Old Ahmedabad, Gujarat

Jan 2023. Shopping, eating, worshipping and living in the open. The roads of the old city of Ahmedabad were alive and bustling with what looked like hundreds of thousands going on with their lives on the streets as is the way since ever in our living, overcrowded cities. In the relative quietude and cool of the narrow, winding residential lanes (which often only two-wheelers can navigate) every home was busy with work, play and repose. Many slow aimless walks through these lanes, peeping into the homes of regular people, provide an insight into the rhythm of everyday lives. Commuting within the city, divisions of religion became visible even if you didn’t seek them out. My three-wheeler driver, an emaciated youth, navigating through a unremarkable part of the city that looked like any other, volunteered ‘this part of the city is filthy and crime ridden, because they live here. In our Hindu areas, its clean and safe. I try not to pass through here’. Nonetheless, the architecture of everything Islamic was stunningly artistic and aesthetic, a flowering 500-700 years old. It was best represented in the intricate stonework Jali of Sidi Masjid with the peepal and khajoor trees intertwined; two bodies, co-existing. I was informed there were a thousand beautiful mosques at one time. Gujrati food on the street and in the must-visit vegetarian thali restaurants was high on masala and oil, a lot was fried, and not really for everyday consumption. Didn’t see too many fit people around, but that’s the story everywhere isn’t it. The ashram at Sabarmati where Gandhi lived, preached and led his people is empty of the Maha Atma, decidedly soulless. Left me with that hollow feeling that Gandhi's life and message isn't relevant to India today when, to my mind, that is exactly needed the most. I bought  Gandhi postcards and stamp as sovenirs for a friend, I cried within. Postage stamps are a symbol of a past time, like Gandhi.