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a cheap co on
kurta,
a long, loose-fi ing
top, to replace the soaked shirt you’rewear-
ing. Then you walk a few blocks to grab a
table at a branch of the hugely popular
vegetarian restaurant chain
Hotel Saravana
Bhavan (
4
)
. Its enormous potato-filled
dosa
(a crêpe, basically) with coconut chutney is
inexpensive and delicious.
You spend the afternoon browsing
among silk scarves and Kashmiri throw
rugs as you explore the Georgian-style
buildings—formerly government offices,
now shops—that run in concentric rings
around Connaught Place. As the sun
sets, you join the crowd heading to see
the latest Bollywood blockbuster at the
Rivoli Theater (
5
)
, a movie palace that
opened in 1933. You can’t understand a
word of the film, but the song-and-dance
numbers are still plenty of fun.
Dinner and drinks are nearby at the
historic
Imperial Hotel (
6
)
, where you
check in for the night. The place is
bustlingwith fellow travelers. Sipping
Indianwhiskeyat themahogany-filled
1911 Bar, you’re transported to the last
days of the Raj, when this great hotel
opened its doors. Its restaurant, the
Spice Route, is a destination in its
own right, considered by many to
be amongDelhi’s top tables. Though
the expansive menu covers seven
Southeast Asian cuisines, you stick
todishes fromIndia’sMalabarCoast.
The shrimpandfish in thick coconut
curries areworth lingering over, but
DAYONE
| You’re up early. Coffee’s good. A
dip inyourprivateplungepool?Evenbe er.
Eachof the67 rooms andsuites inthe
Aman
NewDelhi (
1
)
comes equippedwith one—a
first for the city. A er an invigorating soak,
you take in the view from your terrace.
Below is Lodi Gardens, where manicured
lawns surround ancient tombs and young
couples go to hold hands and steal kisses.
After a quick Indian breakfast of
steamed
idli
(a kind of savory cake) in the
hotel restaurant, you meet your guide/
driver in the lobby. Delhi is a car town—too
spread out and o en too hot to tackle on
foot—and a good guide is the key to avoid-
ing long lines and traffic. You’ve signed on
with Cox & Kings, a company that served
British foot soldiers here in 1758 and has
since become a worldwide tour operator.
Your guide gives his name: Ravi Shankar.
No relation, he says with a laugh, to the
famed Bengali musician.
You’ve beaten the morning rush, so
it’s just a 15-minute trip from the center of
the new city to the gates of the old one.
Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan built what
came to be called Old Delhi back in the
17th century, and the Brits unveiled its
replacement in 1911. Near the winding
alleys of Chandni Chowk, as the old city is
known these days, you stroll up the steps
toward
Jama Masjid (
2
)
. This stunning red
sandstone edifice is the biggest open-air
mosque in India, as well as where Shah
Jahan himself used to pray. As instructed,
you slip off your shoes—the floors are
all marble—and, because you’re wearing
shorts, don a robe.
After touring the mosque, you step
outside, where your rickshaw awaits.
Pedal power is the best way to navigate
the maze that is Chandni Chowk. On foot
you’d be lost inminutes andwandering for
hours, Shankarwarns. The rickshawturns
downone alley and thenanother, cu ing it
close to an ambling cow. Chandni Chowk
is a city unto itself, devoted to nothing but
ON THE MOVE
A bustling street in Chandni Chowk; opposite, clockwise from top left, the
Evergreen Sweet House; Agra’s Baby Taj; dinner at Bukhara; the ancient minaret Qutub Minar
commerce. One street sells only silk saris;
others, silver jewelry, ornate stationery,
even car parts. You stop for spices—hunks
of fresh turmeric, a thimbleful of saffron—
andhaggle to good effect (withyour guide’s
assistance, of course).
On theway into the center of Delhi, you
pause to pay your respects to the father
of modern India, Mahatma Gandhi.
Raj Ghat (
3
)
, a black marble shrine with
an eternal flame, marks the spot where
he was cremated. Even swarming with
schoolchildren, it’s a serene place for
reflection—at least until the sky opens up.
Rain showers can come fast and furious
in Delhi, and this one sends shoppers and
merchants alike scrambling for shelter.
Some find it; others don’t. You don’t.
Fortunately, it’s over quickly.
Before lunch, youhit the open-
air stalls just offConnaught Place,
Delhi’s Times Square, andpickup
YE OLDE BALL GAME
A British import remains a fan favorite
Cricket has been a national obsession in India for well over a
century. Though a match can last for days, you can pop in for
a while to soak up the flavor (if not a full understanding) of
the sport at the Feroz Shah Kotla cricket stadium. The Delhi
Daredevils, the city’s Indian Premier League team, play home
games on the pitch here. Keep an eye out for the cheerleaders
on the lawn and the Bollywood stars up in the rafters.
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MARCH 2012
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