– ० – १ – २ – ३ – ४ – ५ – ६ – ७ – ८ – ९ – १०–
Leaving Mumbai isn’t easy. I don’t mean that in a sentimental way, though years of nostalgia can certainly make it feel like it. No, I mean it’s literally not easy. The city is a labyrinth of narrow streets all somehow jammed with traffic. From our hotel, nestled all the way at the tip of Bandra peninsula, the ride out was a meandering affair through the familiar neighborhood’s streets: past Mannat, the I ♥ Bandra sign, Lilavati Hospital, and briefly onto the sprawling Western Expressway, before things got really crowded on Bandra East streets. (Aside: this shiny, built-up area full of banks and modern government buildings was (until recently) one of the only areas in all of India with Google Street View coverage!)
It’s kind of incredible how such a nice area can transition instantly into a view of a garbage-filled river. The Mithi, just south of Bandra East, flows from a series of lakes inside Sanjay Gandhi National Park, past numerous slums and underneath Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport (yes, underneath), and noted in my last post as the likely source of a questionable smell, looks even worse in the daytime. I’m no stranger to this kind of sight, and it won’t be the last in this very narrative, but every time it makes me sad. Water is resource number one, people. Keep it clean.
Traffic didn’t let up at all. It was bumper to bumper all the way out, which allowed me time to notice a bunch of fun quirks of the area. It was obvious that the construction projects in this part of the city weren’t limited to new rail lines. A brand-new flyover and highway interchange were in progress above the packed surface street we were on. On the side of the road, at one point, I saw a restaurant called “Foodway,” with a logo suspiciously similar to that of Subway. Nearly fooled me for a second there! (Not.) The whole way was basically just commercial slums in front of residential slums, places where you’d crawl over rubble just to get a cheap meal. Of course, the construction here probably only exacerbated the appearance.
After a time, we turned onto another highway road, this one suddenly becoming surrounded by shrubbery and power lines. In fact, we were coming up on a bridge, the Vashi Bridge, a slow one for cars only. And I could see why. On the right was a taller, more modern steel-supported bridge for the inbound traffic. The one we were on, though, seemed to be made of wobbly, melting concrete. The guardrails were warped. The road surface was undulating. On the left, what looked like a temporary metal guardrail was the only thing between us and the water of Thane Creek below. I sure hope they replaced that bridge by now because man, I can’t imagine how much longer than thing can last under daily commuter traffic. (Fact check: yes, they have already closed this bridge to traffic and are building another crossing here. Thank goodness!)
Once across Thane Creek, we were officially out of Mumbai, and into… Navi Mumbai. A new, wonderful, modern city that is being designed and built to ease congestion and overcrowding in its more famous, more interesting neighbor. It couldn’t have looked less remarkable. It was still extremely hazy here, so I tried to keep my eyes peeled for anything of note. Architecture, skyscrapers, a shiny new downtown, anything with the appearance of culture. I found nothing. I’m sure what you get in Navi Mumbai is a relatively clean, somewhat cheap, and car-centric lifestyle, away from the slums (mostly), and outside of the bustle of the Mumbai peninsula. I bet there are millions who would take that if they could. It’s not for me though, and I’ve spent a chunk of my adult life getting further from places like that. But I digress. It seems to be a huge priority of the national or regional governments to prop this place up, and I regularly keep an eye on massive local infrastructure projects like the Trans Harbour Link and the sprawling new D. B. Patil International Airport, set to open very soon.
After rounding the Khargar Hills, and as Mumbai long faded into the smoky air to the west, we were officially out of the city. From here, it was a long highway ride up the hills toward Pune. We passed through several tunnels as the terrain got browner, and the hills in the distance grew closer. Those hills, by the way? The Western Ghats – the very same mountains I’d retreated to years earlier, albeit a few hundred miles north and not all that similar in appearance here. This time, we’d climb up an escarpment on a set of switchbacks, before arriving at the town of Lonavala, my arbitrary dividing line between Mumbai and Pune.
(Aside: It only occurred to me as I was writing this – the “rural” gap between Mumbai and Pune was the only instance of being truly outside of a city we’d have during this entire trip. Previously, there were instances like cruising through the vast tropical farmlands of Karnataka and those very southern Western Ghats, or along the lush coast of Tamil Nadu that stick out in my mind. But that feeling was definitely missing this time around – compounded by the fact that we were being driven along this route, rather than having the freedom to explore as I did back on the earlier trips. Honestly, I preferred freedom, but that was a different time.)
Down below, the thickest haze sat in the valley from which we just rose. Things up here were, to put it simply, more saturated. The sky was bluer, the foliage greener. The sun still struggled somewhat to get through the upper remnants of smog that settled here, but it was notably clearer. Indeed, the clouds that met us at the top felt more like rainclouds than smog. We were definitely in a new place.
Pune
पुणे
ICAO: VAPO
Region: Western
State: Maharashtra
2019 Population: 6,451,618
Language: Marathi (मराठी)
Date: 24th through 29th December, 2019
Slowly, but surely, civilization began to densify. All throughout the drive, condo towers dotted the landscape, as well as various marks of industry and logistics. But it became quite apparent that we crossed the urban boundary of Pimpri-Chinchwad (what a name) when the highway filled with more cars than lorries, the construction resumed, and the towers now stretched numerous toward the flat, smoggy horizon. The giant cricket stadium to the side of the highway helped too. What stood out to me most here was the vast grey, the combination of once-again smoggy sky and rising concrete, punctuated by progress: colorful plaster, glass, and shiny signage. Hope for bustling commercial centers sprung forth. No doubt, progress had been rapid in this area, and I’m sure it’s unrecognizable today compared to four years ago.
After we passed the expansive Aundh Military Station, decorated by a seemingly infinitely long, beautifully muraled wall, we finally reached the official boundary of the city, the Mula River. Pune is quite different across the river. The tall, bleak grey is replaced with trees. One thing I absolutely love about Indian cities is the sheer number of trees, at least in the “less dense” areas. It wasn’t just the street we were on either – deep down the side streets, into larger blocks for schools, universities, parks, all kinds of green bloomed. Speaking of green, there seemed to be a concerted effort, relatively ineffective as it might appear at times, to beautify and clean Pune into an eco-friendly city. More muraled walls along this street provided hopeful messages of environmentalism, like creating a healthy place for animals, keeping waterways garbage-free, and reducing carbon impacts. There were even bike lanes on this particular street, though the dense car traffic still dominated the culture here.
