February 18, 2012 Delhi-Agra Weekend Episode 2
Let me get what happened on the way to Mughal Gardens quickly out of the way. We left the hotel with Santoshji by 1:30. I remember only very few locations on the way. One of them was Gole Market. And then there was a massive Gurudwara close to the Rashtrapati Bhavan and the Parliament Museum. A long line of believers in turbans were outside the gurudwara waiting for what I presume was a free lunch.
We saw huge crowd outside the the Mughal gardens entrance to Rashtrapati Bhavan. Santoshji had no clue about these Mughal Gardens. Amma had read about the gardens being open to the public for a little over a month every year in February and March. Santoshji had not planned on our going there. So he couldn't answer the simple questions that we had like, "Can we take the camera inside?" "Is cellphone allowed?" This pissed Amma off. While we were halted sorting out the matter on the side of the road, a parked car almost backed onto us almost hitting the hood. This pissed Santoshji off. Tension mounted. Amma called the travel agent and told her that our driver doesn't know 'ANYTHING'. An exaggeration uncalled for. Travel agent spoke to Santoshji who plainly stated that he has been driving a taxi in Delhi for 20 years. What he left unsaid was that a woman coming over one fine morning from Kerala had no business passing judgement on him. He asked us what can the travel agent lady sitting in Mumbai know about traffic in Delhi. He told us to go to Mughal Gardens by ourselves and that he would wait in the car.
So we go. The security situation is mind-boggling. It is a miracle that people are allowed inside with their clothes on. No cameras, no cellphones, no electronics, no purses, no wallets, no bags, no car keys, no combs and no pens even. There was a cloak room where people could deposit everything except cash. All the deposit items are sealed till owners return. Assault rifle and machine gun carrying guards all over the place. Yet for some inexplicable reason, there was no check on watches and sun glasses. Why would a security team confiscate pens but allow watches inside? Haven't they watched James Bond or Mission Impossible franchisees?
The procedure is a complete assault on any notion of freedom. Done by the state to its own citizens. The citizens from which it has already taxed and spent the billions in the name of defense and national security. But there is no entry fee. So in a glorious psychological masterstroke, the notion of free is reinforced!! Yup, it is a free country, but lets hold on to your pen while you walk around a garden which we maintain with your taxes.These forbidden gardens are accessible, as mentioned before, only for 40 days in a year. So the rush was incredible. We go through a few more check points along with the numerous tourist and school field trip parties and finally get into the herbal garden. No shady trees in this area.
Small boards planted on the ground to identify the different herbs alongside being cultivated. The information are classic examples of the great Indian"facts". There are no further proofs required when declarations like "cure for cancer", "treats diabetes", "removes stress" etc are posted under the names of the plants in English and Hindi. The Tulsi (Basil) plants get a canopied little green house of white of their own. Huge roses are in bloom at the last plot of this garden. "Notice the thickness of their base" Achan points to the rose plants. Evidently, they are very old stock.
From the herb garden, the crowd carries us to the bonsai garden. Well maintained samples of Peepal, Neem, Banyan, Oranges and more in bonsai form. We confirm that one of the trees we have in our garden back home is a species of Banyan. Amma wants to hurry to the musical fountain. I want to spent more time admiring the tiny oranges, the tamarind and the hibiscus. Amma has seen some better bonsais somewhere. She has the highly irritating habit of mentioning other better places that she has been to while we are standing somewhere else. Achan tells me that she didn't have this habit in the first 25 years of their marriage.
Kumar Sanu croons a patriotic number at the musical fountain. The sound of a few rusty joints of the fountain interfere with the music. We keep walking. Climbing up the stairs lined by sweet pea climbers in full blossom, we reach the Mughal gardens.
The presidential palace, the royal Rashtrapati Bhavan, looms in the background. But it is the magnificent garden that takes my breath away. Beautifully manicured, impeccable arrangement of plants, hedges and trees. Amri Khusrau's famous statement about "a paradise on earth" immediately comes to mind. Justifiably. Set on the sides of two water channels with their lotus fountains, it is a marvel of flora domestication. Amma and Achan go ooh and aah on their way, hand in hand, from section to section. I am mostly speechless. The fountains, the flower beds, the well rounded trees, the riot of colors! It is painfully pretty in the bright afternoon. Marigolds are truly gold and violets and violet here. I had no idea green had so many shades. or that sweet williams could be so sweet or dahlias could so dazzle or that Devdaru and Babul trees could be so shapely.
This place is without any doubt a national treasure. I swallow quietly quite a bit of my tirade against the curtailed freedom. I am glad phones and cameras are not allowed. Otherwise, it would have been difficult getting around amateur cameramen prostrated on the floor with their long lenses. Kids were running as excitedly as the security guards would allow them, anxious show their elders the new flower they just saw. Couples were holding hands and pointing the prettier and prettier blooms to each other. Despite the crowd, despite the sun, despite the guns, romance blooms. Flower power. "Chalthe raho" (Keep moving) the guards tell those who park themselves on the fountain parapets. Guns & Roses.
From the massive rectangular main garden, we move into the long rose garden. We had already been whetted towards the sensual assault that awaits us in this section. In the rectangular guardian, rose varieties like the blood red, almost black china man and the as big as lotus 'first prize'. The Mughal garden has more than 250 varieties of roses. Some of the main ones on either side of the walkway are Christian Dior, Queen Elizabeth, Oklahoma, Pasadena, Lousiana, Eiffel Tower, Pisu Pitambar, Landora, First Prize and the aptly named Bhim.
I believe every heart would beat louder while strolling down this garden. I stand and sigh. Once. Twice. Thrice. It is spectacular. The scent is intoxicating. One from the bunch of young men walking in front of me tells another, "Is mein se ek thod ke diya na, koyi bhi ladki pat jayegi, guarantee" (If you offer her one of any of these roses, any woman will fall for you, guarantee). Touche!
From the long garden, we reach the circular garden. Bougainvillea and creepers territory. Easily over fifty different varieties. I walk slowly behind an elderly couple. Lest my hands naturally search for another to hold in this beautiful setting, I secure them both deep inside my jeans pockets. Achan and Amma take their sweet time. I don't mind.
Hats off to Lutyens, the architect and Mustoe, the horticulturist, who conceived and executed this gem.Couple of stalls outside the garden showcase vegetable produce from the Rashtrapati Bhavan's gardens. Cabbages the size of pumpkins. I get excited seeing a board that looked like "Spiral garden" but on closer inspection it is 'spiritual garden'. No colorful flowers or butterflies here. Just trees and plants that offer spiritual solace, whatever that is, for those who seek it.
Excellent arrangement for drinking water, resting stations and toilets throughout the garden. We sit down under a grand old Banyan tree. It is chilly under it even at 3pm. A shade of centuries. "You may get come here again, but we are not," says Amma. Silence. Breeze. We see an excited child hide under a thick flower bed. His slightly elder sister likes this game. Will roses become simply the merchandise kids are familiar with on Feb 14?
On the way out, we pass by the original circular staff quarters. 24 small rooms in one building. New apartment complexes have been built over the years. The roads inside the campus are named after previous presidents. Obviously, an army of gardeners are required to maintain the paradise on earth as it is. A deep sense of gratitude. A small wish blooms to see Shalimar of Srinagar someday.
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