SHIKANJI IN HOT DELHI

This would normally be known as a double whammy! And in my case also a tad overwhelming.
Murali and I have travelled to Delhi and landed at noon. We are here to attend a reception of a friend's son. Gosh! And I wore a gaudy dress (by my standards) because I think Delhi mein chalega. And I was horrendously awkward. Luckily there was a bar and the waiter hung around our table, replenishing the glass, whenever he thought I was getting dehydrated.
The venue for the reception was the Delhi Gymkhana and so the ambience was a given. The food was good, music was carefully chosen and sung wonderfully, making a White couple dance ever so gracefully. They were cool on the uneven lawn, whereas I was giddy in my gaudy dress.
We also felt different because all the young ones who knew us, just dived to 'paon laggoon' and considering most of the kids I know elsewhere, do not even acknowledge your presence, this was a shocker.
At the airport, it took us some time to find our car for the day and after several phone calls, he arrived in a new Ertiga. Or rather walked us to a very badly managed parking lot, where we had to rush and stow our luggage before the ear drums could be further shocked.
Crowded, hot, impatient drivers honking to make their frustration known. We finally moved away and drove on empty roads. Relatively, considering this was Delhi. It was also Sunday. After an entire patch of steel and concrete and reflective sunlight and AC still coping to catch up, I almost hit the roof. Plus I had to wear seat belt if I sat in the front. The price one has to pay in certain states for driving shotgun.
But the driver asked Murali also to wear his belt.
Slowly the treed part of Delhi arrived and the recent rains have bathed the leaves clean, because from the flight Delhi looked morose, brown and dusty.
There were huge patches of green and the shikanji hand carts all over the place. Also there was a reflective dance of colours with guys hanging all the colourful packets of airy snacks. Like you will get 20 peanuts in a huge pillowy pkt, or 11 chips in another puffed bag. The ubiquitous chole kulche fellow with a standing brass vessel was there.
With the AC now showing its might in the car, there was no stepping out to buy chole kulche, which would have added to the already gassy feeling, because Air India served us undercooked chole with small buns and and an equally undercooked chole and mung salad, with a little sev on top. Kept me entertained and stopped me from screeching when there was a small air pocket
About Air India, somehow it felt comfortable. The introduction speeches are short and there is no in-your-face attitude. Since there were two tall guys, there was no sashaying of young girls in short skirts. Efficiency is their hallmark, but I think they can learn to be slightly friendly.
The tea was delish though served in a plastic glass.
We crossed Khan Market to turn into Hotel Ambassador. A heritage property of 1947 vintage, it has got the INTACH award. Quaint and colourful, their lifts are narrower than a new bride's waist. But they work and the rooms are spacious and airy, with the AC taking time to kick in.
On the Subramanyam Bharati Marg, it is extremely popular, and is at a kissing distance from Khan Market. This entire area has the old worldly look, with gardens, huge bungalows, lots of greenery and speeding vehicles on beautiful roads.
The hotel itself is a combination of styles with Colonial touches, but most of it is Art Deco.  You walk into the hotel to see beautiful and colourful marble shaped tiles and a strong smell of coffee. A lot else is on offer at these cafes.
This is also a wedding location and the food is much talked about. The breakfast was good and fulfilling with very pleasant service.
Apparently they also conduct Heritage Walks (but no courage in this heat), and they lead you to the Lutyens Lawn to feed the pigeons, which is truly cute and iconic.