That said, we also drove by the main Pune Railway Station and, as we already know, trains are important here in India. Second only to China in sheer passenger volume, it’s no surprise that in a place where cars, while incredibly common, are not necessarily affordable or even practical for a massive subset of the population, rails are the preferred method for even short-distance transport. There are lines and stations everywhere, and as we’ll see, these networks are only expanding.
We kept getting deeper and deeper into the Pune jungle, when we finally reached the Cantonment Area, effectively a sprawling barracks and center of command. Eagle-eyed readers may remember that Agra Cantt, the main train station in Agra is located in one of these very areas and, like here, provided a vastly different urban experience than the typical streets of an Indian city. It was so different, in fact, that we needed to pay a small fee just to enter. There was no gate, mind you, just a guy standing on the road flagging cars down. We were in an Uber, though, so maybe they don’t care so much if nobody has direct proof of needing to be there.
The Cantonment is interesting. The buildings are spread out far more than elsewhere, and many are larger, usually brick structures, with subtle Indian flair to them. There are also statues everywhere, including in the middle of the street. My favorite, though, are the guys in full gear, painted to be lifelike, flanking the entrance of the Southern Command Headquarters, with weapons drawn and screaming at traffic. I get the sentiment, but they’re far funnier looking than intimidating, even if they are standing next to (I assume) actual tanks.
Before we got there, and we were so close, we crossed over two sets of railroad tracks. I believe this was my first time experience a grade crossing in India, and boy were they intriguing. People just hang around by the train tracks, and cars slowly pass over the bumpy rails at a pace not conducive to evading an oncoming train. The crossing guards and lights seemed slightly inadequate, but if it works, I guess it’s fine. (I’m thinking it probably doesn’t always work.) We’ll come back to these crossings later…
The final stretch of road was a bustling commercial road, probably the center of the community we were now in, called Ghorpadi. At long last, we turned off the main road into a private residential area, behind a gate and several speed bumps. We got in at around 3:20 pm, the drive taking about 4 hours in total. The cab dropped us in front of a spartan, glass-walled lobby, beneath a seven-story condo tower. The daylight bulbs, tile floors, and slightly smudged white walls couldn’t have been more Indian. Up to the 4th floor, to the apartment on the right, we were greeted by the smiling faces of my girlfriends’ parents. I’d met them a few times before in San Francisco but obviously this was my first time at their home. They warmly welcomed us home and showed us around to our room. The flat was compact and cozy, with three bedrooms, two baths, a relatively spacious living room and a kitchen annex off toward the side. One of the bedrooms was clearly reclaimed from an outdoor space, while the main bedroom sported a balcony, which would rapidly become one of my favorite spots to linger. Our bathroom was… bizarre. Like most Indian bathrooms, the shower and toilet were one space, however, in this space was installed a shower box unit contraption thing, where you step inside to bathe before the hot water runs out. I guess it beats getting the entire room wet!
Train horns blared in the distance. From the balcony, I had a great view of… nothing. An empty lot behind which were some low houses and distant condo towers. But between them ran a heavily-trafficked rail line, the one we just drove over in fact. I couldn’t resist running out there whenever I heard a train coming.
Lunch consisted of some dal with roti and an orange. Light, refreshing, and tasty. Despite being Day Five of this trip, residual jet lag and the drain of sitting in a car led me to retreat into the spare bedroom for a long, relaxing nap afterward. Living in San Francisco, a breezy but warm afternoon is hard to come by. During my travels throughout India, I’ve found no shortage of days like this. Pune’s relatively cooler environment hit the exact spot between needing a blanket and muggy, sweaty heat, that makes these naps so delightful. Like a slightly warmer Bangalore, where too the naps came easy.
In the evening, in what would be a recurring theme of our time in the suburban condo towers, we ordered delivery dinner from Zomato. I got some decent dumplings and we spent the night on the couch watching John Mulaney’s brand new special The Sack Lunch Bunch. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this:
My wife and I still quote this all the time.
After the parents went to sleep, we switched over to the new season of The Expanse. Well, it was new back then; as I write this now, the show’s been finished for a few years now… In the dark room, we both fully absorbed into the gloomy landscapes of Ilus when —
Surprise! Power outage! When that happens, and it evidently happens a lot here, a UPS kicked in and an indicator light shone brightly in the hallway. This wasn’t my first time experiencing a blackout in India, nor was it the first time I saw an apartment with a UPS for such situations, but this was the first seeing one in action. With an unstable power grid, it proved quite valuable.
Until we could get the TV back, all we could do was sit there and listen to the dogs and random booms punctuating the cool night air in Ghorpadi. The outage though was pretty minor, barely an inconvenience. After wrapping up with a pair of episodes, we headed off to bed. The next day was shaping up to be more eventful – it was Christmas, after all! Time to actually get out and see what Pune was all about.
Christmas morning! Not my first abroad. Heck, not even my first in a tropical-ish climate coincidentally enough, but even weirder here since India’s not exactly a Christian country. Unlike my previous quest in Peru, this one was going to be a bit more relaxed. On the schedule today was some light “Christmas” shopping, and that’s about it. Having spent the last few days jetting around Mumbai, as well as sitting in a car for four hours, it would be best for the sanity to keep it light and simple. Likewise for my diet – a light breakfast of toast and tea was all I wanted right now.
Outside, some kind of prayer sound carried on the hazy air. It was very smoky and smelled like a wildfire, but I don’t know if that’s something that happens around Pune. I’d say it’s also unlikely that the smoke that socked in Delhi would have drifted this far south, but living in California, I’ve seen firsthand how fires in the Pacific Northwest can choke San Francisco. At least for today, the air quality here was worse than we’d seen in Mumbai, and that’s really saying something.
