Nice morning to get up in Shimla and take a farewell view of the Himalaya before I head back down into the plains and heat. Oh, those monkeys. Heard a loud noise at the window this morning and turned around to see a small monkey looking over the window sill; had I not been here, it would have been rummaging around the room, sans doute. Chased it away and watched a couple of flocks of parrots screech by before getting down to the car.
Just how high was I here? We drove down and down and down. Half the day. The usual parade through different vegetation zones, this time even past eucalyptus and to the flat, Deccan plain. Good bye, Himalaya; hello, hot. Have to say I was more than a little sad to leave the mountains. It was so nice up there…cool and just left alone to wander around.
There is good news on the way to Chandigarh, though – I stop by a restored Mugal garden, Yadavindra Garden. 17th century.
Yadavindra is yet another gem tucked away in the most unlikely place. Outside is some loud, tacky, carnival-like stuff, but you pay the 25-cent entry, and you’re back in an over-the-top
time. I can see the link between the garden where Humayun’s Tomb is and this one. Both are symmetrical and rectangular, and both have a building as the focus. Here, you walk into the garden and come to a long, flowing pool that drops a level and leads to a large, delicate, gazebo-like structure where some people are sleeping out of the heat. There are tall palms on either side of the walks that flank the pool, and behind them groves of fruit trees (mango and something I don’t know). When you come to the covered platform, a delight awaits you as you see five more layers of pools, structures and groves below you. You can’t beat a Mugal garden.
I stayed in the garden for nearly two hours, walking in the various fruit groves and hibiscus plantations and resting at different little gazebos set throughout. Everything was tightly symmetrical, but the garden didn’t have the rigid feel of a French garden, perhaps because of the plants. For example, while I was walking the along the central pool on one level, I noticed two trees symmetrically placed on opposite sides of this axial pool. They were equally distant from the axis and in the middle of groves of other trees. They were the size and shape of live oaks – far taller than the surrounding fruit trees – and were covered in crimson blooms the size of a softball; each had a lounging platform around and under it. A French garden would not have used such large, rambling trees; French gardens feel more clipped and linear, while this one, symmetrical though it may be, is shaggy and symmetrical. It was delightful sitting in the heat
under the large, scarlet canopy of these trees, and I spent time with both of them.
I wonder about the planning and history of this garden. One source says the garden is 300 years old, and the other says it dates back to the days of the Mahabarata epic, when Pinjore (then called Panchpurra) was discovered by the Pandavas, the good gods in that ancient work, during their 12 years in exile. Even when restored to their empire, they would come back here….until they finally vanished into the Himalayas. I like the 1000 BC version of the history of the garden, but there’s more documentation for Mugal architect Fidai Khan’s hand in the design and execution.
Whichever, my point is still this: what kind of vision does it take to plan and create a garden that uses such slow-growing things as mangoes and live oaks? There are ample hibiscus in the garden, so do you plan the long-term garden and overlay that with the more immediate view? Do you use a lot of shrubs and bushes until the larger plantings are established? What a wonder it is to see such a fantastic design in its maturity; how fortunate I was to be able to wander in an environment Khan would never see fully realized.
We were only ten miles out of Chandigarh, so I eventually relented and got back to the Ambassador to head on. Thinking of grandiose, long-term planning, I was looking forward to seeing Le Corbusier’s fifty-year-old planned city.
India seems to excel at experiments with planned cities, and there are lots of ruins to testify to the fact that such planning doesn’t always work; at least two emperors tried unsuccessfully to create cities. Le Corbusier’s city, though, seems to be working so far.
This is one of the BIG IDEAS that the 50s had for the developing world – create a perfect area (in this case, a city) with wide avenues, lots of trees and gardens, logical zoning of housing and work. I’ve seen these in places before – Nairobi, Dakar, Addis Ababa, Lusaka – and they end up as dirty, dusty places with sewage running down the middle of the street and poor people living in the parks, traffic circles and road medians…, usually after they’ve cut down the trees Chandigarh hasn’t gone that way at all. The city is lovely. There are wide, four-lane streets with tree-lined medians, and the sidewalks and bike paths are respected and used, the bike paths by rickshaws. The city is impeccably clean, and people actually obey the traffic signals and even, to some extent, stay in their lanes. And very few drivers use their horns. It’s green, clean, organized, logical and comfortable. Aside from the fact that the city really demands you use a car (or maybe bus), I don’t see any downside to it at all. I’d later notice that Indians like it so much that they’re replicating the zoning and other planning features elsewhere in the country.
