Chandigarh

Chandigarh was a delight. This carefully planned, grid-based city, has a number of open gardens and playgrounds on every block. It was overcast and cold with an occasional drizzle when I was there; I felt like I was in Europe.

Many of the locals were well-built. I was mildly troubled when I urinated, as the urinals were fixed higher than they are in other parts of the country, indicating that the height of men here is above the Indian average. However, the poor migrants working on the streets were visibly poorer and had comparatively slender builds.

I visited the Rose Garden and Nek Chand’s Rock Garden. The grey skies made the rocks all the more grey. Without much sunlight to highlight the features of sculptures, the feel was cold and austere. And that’s exactly why it was so wonderful. It was so not Indian. The "garden" did not depend on bright colours, but on sharpness, size, and the repetition of coarsely shaped elements for its impact. It is a strange, surreal but natural landscape made of man-made objects and materials.

I felt sad to leave the city as we drove back to Delhi. It’s very clear where Chandigarh ends; suddenly the organization and green spaces are gone.