Before we headed out, the doorbell to the flat rang. The most ridiculous, melodic, chiptune-adjacent doorbell you’ve ever heard. I almost had to keep from laughing it was so unexpected. In walked a girl who must have been like thirteen. I was confused, but apparently, she was the maid for the day. I guess the regular help was off for Christmas. She was so young though – it didn’t feel right to me that she would have this kind of life already. The caste system really sucks for those at the bottom…
Anyway…, it was finally time to get out and see what Pune was all about. What better place to go than a thriving commercial strip on the edge of the cantonment area? So we hailed a cab to the apartment and went on our way, sneaking out the back alleys between condominium towers. Our destination was, where else, MG Road. As I’d come to know over my travels, the street named after the very founder of the nation was often a hub of commercial activity. When we arrived, we were dropped off on the side of the six-lane arterial road, with a fence divider in the middle, and absolutely no crosswalks to get us across to the supermarket. When in India, though, always do as the Indians do. Without hesitation, except to avoid traffic of course, we Froggered our way to our destination.
Dorabjee’s is a nice little store, though by American standards, it’s nothing really to write home about. Inside, I did some quick gift shopping, grabbing some coffee and tea for the family, as well as being led to the secured area in the back where high value goods were kept, to acquire some authentic Indian saffron and chocolate.
Around the corner, we headed into a fairly unremarkable corridor (driving by, you’d never even know it was there); inside it was anything but. Deep in the bowels of this building, the typical road-side alcove stores fold in on each other, presenting a similar view but indoors, down gridded hallways brightened the occasional harsh light and interior cast from the shops. It was like an American mall had been compressed in all dimensions but the vertical. We did some light scouting for stores to return to at a later time.
We then stopped for lunch on the corner at The Fernery Restaurant inside the Hotel Aurora Towers. There was basically nobody else there, which is an unusual scenario for India, especially given the bustle outside. I enjoyed a delicious meal of mutton saagwala and crispy, buttery garlic naan. Truly, Indian food is hard to top when it comes to comfort.
For the remainder of our shopping trip, we took a casual stroll down MG Road, the bustling commercial center of the area. Immediately, a herd of cows rounded the corner, walking right through the intersection along with the autos, bikes, and cars. Only in India™.
I don’t exactly recall if we had an objective here, or if we were simply window shopping. The street was lousy with clothing shops, from high-quality silks, to skirts, sarees, fabrics, etc. I captured some familiar-in-hindsight wedding lehengas on display in storefronts in my photos. Not for a few years… but speaking of:
Our last stop before calling a cab home was Saree Niketan, a saree shop (duh). Despite the inside being completely overwhelming with silks of all colors, my eyes instantly zeroed in on a deep magenta and gold saree. This was the one, I said. My girlfriend was like, we should at least look at the rest, and I was like, no, this it is. And it was – we ended up buying that one and my now-wife got married in it three years later! It was perfection at first sight, and made for one of my favorite quick stories to tell about this trip, one that only got better with time.
The cab ride back was momentarily intriguing. The driver kept looking at me with interest in his rear-view mirror, and I’m almost certain he was trying to eavesdrop on our conversation. I of course get tons of looks and stares when in India, but this time felt oddly threatening. Nothing happened, thankfully, it just stood out to me as a bit extra.
The weather was threatening rain in the afternoon, so again I took a brief nap. At home, there really wasn’t much else to do. I scrolled through my phone for a bit, but that can only carry me so far. At night we gathered together to play some card games, specifically one called 29, while I had some more Uber Eats for dinner. I love cozying up with some take-out, watching a great TV show in the dark (more of The Expanse), and spending time with my girlfriend. The only thing that could have made this night more relaxing is if I didn’t feel the early pangs of Delhi belly. Uh oh, it had been a while. At least, for now, it wasn’t an issue. And thank goodness, because tomorrow was for real going to be a busy, busy day!
As had been typical on this trip, the following morning started dim and grey, but warm. The dismal feeling was compounded by latent Delhi belly and the remnants of a mild head cold. Still, a slight cough persisted because of the dirty air. Nevertheless, my mood couldn’t have been damped because this was one of the days I had been anticipating most.
On December 26, 2019, throughout the Middle East, the Indian subcontinent, and maritime Southeast Asia, there was to be an annular solar eclipse. It had been almost eight years since I witnessed the totality of an annular ring up near Sacramento, and just two short years since the indescribably awesome experience that was the 2017 total solar eclipse in Oregon. Here in Pune, we’d be just outside of the totality band, but I still couldn’t wait to see the sun turn into a perfect crescent.
After a light breakfast of toast and tea (again), I posted up on the south balcony of the flat. The cloud cover was thick, so I armed myself with a super helpful tracker from timeanddate, showing the real-time lunar position. Since I couldn’t even locate the sun in the sky through the haze, I had nothing to do but look around and observe the morning life bustling around at 8am. There was always commotion somewhere – from the random stray dogs and cats, to the children at the school across the way, to construction workers building at a nearby lot, and the flocks of birds passing constantly through the gap. Plus the trains, of course. So many trains heading in and out of Pune.
After an hour, we reached the point of maximum eclipse; the persistent clouds made it difficult to discern a notable drop in light levels, but it did feel somewhat cooler and darker. It was still nothing like 2017, where the air got quite cold, and the birds started acting really weird. It took until 10:07am, almost another hour beyond maximum eclipse, to get the first glimpse of the sun. But it was worth it. The breaking clouds allowed me to shoot the partial eclipse without solar filters and achieve a level of clarity I’d been unable to previously. After two full hours there on the balcony, the crescent sun was visible for just two minutes, slightly obscured in a thin pocket of moving cloud cover. I shot about two dozen photos, the best of which is featured here. Bummer about the clouds, but at least I came away with some treasures!
I should also note that twice during the stakeout, we again lost power randomly. So it goes.
We still had a busy day out planned, so without further delay, we headed out onto the streets. The first stop, a visa office for some quick paperwork. Of note on the now somewhat drizzly ride north from Ghorpadi, we passed by Trump Towers Pune, a pair of ugly black towers rising above a typical suburban street. They were completely out of place. I also flipped them off, because that dude sucks.
