to the residence, where the bewildered guard saw me ushered me by Chinese officials. After the interview, the guard, whose epaulettes showed read Nagaland police, apologised to me in perfect though accented Hindi. I told him to forget it, but asked if he had not been informed of a visitor? He replied, "Saab, they told me that a bada saab will come in a car. You only came in an autorickshaw." Touché! Senior Assistant Editor Amberish K Diwanji lived in Baroda for many years before moving to Bombay.
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