Chandigarh is so comfortable and spacious that I had no trouble finding a hotel. Because the city is a government center, there are lots of them, and they aren’t too expensive (for me, anyway). Found a nice one and checked in. Also, had the distinct impression that Bharat was planning to sleep in the car, which made me wonder if he’s been doing that all along. It’s so very common to find public places to bathe, that I now wonder if he’s been sleeping in the car all along to save money. The heat in the parking lot in Chandagarh was just stifling, and can’t imagine not being
able to get to some AC.
Well, I’m paying a lot of the car, and that’s supposed to provide a hotel allowance for him (I was assured that), so it’s Bharat’s choice. Me, I took a nap. In AC. Bharat was at the car and ready to go at the appointed time, and we went to the Rock Garden. Honestly, I wasn’t at all enthused about going. It sounded like a space created by and Indian engineer who liked miniature trains or something like that. However, all that I read said it was a must-see, so I got my sweat hankie and allowed myself to be taken there.
I am so glad I went! What a fantastic place this is! When I first entered, there was a wall made of hundreds of electrical insulators that then broke before the wall continued as stacks of spherical clay pots. Wow, I thought, his is like Finster, only with a lot more awareness of texture and form! Pretty soon I was going through entire environments, some as high as three or four stories, with waterfalls, pavilions, bridges and resting nooks. Throughout there were echoes of Mughal gardens, Thai architecture, and, most strikingly, contemporary art. As I proceeded through the garden, the spaces just got bigger, more spectacular, more wonderful and more engaging. I was simply in awe at being in such a fine, art environment. And a garden, again. I spent three wonderful hours here and would go back at the
first occasion I could. I definitely want to learn more about the artist, Nek Chand.
However, if I ever get to go back, I want it to be in the winter. The heat really took it out of me, and when I got to the hotel, I took a cold shower and went to bed without eating because I was so tired.
Just how high was I here? We drove down and down and down. Half the day. The usual parade through different vegetation zones, this time even past eucalyptus and to the flat, Deccan plain. Good bye, Himalaya; hello, hot. Have to say I was more than a little sad to leave the mountains. It was so nice up there…cool and just left alone to wander around.
There is good news on the way to Chandigarh, though – I stop by a restored Mugal garden, Yadavindra Garden. 17th century.
Yadavindra is yet another gem tucked away in the most unlikely place. Outside is some loud, tacky, carnival-like stuff, but you pay the 25-cent entry, and you’re back in an over-the-top
time. I can see the link between the garden where Humayun’s Tomb is and this one. Both are symmetrical and rectangular, and both have a building as the focus. Here, you walk into the garden and come to a long, flowing pool that drops a level and leads to a large, delicate, gazebo-like structure where some people are sleeping out of the heat. There are tall palms on either side of the walks that flank the pool, and behind them groves of fruit trees (mango and something I don’t know). When you come to the covered platform, a delight awaits you as you see five more layers of pools, structures and groves below you. You can’t beat a Mugal garden.I stayed in the garden for nearly two hours, walking in the various fruit groves and hibiscus plantations and resting at different little gazebos set throughout. Everything was tightly symmetrical, but the garden didn’t have the rigid feel of a French garden, perhaps because of the plants. For example, while I was walking the along the central pool on one level, I noticed two trees symmetrically placed on opposite sides of this axial pool. They were equally distant from the axis and in the middle of groves of other trees. They were the size and shape of live oaks – far taller than the surrounding fruit trees – and were covered in crimson blooms the size of a softball; each had a lounging platform around and under it. A French garden would not have used such large, rambling trees; French gardens feel more clipped and linear, while this one, symmetrical though it may be, is shaggy and symmetrical. It was delightful sitting in the heat
under the large, scarlet canopy of these trees, and I spent time with both of them.I wonder about the planning and history of this garden. One source says the garden is 300 years old, and the other says it dates back to the days of the Mahabarata epic, when Pinjore (then called Panchpurra) was discovered by the Pandavas, the good gods in that ancient work, during their 12 years in exile. Even when restored to their empire, they would come back here….until they finally vanished into the Himalayas. I like the 1000 BC version of the history of the garden, but there’s more documentation for Mugal architect Fidai Khan’s hand in the design and execution.