The visa office was just around the corner, in a giant office building that was half under construction. As the girlfriend disappeared for her appointment, I killed some time looking around the massive atrium at the building’s center, discretely shooting photos of the space. In one corner was a sign pointing to the Schengen Visa office, which instantly made me feel like I was in an international airport. At the other entrance, a different sign offering immigration services for Canada and Australia, among other former British colonies.
After the appointment, we decided to walk down the street toward a mall to grab lunch, maybe get some shopping done, and generally just hang out somewhere that wasn’t the in-laws place. As we headed north past the office building, the side that was under construction came into view. Amazingly, its sleek glass and steel exterior covered a rickety-looking skeleton of concrete and brick. It doesn’t matter how nice these modern Indian buildings look; apparently, it’s always just concrete underneath. Makes a ton of sense, really, it’s just a bit jarring in contrast to American construction.
The mall wasn’t far, and upon arriving, it suddenly felt extremely Western. The name Phoenix Marketcity, a brand of Indian Mall, placed me into the American Southwest, and honestly, the feel wasn’t far off. Inside it was like any upscale American mall; not as expansive or absurdly shiny as the Ambience Mall in Delhi, but very nice. It was even decked out in Christmas decorations! Being the day after Christmas, however, it was fairly empty. We had a nice leisurely stroll around, window shopping and hanging out. One of the first stores we went into, I immediately gravitated toward a nice blue zip sweater, but couldn’t convince myself to get it.
Eventually, we hit the food court for lunch. While there were some Western staples there, I didn’t come all the way to India just to eat at Subway! Instead, I took a hard look around in search of something that looked unique, while also being of sufficient quality and tastiness. Then it hit me: pav bhaji, Mumbai’s own famous street food, from a little non-descript place called South Bombay, was just what I wanted. It cost practically nothing for a bowl of spicy vegetable-y goodness with perfectly toasted buttery buns. I’d eat this all the time if it were available – in fact, it’s probably best that it isn’t.
After lunch, I went back to that one store and bought the blue sweater. There wasn’t anything else I saw as nice, so I figured I might as well get it. To this day, it’s still one of my favorite light coats for San Francisco weather!
Out onto the busy streets of Viman Nagar, I was shocked to find the day had turned hot, with a spotless blue sky. In front of the mall, the main thoroughfare was absolutely buzzing with traffic. As usual, we called another Uber to get us to our next destination, the majestic Aga Khan Palace, just down the road. I was remiss that I didn’t do any research on this site prior to arriving, as it is immensely important in India’s 20th century history, but also they apparently didn’t allow personal photography inside. Like I always do, I started shooting photos as soon as I stepped foot inside the palace grounds; I was immediately scolded for doing this and told to put away my camera. So I did. For about 50 feet until that person was out of sight anyway, then started again with great discretion. The place was too beautiful not to.
Aga Khan Palace was built in 1892 by the eponymous Aga Khan III, a Muslim imam who was instrumental in the early formation of the movement to create Pakistan, as well as served as president of the League of Nations in the 1930s. It was also famously used as a prison to house Mahatma Gandhi and his wife, after his arrest by the British in an attempt to quell the Quit India Movement. I had no idea such a site existed here in the sleepy city of Pune, much less one that I would have already indirectly known of, since I watched the film Gandhi before my first India trip three years prior.
The Palace is immaculately preserved, with many of its rooms converted into museum exhibits, including what I think was a more-or-less untouched version of the room in which Gandhi’s wife died. We strolled along the tiled veranda popping in and out of each open door. The veranda’s arches and columns framed a lovely view of the eastern garden, though its tranquility was pierced by an unfortunate pair of black towers looming above the trees to the east.
In the southeast corner of the property is a small memorial enclosure, inside of which stand three samadhis, monuments containing funerary urns. Two matching samadhis, only a few feet tall and built of white stone, lay off to the side in a brick-enclosed space. These housed the remains of Mahadev Desi, Gandhi’s personal secretary, and Kasturba, his wife. Upon each was inscribed epitaphs in Hindi and Urdu – at the time, I couldn’t really read these so I didn’t fully grasp their significance.
On the other hand, just across the yard stood a slightly taller, solitary samadhi, bearing in plain English the mark “Here rest the ashes of Mahatma Gandhi.” I was blown away. This is where Gandhi is buried!? I was just at the mall minutes ago, and now I’m here at a site of the icon of India’s grave? And it’s not swarming with people all the time? How strange, but very neat! Well, it’s not entirely correct. See, Gandhi was cremated as traditional, but the majority of his ashes were divided and sent to sites across India for their own memorials. Most of these were immersed in the Ganges, but some were buried elsewhere, including here at Aga Khan Palace. And also, randomly, some ended up in Los Angeles of all places. Nevertheless, while I hadn’t been being disrespectful, my demeanor became a bit more reverent in this place.
We spent the remainder of our time at the palace in the gardens, completing a lazy lap around the building, shooting photos and enjoying the perfect weather. While the publicly accessible parts of the palace were generally on the ground floor, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like on the upper levels of this magnificent structure. There were no fewer than three distinct levels above the only one we could see. I especially wanted to get into its fully-windowed tower, at what looked like five stories above ground. The view must be lovely from there.
Minor aside: on the ride back home, we crossed a bridge over the Mula-Mutha River. I was quick enough to snap a photo of some graffiti on the guardrail that read “So much plastic..! Whoz gonna clean that?” That’s a great question. As unfortunately had become a common sight, the riverbanks were indeed covered in plastic trash. At least some well-intentioned vigilante is trying to inspire some sense of environmental protection there.
Speaking of views, as I mentioned the day became sunny and clear after the brief rains of the morning. The blue sky and puffy clouds made me feel much more at home than the dreary, uninviting, ever-present grey haze. The updated view from the flat seemed like a different country entirely – the hills south of Pune were finally visible, breaking up perceived the flat monotony of the terrain, as well as recalibrating my mental compass to truly understand that that view was south, and not west.
Now, for the evening, the big event had finally come. As I alluded to in Part ६, there would be more India stories regarding Star Wars. Well, this was December of 2019, and I wasn’t about to let the vacation slip by without seeing the final film in the Skywalker saga, The Rise of Skywalker, even if I had to do it in a random Indian cinema. We purchased tickets ahead of time, for the whole family, and set out to one of the livelier commercial districts in town for the night. I had just a bit to say about the movie back when it was still relevant.
