Ferozshah Kotla Mosque

We arrived in Delhi shell-shocked from what had turned into a twelve hour marathon flight from Moscow on an Aeroflot plane (the stopover in Tajikistan, where the runway had to be cleared of snow by men working with six foot brooms, had taken longer than expected). New Delhi was a mass of confusion, utterly alienating to jet-lagged travelers fresh in the country. But the next morning we took an auto-rickshaw out to the ruins of the Ferozshah Kotla Mosque, and we found a different pace, and began to enjoy ourselves. The site is now a quiet park, and there were children playing cricket on the fields, and families having lunch. As I sat and did this watercolor, children clustered around me and offered advice, and their fathers came to talk to my friend Matt, and to argue about the international cricket scene. As I drew, a man in a long white robe and a gray and white mane of hair that stood out from his face came to stand in the white doorway that appears to the right in my watercolor. He began to sing, long mysterious notes that rose up over the arguments of the cricket aficionados. I wanted very much to put him into the sketch, but he sang his piece and went away before I could begin.
Qutb Minar Pavillion

There is a marvelous minaret at Qutb Minar, and a mysterious iron post. If you stand with your back to the post and can clasp your own hands around it (behind your back, around the post), good luck comes to you. I was just barely too short-armed to be able to do it. The whole complex is rich with delicate carvings, and this pavilion, purpose unknown, stood off a little to one side. In Bangalore we would stay with a friend of Matt's who studied seismic activity by traveling around India dating temples and estimating the dates at which they had been overturned by earthquake activity--judging by this fragile, leggy construction, Delhi hasn't suffered major earth tremors... in at least five centuries.
Moti Masjid -- The Pearl Mosque

Located in the Red Fort in Delhi, this Mosque dates from the time of Shah Jehan (or Jahan, depending on your history source), the builder of the Taj Mahal. The building's white marble does indeed seem to glow like a pearl (although it is the building's architectural perfection, and not the stone it is made of, that is supposed to have earned the epithet), and inside the marble paving stones are richly inlaid with semi-precious stones. The faded splendor of the Red Fort teems with tourists and crowds of local people. There is a long fortress wall behind the major buildings. Looking down over this wall, one sees a fantastic carpet of activity--when we were there, there were fire-eaters and dancers and crowded stalls selling bright cloth. Shah Jehan called the splendors of the Mogul's complex in the Red Fort "paradise on earth." Looking at the cracked lily pools and the earthwork ruins of the gardens and the imperial baths, one senses a little of the overweaning glory of what it must have been, in the days of the Peacock Throne.
Bull Temple, Bangalore

A thirty hour train ride south of Delhi brought us to Bangalore, well known for its university and hilly environs. The Indian cities that we visited tended to be quite spread out, a fact that can be poorly reflected in tourist maps, so we did more walking in Bangalore then we had planned. Though it is hard to regret this in retrospect, at the time it was quite frustrating. Our venture to see this "Nandi" bull (so called because a great black bull was Shiva's mount) started with a long, frustrating walk and an argument with an auto-rickshaw driver. Then we got to the temple, and met the very kind priest, and saw this great lurking sculpture, hewn from a single piece of black stone, decorated with strings of marigolds and other flowers, and the pain of the walk faded. The priest supervised my putting the triple-fork of Shiva on the bull's head--it was a rather gaudy, ornate piece, and it violated my purist aesthetic about this wonderful piece of sculpture. I was going to leave it out of the drawing. "Put it in," he told me. "It's not right without it in." Grumblingly, I sketched it in.
Later I felt I had been a fool for having grumbled.
Later I felt I had been a fool for having grumbled.
Hazara Rama Temple

The Vijyanagara ruins near Hampi are one of three World Heritage sites in southern India. They comprise a fantastic series of temple complexes that lead down to a turgid, yellow river, and a palace complex (complete with the world's largest surviving elephant stables) that can be reached by crossing a big banana plantation. The bus to the site dumps its passengers out in the remains of a fifteenth century street, the "old" bazaar, with stone buildings that lead up the sides of a gorge. These buildings have been occupied and built into by the local people, who were some of the nicest and most friendly people we met during our entire trip. Lunch is served on clean banana leaves, and there are few cars or motors, outside of the periodic arrival of the buses.
Coconut seller, Hampi bazaar

A watercolor done after the fact off-site from a snapshot. Despite this, I think my picture catches something of the wonderful mood of the place.
Hampi--it was my favorite place in India. The people were kind, the atmosphere was relaxed--and the ancient temple complex was stunningly beautiful.
Hampi--it was my favorite place in India. The people were kind, the atmosphere was relaxed--and the ancient temple complex was stunningly beautiful.
Terracota Horse, V.G.O. Golden Beach, Madras

Lest I appear to have taken my trip too seriously, I close here with a sketch of what "in the flesh" was a garishly painted grinning monstrosity that my eye happened to fall on as I jumped down from a bus. It was so ugly--I had to draw it. As I pulled out my pad and watercolors, I was mobbed by school-children in clean blue and white uniforms (the girls with jasmine flowers braided into their hair). Matt, as always, was wonderful. He joked and laughed and teased them--and occasionally went delightfully stern and English, though not unkind,with those of them who got out of hand (an example would be standing between me and my subject and grabbing at my pens). As I drew; they wanted me to make the horse laugh more--I indulged them--and then they were disappointed when I didn't have colors to make it look brighter. I finished, finally, put up my materials--and the kids pulled me away, en masse, to show me the nearby toy train, with its flashing mini-bulb decorations and glowingly-painted trim.
Not exactly the outing I'd been expecting ("Golden Beach" didn't speak to me of electric lights and concrete!), but--quite wonderful, in its unexpected way.
Not exactly the outing I'd been expecting ("Golden Beach" didn't speak to me of electric lights and concrete!), but--quite wonderful, in its unexpected way.