Whichever, my point is still this: what kind of vision does it take to plan and create a garden that uses such slow-growing things as mangoes and live oaks? There are ample hibiscus in the garden, so do you plan the long-term garden and overlay that with the more immediate view? Do you use a lot of shrubs and bushes until the larger plantings are established? What a wonder it is to see such a fantastic design in its maturity; how fortunate I was to be able to wander in an environment Khan would never see fully realized.
We were only ten miles out of Chandigarh, so I eventually relented and got back to the Ambassador to head on. Thinking of grandiose, long-term planning, I was looking forward to seeing Le Corbusier’s fifty-year-old planned city.
India seems to excel at experiments with planned cities, and there are lots of ruins to testify to the fact that such planning doesn’t always work; at least two emperors tried unsuccessfully to create cities. Le Corbusier’s city, though, seems to be working so far.
This is one of the BIG IDEAS that the 50s had for the developing world – create a perfect area (in this case, a city) with wide avenues, lots of trees and gardens, logical zoning of housing and work. I’ve seen these in places before – Nairobi, Dakar, Addis Ababa, Lusaka – and they end up as dirty, dusty places with sewage running down the middle of the street and poor people living in the parks, traffic circles and road medians…, usually after they’ve cut down the trees Chandigarh hasn’t gone that way at all. The city is lovely. There are wide, four-lane streets with tree-lined medians, and the sidewalks and bike paths are respected and used, the bike paths by rickshaws. The city is impeccably clean, and people actually obey the traffic signals and even, to some extent, stay in their lanes. And very few drivers use their horns. It’s green, clean, organized, logical and comfortable. Aside from the fact that the city really demands you use a car (or maybe bus), I don’t see any downside to it at all. I’d later notice that Indians like it so much that they’re replicating the zoning and other planning features elsewhere in the country.
Chandigarh is so comfortable and spacious that I had no trouble finding a hotel. Because the city is a government center, there are lots of them, and they aren’t too expensive (for me, anyway). Found a nice one and checked in. Also, had the distinct impression that Bharat was planning to sleep in the car, which made me wonder if he’s been doing that all along. It’s so very common to find public places to bathe, that I now wonder if he’s been sleeping in the car all along to save money. The heat in the parking lot in Chandagarh was just stifling, and can’t imagine not being
able to get to some AC.Well, I’m paying a lot of the car, and that’s supposed to provide a hotel allowance for him (I was assured that), so it’s Bharat’s choice. Me, I took a nap. In AC. Bharat was at the car and ready to go at the appointed time, and we went to the Rock Garden. Honestly, I wasn’t at all enthused about going. It sounded like a space created by and Indian engineer who liked miniature trains or something like that. However, all that I read said it was a must-see, so I got my sweat hankie and allowed myself to be taken there.
I am so glad I went! What a fantastic place this is! When I first entered, there was a wall made of hundreds of electrical insulators that then broke before the wall continued as stacks of spherical clay pots. Wow, I thought, his is like Finster, only with a lot more awareness of texture and form! Pretty soon I was going through entire environments, some as high as three or four stories, with waterfalls, pavilions, bridges and resting nooks. Throughout there were echoes of Mughal gardens, Thai architecture, and, most strikingly, contemporary art. As I proceeded through the garden, the spaces just got bigger, more spectacular, more wonderful and more engaging. I was simply in awe at being in such a fine, art environment. And a garden, again. I spent three wonderful hours here and would go back at the
first occasion I could. I definitely want to learn more about the artist, Nek Chand.However, if I ever get to go back, I want it to be in the winter. The heat really took it out of me, and when I got to the hotel, I took a cold shower and went to bed without eating because I was so tired.
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