About the filmgoing experience itself, it wasn’t entirely unexpected given my prior run-in with un-subtitled Tamil cinema in Chennai. This one though began with the national anthem, which was weird. At least in America, we only do that for sporting events. Secondly, as I mentioned in the write-up, there was an intermission. That wasn’t unexpected – what was, was the insane sudden cut during a point that was not at all conducive to a break. I do think more films should have intermissions though; I was able to use the restroom (which reeked terribly of piss, unfortunately) so I didn’t have to suffer a nagging bladder or miss out on the movie. Alas, the movie wasn’t one that deserved full attention, but I digress. The theatre itself was very clean and modern. In the lobby were some minimal posters for a handful of famous Bollywood films, including a couple I had seen! I felt so smart recognizing them.
To cap the night, we went out to dinner with the in-laws, just up the road at a nice Italian restaurant. On the way, I was struck by the massive amount of construction underway for the Pune Metro. Unlike Mumbai, where such infrastructure projects were omnipresent and expected, Pune, despite being a city of over six million people, has a real small-town, suburban feel to it. To have elevated rail lines in the works over these city streets felt totally out of place, but it’s always great to see public transit prioritized.
I thoroughly enjoyed dinner. It’s not often I go out to eat at home, much less to an Italian restaurant. To do so brought back wonderful memories of childhood, and my main course of cannelloni really hit the sweet-savory spot. Usually, it’s a risk getting anything but native cuisine in certain countries, just because they always put some kind of local spin on it, but this met my expectations perfectly. Oddly, though, this relatively fancy restaurant gave everyone crazy straws with their drinks. Just one more quirk for the road.
We arrived back after 9pm. The main road there in Ghorpadi was somehow still buzzing with activity. I was done though – such a long day had me ready for bed. To be sure the night went well, I received a healthy dose of stomach medicine. This would prove to be a miracle throughout the rest of the trip.
Given how lively the previous day was, this next one was dedicated to recovery. The medicine did wonders in relieving my consistent stomachache, so much so that I didn’t even realize how much it had been there until it was gone. The environmental clarity of yesterday’s rain was gone, however, and the smoke from a nearby trash fire gave me a headache instead.
Because we had so much intentional downtime, there was no better day than today to hit up an India favorite, Jiva Spa, for a couple’s massage. This obviously wouldn’t be my first, but for the girlfriend, it was to be a novel experience. I made sure to keep my breakfast light for comfort, having only roti, an orange, and a protein bar with some tea. Nothing too complicated, lest my stomach turn at an inopportune time.
Despite heading out early for our appointment, our ride to the resort was blocked by a train at the nearby crossing. No wait, scratch that, two trains. One even had a cute little caboose! I couldn’t be mad after seeing that, even if we were now ten full minutes behind schedule. It’s just insane how traffic “flows” once the trains pass – the absolute pileup of vehicles and pedestrians waiting to cross the rails congeals with the oncoming blob, making a very slow, probably quite dangerous mass proceeding at a bumpy snail’s pace. More on that later.
When we arrived at the Blue Diamond resort’s Jiva Spa, we were amazed to find it almost completely empty, with only three people working there. We even called ahead to ensure we wouldn’t miss our appointment, but apparently it didn’t matter. To my delight, the experience of the couple’s massage was exactly the same as the one I’d had in Madikeri; the only difference being the relative contrast between a rural hotel complex in the misty Ghats versus just off of a busy street in the middle of a large city.
But that was all external. Inside the room, we were treated to a lovely foot bath with oils and flower petals, beneath a soft dark blue light. Then the full body massage. They really are the best in India. No matter the time or place, I always leave there floating on air, the stress of the outside world gently kneaded away.
We even stayed at the resort for a fantastic post-massage lunch at a place called Latitude. They had an expansive open buffet of basically everything Indian; not like an American Indian buffet, this one was extreme class. A smorgasbord of deliciousness. I don’t even remember what I ate with my mind delirious in relaxation. Something of everything.
Indeed, I didn’t do a single thing for the rest of the day, and it was great. The girlfriend had departed for a hair appointment, so I caught up on some YouTube queue and jotted down these very thoughts of the trip. For dinner, I kept it simple with a plain plate of noodles with a little bit of butter – plus capsicum and carrots. Our nightcap, of course, was even more of The Expanse.
The next morning was one of anticipation. After a breakfast of, believe it or not, roti and tea, we were going to head out to see something hopefully pretty spectacular. Shaniwar Wada, a large fort in the center of Pune, was the “Taj Mahal” of this trip – a large, historic structure, built centuries ago by a lost empire, the focal point of the area, and major tourist attraction. Granted, it’s not quite so grand as the Taj Mahal (what is?), but over the course of this whole trip, we hadn’t really seen anything that scratched the sightseeing itch like the Taj, the various landmarks of Delhi, or the Dravidian and Buddhist temples of South India. This was the last chance to see something of truly historic importance.
Shaniwar Wada was built in 1732 by the Maratha Empire, a central Indian empire whose territory spanned from the Himalayas to modern-day Karnataka at its peak, and who made Pune, then not so much as a small town, its imperial capital in the 18th century. I always get excited to see things like this, because as an American, there’s pretty much nothing in my country that is that old, be it a Native American settlement still remaining, or early European colonial structures. And still, Shaniwar Wada isn’t even that old compared to many other well-known sites in India!
So without any more ado, we were in a cab on our way back downtown. By this point, the route from Ghorpadi to central Pune was old hat – I felt like I knew the cantonment area from home to MG Road and beyond like the back of my hand. The streets were alive in the late morning. I always wonder where all of these people are going, especially when they’re already in the city center. Turns out a city of six million is crowded at rush hour. More news at ten!
