Why this blog is called "Gallimaufry".

gal-uh-MAW-free\, noun.

Originally meaning "a hash of various kinds of meats," "gallimaufry" comes from French galimafrée; in Old French, from the word galer, "to rejoice, to make merry"; in old English: gala + mafrer: "to eat much," and from Medieval Dutch maffelen: "to open one's mouth wide."

It's also a dish made by hashing up odds and ends of food; a heterogeneous mixture; a hodge-podge; a ragout; a confused jumble; a ridiculous medley; a promiscuous (!) assemblage of persons.

Those of you who know me, will, I’m sure, understand how well some of these phrases (barring the "promiscuous" bit!) fit me.

More importantly, this blog is an ode to my love for Shimla. I hope to show you this little town through my eyes. If you don't see too many people in it, forgive me, because I'm a little chary of turning this into a human zoo.

Stop by for a spell, look at my pictures, ask me questions about Shimla, if you wish. I shall try and answer them as best as I can. Let's be friends for a while....

Showing posts with label Viceregal Lodge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Viceregal Lodge. Show all posts

19 September 2010

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breeze, a dreamy day



Small, shapeless drifts of cloud

Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,

With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,

By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud

All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh

With its own warmth and light.



O'erblown by Southland airs,

The summer landscape basks in utter peace:

In lazy streams the lazy clouds are seen;

Low hills, broad meadows, and large, clear-cut squares

Of ripening corn-fields, rippled by the breeze,

With shifting shade and sheen.



Hark! and you may not hear

A sound less soothing than the rustle cool

Of swaying leaves, the steady wiry drone

Of unseen crickets, sudden chirpings clear

Of happy birds, the tinkle of the pool,

Chafed by a single stone.


What vague, delicious dreams,

Born of this golden hour of afternoon,

And air balm-freighted, fill the soul with bliss,

Transpierced like yonder clouds with lustrous gleams,

Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun

Of gilded nothingness!


All things are well with her.

'T is good to be alive, to see the light

That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh

With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir

Among the garden roses, red and white,

With whiffs of fragrancy.



There is no troublous thought,

No painful memory, no grave regret,

To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour:

The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without,

Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget

The morning's transient shower.




Emma Lazarus




22 April 2009

Old, rich, bourgeois, distinguished.





British design critic Stephen Bayley once remarked that "interior design is a travesty of the architectural process and a frightening condemnation of the credulity, helplessness and gullibility of the most formidable consumers—the rich".
Walking into the Viceregal Lodge, you are at once awestruck, exasperated and amused by its interior. If its exterior is Promethean, its interiors are pure Hamlet! If the exterior is about Power, then the interior is an endless chain of indecision: pagan? Jacobean? Victorian? Scottish Baronial? Heck, let's have it all!
The value of economy is abandoned in favour of grandeur, of a sort of unrestrained "look at me" drama! The woodwork, the heights, the patterns speak not only about the forces at work in society at the time when the Viceregal Lodge was created, but also about the intensely social character of the interiors of its occupants.
Rich detail characterises each room. Yet nothing is left to your imagination: it is not ambiguous, or arcane and certainly not mysterious. This is not a world of intuition; and yet, you are transported by the shape and form of the corporeal objects all around you into a world of unique and inexpressible beauty. There is order, and symmetry and a sort of moral comeliness to this building... If the intention is to strike awe in the viewer, it is achieved in great measure!!




4 May 2008

Windvane. Weathercock. Whirligig.


This first weathervane known to mankind probably stands near the Acropolis in Athens, built, it is said, in 48 B.C. The oldest British Weathervane is at Ottery St. Mary, Devon, 1335, which has whistling tubes to make a 'crowing' noise. We have no record of the weathervanes in India.
This photograph shows the weathercock on top of Viceregal Lodge.
I dedicate this piece of deathless verse to this solitary fowl:

Weathercock, Weathercock, up in the sky,
What can you see from your perch so high?
Watching the clouds, the sun, moon and stars,
The people, birds, horses and cars.
I envy you, Weathercock, your wonderful view,
And wish that sometimes I could sit there with you.

15 May 2006

The Viceregal Coat of Arms

The terraces of Viceregal Lodge

The Viceregal Lodge


The sight of the Viceregal Lodge is splendidly refreshing when you first huff and puff your way up the Observatory Hill.


What is the most amazing thing about this builiding for me? The fact that it was desgined and built by the Public Works Department (PWD). The same PWD which has become synonymous with the uniformity of its buildings' ugliness and whose bridges are reknowned for the regularity with which they crumble at the smallest opportunity!

 

But let's focus on Viceregal Lodge. Grand spiralling staircase. A larger-than-large fireplace. Massive wine cellar. Grand teak-panelled rooms. Majestic turrets. Huge kitchens. Dozens of galleries, verandahs and terraces. Mammoth chandeliers. Little bunkers from the two world wars. This must have been quite a place in the days when the Viceroy of India occupied it.



In the late 1800s, this was the only building with electricity and central heating in all Shimla.



This is the place where the decision was made to partition India.
Today, it houses Institute of Advanced Studies. Posted by Picasa
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