The first thing I noticed upon rolling up to the outer walls of Shaniwar Wada, other than the fact that the very walls of the historic fortress were literally right up against the anachronistic asphalt road surrounding it, was the giant India flag flying in the wind out front. I always love seeing giant flags when in foreign countries, and India has had its fair share, from the gargantuan at Connaught Place in Delhi to the slightly less large just outside Bangalore Airport. This one marked the center of Pune with a distinct air of patriotism, flying freely above a statue of a man on a charging horse. We’ll visit that part of the fortress grounds in a bit.
The grey granite walls of Shaniwar Wada are certainly imposing. While not necessarily tall or ornate, they are certainly thick. I was eager to get as high up onto them as possible, once I noticed other tourists there walking around. Speaking of people in the area, the front gate was absolutely swarming with people at 10:30am, and most of them were apparently teenagers. Well over half were girls, and each and every one of them were dressed in a nice-looking, colorful saree. Clusters posed for photos while others took selfies. Was this a field trip? Do they have those in India? Probably, because there were other groups of uniformed children waiting patiently out front as well.
(Aside: Speaking of leaning stuff, while I didn’t know at the time, my Hindi has gotten about 100x better than it was back in 2019. Thus, now I know that, fun fact, Shaniwar means Saturday in Hindi (and Marathi). Why is the fort called Saturday Wada? I have absolutely no idea!)
Now, the main metal gate of Shaniwar Wada is huge and bears numerous defensive spikes. It’s called Delhi Gate because it faces Delhi. That is akin to the Mughal forts of the north, Red Fort and Agra Fort to name two examples, whose main gates are called Lahore Gate and Delhi Gate, respectively, because of the distance cities they faced toward. However, this is especially noteworthy because the Marathas and Mughals were fierce enemies, and using this nomenclature for a gateway in Pune was more of a taunt than a sign of friendship.
Inside the gate was a smaller door, the entrance to the site, and a cramped, narrow path through which the crowd was slowly pouring in. The ticket line and security were in there, so it was especially slow, to say nothing of the fact that, as a medieval defense measure, the second gate in the wall was offset to the right, forming an S curve within. Nevertheless, folks were pushing and cutting the line, I guess in an effort to get into the mostly open and uncrowded space faster…
My immediate impression once inside Shaniwar Wada’s walls was… if I’m being honest, rather disappointed. There’s nothing that really takes one’s breath away like many other historical places in India. From the gate, you’re treated to a view of a plain, yet secluded, tree-filled garden, with square foundations and fountains among concrete paths and hedges. It’s very green; so much so that you can barely even see the fortress walls from ground level. The din of the city was certainly muted here, albeit no amount of stone wall can ever really cover up Indian urban noise.
This was certainly no Taj Mahal grounds; none of the fountains were working, the stone ledges were simultaneously dusty and moldy, and there wasn’t really anything else here. That said, the lawns were well cared for, and it was a nice, sunny-ish day out, so being in the garden was simply a nice change of pace. For real, this is the first time in all of the time we spent in Pune that we were out in a fairly open and relatively tranquil outdoor space.
In one of the corners of the garden was an especially rugged ruin, presumably some kind of lodging structure, next to which was an (inactive) fountain shaped like a lotus. It reminded me a lot of the shape of structures like Qutub Minar, albeit in grey rather than red, and completely lacking in any sort of Muslim or Urdu influence. Indeed, the remaining rear quadrants of the garden all featured similar ruined buildings, some belonging to the Peshwa’s seat, others being generic apartments. It turns out they all burned down in a massive fire in 1828. I wonder what this place looked like before that. It is said they were seven stories tall!
Toward the edges of the garden were many rows of flowers and shrubs, still immaculately kept. At one of them, I saw a random kid peeing into a defunct fountain. There’s always someone peeing.
On the east wall we came upon a door, called Khidaki Darwaza. My now much better Hindi skills allow me to understand that this means “window door.” Indeed, there was a much smaller door (window) inside the larger gate. Sometimes you just have to keep things simple. From here, there was a narrow stone stairway up to the top of the exterior wall. Finally, time to gain some altitude!
It turns out, there’s no railing on the wall, and little more than a bump to keep you from falling off into the garden. Very unsafe! But the view was fantastic, both in and out. Just over the parapet was the aforementioned road ringing Shaniwar Wada, and boy was there a scene below. People, bikes, autos, cars, bustling shops, low tree tops, noise, honking, the smell of car exhaust and street food. It’s one heck of a sight when you’re above it all – in fact, I don’t actually recall another time in all of my India travels when I really got to experience this particular feeling, at least in the outdoors.
On the inside of the wall, I was treated to a bird’s eye view of the fountains, flower formations, pathways, and more trees. It’s a lot easier to appreciate the architecture and design of the fortress when you can actually see the intent behind the layout. But also, also, as a big fan of Age of Empires 2, it just felt great walking on the walls of what is effectively an Indian castle, complete with arrowslits and murder holes!
As we continued our walk to the south side, I believe I found the source of the young, well-dressed people – Haribhai V. Desai College of Commerce, Arts and Science – who also just happened to be in a large group just hanging around its main entrance as well. Was class out for the hour? It was still morning, so I have no idea.
My favorite scene from the wall walk was the southwest corner, overlooking the street as it curved to the east. Something about this particular spot looked like a movie set, or a level in a racing video game. The walls being facades, and the street the center of focus and/or track path. Take a look and see if you think the same. Just imagine those cars flowing along in slow-moving unidirectional traffic.
We finished our brief tour of Shaniwar Wada by ascending to the parapet in the very front of the fortress, above the main gate and in full view of the India flag and court. I couldn’t get enough of the medieval wooden doors, the ornate woodwork in the beams and joists of the roof, and of course, the view both in and out. As its highest location, the majestic Jharokha above Delhi Gate, it offered the best views, especially straight down the center of the gardens, and through the portals and arches to the front. It was a lovely place to spend a morning; I can only imagine what it must have been to live here, back in the day. Wikipedia says a thousand of people lived inside the fortress’s walls at one time… unbelievable.
Once back at ground level, we trudged over to the northern end of the entrance courtyard. Like there had been in front of the main gate earlier, there were yet more young folks posing and taking photos by the fierce bronze rider statue toward the flagpole. The statue was of Baji Rao I, the 7th Peshwa of the Maratha Empire and a mythical figure in the lore of that civilization. I will admit, it’s a pretty cool statue. Again, I’m a bit jealous as an American that we don’t have figures of this nature to memorialize. Just politicians and war heroes… which are kind of the same thing as this, to be frank, but I don’t think George Washington ever carried a spear.
Anyway, it was approaching the middle of the day, so we decided to jet out for lunch, via Uber. Once extracted from tiny, crowded parking lot at Shaniwar Wada, we rode across the still very dirty Mutha River north, our destination unknown. It took us further along the river to the south, then turned off into an extremely upscale-looking neighborhood, reminiscent of the quieter parts of Delhi and Bangalore. Tucked deep on a tree-lined street in this neighborhood, Deccan Gymkhana, was our lunch spot, a fantastic “European” restaurant called Le Plaisir. This place was wonderful. On the first floor was a bakery counter absolutely filled with macarons, while we ate at the open second-floor loft with a view. It was packed in there, but somehow remained chill and relaxing. We ordered a fantastic herbed garlic bread to start, which was delectable, and my main, a roasted chicken breast, served with mashed potatoes and between them all, a small pool of jus, was phenomenal. I drool just thinking about this dish – it was so perfectly cooked; an explosion of smooth, savory goodness. I don’t even remember how we found this place, but it was incredible. Highly recommended!
The afternoon was yet more time for napping. It’s unlikely this was jetlag after over a week in India, yet the sleep came easy. When I woke up, the sun was setting in front of the small sliver of crescent moon. And my girlfriend had donned her newly purchased saree for the night out. And again, I cannot stress this enough, it was the right choice. She looked stunning in the magenta and gold. I never had a doubt.
Once more, we were out to dinner with the parents-in-law. This time, we went to an upscale, I guess you could call it a restaurant plaza? It was a paved outdoor space with plenty of fancy, wintry lights and a crescent of dining establishments on its perimeter. We went to a place called Tathya, which is not there anymore, but it was a North Indian restaurant. I enjoyed the warm night outside as I sipped on a cocktail and feasted on curried chicken and naan. Sure, my Indian food eating habits were still basic as heck, but this was the last dinner of the trip. I sure wasn’t going to risk my tenuous grasp on stomach health on an adventurous new dish!
To close the night, I thought we’d have some fun and do a photo shoot while my girlfriend was still dressed up in the saree. Configuring the light of a typical Indian flat is quite difficult, given the pervasiveness of daylight bulbs and reflective linoleum floors. Luckily, the lightbulbs actually had a soft-white setting you could change with a flip of the switch, so with a steady hand I shot in the much more flattering warm light. I’m not going to share any of those photos here, but there were a handful of keepers!
And with that, it was time for bed. For tomorrow, we’d be on our way back to America.
I was exhausted and homesick, as I usually am by day eight or nine of an India trip. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do in Pune, so I left it up to the girlfriend to set the itinerary for the day. After a final breakfast of roti and tea, we did the majority of packing and then set out once again for MG Road to shop. Back into that compressed mall building, we spent a fair amount of time in a jewelry store procuring bangles and earrings, among other gifts. The entire floor we were on seemed specifically tailored to women’s fashion. By design, it was in the basement. It felt like forever sitting in those shops as we meticulously sorted through all of the jewelry offerings, but we ultimately left with a handful of goodies. Now, it was time for lunch.
It’s no secret I enjoy trying out American chains abroad, though since I vastly prefer local food, the actual number of times I’ve done this is quite low. Well, given the selection here at the SGS Mall across the street was rather slim aside from some American mainstays, we opted for Pizza Hut. Indeed, I could count on one finger how many times I’d had pizza in India, so this was going to be interesting. In fact, I took one look at the menu and decided against it – see, for some reason, the selections were either extremely veg-heavy, or the stuffed crust, which I’d normally jump at, but here for some reason it had mayo in the crust too? I don’t get it at all, so I went with pasta. It was good though!
We took one more jaunt down MG Road, stopping again at some home stores to window shop. The only things I want to make note of this time out were the billboards in the area. You see these kinds of billboards everywhere in India, and it’s never not hilarious:
A bright, colorful gradient. Some colored Wordart-like text. Some image of religious significance (this time, white Jesus!) And like… 90 faces of random dudes. I don’t even know what this is for, other than someone “advertising” the Christmas season. Thanks for the well wishes, 90 dudes!
But then there are others, like this one that I’d seen variations of throughout the Pune area. Who’s this guy, and who’s the wise old nice monk-looking man in the top? The exclamation point was the only thing I could really read, so it seemed like it read happy to me. Well, not so fast. This is a banner for Shiv Sena, a far-right Hindu nationalist party, and the man prominently featured is Uddhav Thackeray, the at-the-time Chief Minister of Maharashtra. Above him, the nice old man, was his father, the late Bal Thackeray and founder of the party. He was also a Hilter-praising Hindu ultra-nationalist, and virulent anti-Islamist. A propoganda-laden biopic about his life came out in 2019, featuring Raees’ own Nawazuddin Siddiqui as the title character. It flopped and received terrible reviews. I feel bad for the actors involved, but it seems the film got what it deserved. In short, he seems like a pretty terrible person and I’m obviously no fan of right-wing politics. Unfortunately, that seems to be trend these days in India…
And that’s all I know about this corner of Indian politics! Stay tuned for more uninformed opinions in Part 10!
Not too long after, we headed back to the flat, once again. Tired after many, many days away from home, I retreated to the room to rest and look through the many photos I took on the trip. The TV and conversation out in the living area had begun to overwhelm my already exhausted senses. Eventually, as the din diminished and the sun set, we went to the balcony to observe our final Indian sunset. The big yellow ball sank behind dark, puffy clouds as birds crossed through the gap between lots.
As I waited for my last dinner of Uber Eats margherita pizza (which was better than it had any right to be, honestly!), I packed my things and got ready for departure. Pune Airport isn’t too too far away, but you never know with Indian city traffic, so the in-laws graciously (albeit, extremely willingly) offered to take us there.
On the way to the airport, we proceeded toward the rail crossing on the way north out of Ghorpadi. The traffic here was insanely heavy for some reason, but this was soon compounded as the crossing guards at the junction came down. I started recording a video – little did I know this would be a long one. First, a commuter train rolled in from the east, its horn blaring as impatient pedestrians pushed toward the crossing. Once past, traffic started inching forward, compressing against the guard. But the guard didn’t raise. In fact, it stayed down for a good six or seven minutes. No sign of trains incoming. Perhaps the signaling block there is extra-long, because it took another minute or so for a train from the west to speed through. And after that one passed, yet another from the east, a full ten minutes after the first. Interesting signaling there, but at least it was safe. When the guards finally raised, the accumulated traffic, consisting of lorries, cars, motorcycles, and random pedestrians, all funneled across. Slowly. Very slowly. It took a good minute to get across the rails, which would spell doom should a train have been on the way. Maybe this is why the gates stayed down, because that did not feel safe. I know railways in India in general have an abysmal safety record, due to a variety of factors among which overcrowding ranks highly. That probably goes for the spaces around rail corridors as well.
Anyway, the rest of the trip to the airport was uneventful. The parents-in-law dropped us at the small departure terminal, we said our goodbyes, and off we went on our journey home.
Being a relatively small airport, the terminal was not at all crowded. We proceeded quickly to the baggage scan area, where, also, it was not crowded – that is, it didn’t seem like anyone was working. The queue there, while short, was not moving. To make matters worse, when my girlfriend had her passport scanned, it returned some kind of error, one that would require rectifying in Mumbai. At least we were getting on the plane, rather than being stuck in Pune for the foreseeable future. As is customary on my Air India flights up to Delhi, I passed out hard, waking up only as the cabin was prepared for landing. I remember it being a buttery smooth arrival at Delhi, and thankfully, this time we were dropped off directly at the gate – no buses!
The terminal in Delhi was smoky as hell. The warning recording at the end of the moving walkway struggled to pass through its speakers clearly, to the point where I discreetly took a recording of it for posterity. I also enjoyed the bizarrely “low-class” British woman on the public address system asking for passengers in various gates to “stay seat’ed for da moment.” I wonder if it’s a way to relate to more common folk, or if whoever selected the voiceover person did not care what they sounded like as long as it was British. Such a contrast to the voice in the Delhi Metro, who was clearly affecting something far more posh.
When we got to our first customs checkpoint, the passport issue struck again. My girlfriend needed to go around to regular security again, whereas I was clear to proceed. I wasn’t worried about missing the flight, just what might happen on the other side while I waited in the dark.
And I waited – at the end of the massive security area in Terminal 3, scanning back and forth across the slowly flowing queues for any sign of her. I tried not to look too out of place as I stood there in the middle of the wide corridor with my luggage, and thankfully nobody gave me a second look. It must have been thirty minutes before I finally spotted her in a line not too far from the center, and without further trouble, we were reunited once again.
Then we sat around in Delhi Airport, a mundane experience that became far too regular for my liking in recent days. It’s not a terrible airport, but compared to major international airports in cities half the size of Delhi, it’s a bit underwhelming. It also sucks in the winter due to “weather,” as I’ve noted before. As such, it’s never a guarantee that one’s flight arrives or departs anywhere near its scheduled time. Indeed, in the future I will make a point never to fly through Delhi if not absolutely necessary. It’s just not worth it.
Eventually we boarded, and as expected once again, it was almost too foggy on the runway to clearly see the wingtip of the plane from the window. Thank goodness for instrument systems on modern aircraft, eh? I’m not really a nervous flyer, but in my tired delirium, I cared even less than usual about ground conditions in Delhi. I slept so hard, and so long that I missed a meal entirely. Eventually I awoke to find us flying east, over China, Japan, and the North Pacific. I crushed my podcast queue with aplomb, drifting in and out occasionally over the 16-hour flight. The Air India 777L wasn’t exactly nice, which, honestly, had been par for the course. Given when I’m finally editing this (early 2024!), there are big changes ahead for Air India and its fleet that have me rather excited. More on that in the distant future, maybe!
As dawn rose over the Bay Area, we landed smoothly at SFO, around 7am. The clean air rushing into the cabin felt so good. I always love the smell outside at SFO; it’s like a cold hug from the ocean, mixed with the earthy fragrances of the native flora. There’s nowhere else like it. Now even though I’m a US citizen, I had to go through customs as usual because of where I had just flown in from. Thankfully, the line moved quickly, despite it being extraordinarily long. “The Inverted Pune,” I call it now, I’ve decided. It was good to be home.
And then, at the taxi stand, I said goodbye to my girlfriend as we diverged back to our respective residences in the city. Unlike how it had been for previous trips to India, we’d be seeing each other again very soon. Like, the very next weekend and the weekend after that, and the weekend after that, until we got sick of each other. It’s been 5 years and that hasn’t happened yet, which is great because as I mentioned we’re married now, lol!
I got home at 8:30am, almost exactly twenty-four hours after departing from Pune. It’s crazy how simultaneously difficult, yet easy these trips are. Twenty-four hours of travel is no joke – getting halfway around the world in a day is almost heretofore impossible to comprehend. I’ll always be appreciative of what we have these days; even with the “horrors” of air travel, it’s still a gorram miracle. But I digress, for the last time.
Back at the end of 2019, I had mused in my notes that I wouldn’t be going back to India for a while. I was correct, albeit for the wrong reasons. With a new job, and soon to be a new house, I had assumed that traveling the world would be something more commonplace in my life. After all, there were still so many places to see and now, the means to do it. Well, we all know what happened once 2020 came around – it wouldn’t be until summer of 2022 that I’d even leave the US again for a whirlwind two-day trip to Mexico City. But, I will be returning to India in just a few short weeks for a wedding and sightseeing. I cannot wait.
That said, I’m planning just one more post in this long, long running series, one that encompasses the non-narrative elements and random stray thoughts here and there that didn’t tie into my stories. There is so much more to say about India and I’d be remiss if I didn’t wrap things up there. So, whenever I get around to it, all of those loose threads will be covered. Until then, I hope you enjoyed reading this, even if it was entirely more for me than anything else. 😊
Concluded in Part १० (दस): Loose Threads
And so he spoke... 