People watching

It has never been as much fun as it is now

One of my favourite sports – as regular readers will know – is people-watching. I indulge in this while eating out at restaurants, at airports, in shopping malls, well, nearly everywhere I can snoop on unsuspecting folk. I check out the latest fashions, eavesdrop on conversations to get inspiration for this column, and try and spot the latest social mores while I am at it. 

 

Of late, though, I find that I have the most fun people-watching when I am on my daily walks. As I wander through, eyes hidden behind my sunglasses, I can take in every interaction of strangers without them being any the wiser. And when you have your airpods in without the music turned on, the most amazing snippets of conversations waft by as you stride along – I can’t tell you how much fun it is filling in those blanks.

 

What strikes me the most, however, on these daily excursions is how much social media has changed the way we behave in public. Yesterday afternoon, for instance, I decided to take a breather on a bench near the amphitheater at Sunder Nursery. Scarcely had I settled down when my attention was caught by a group of middle-aged women who had been picnicking nearby. Midway between packing up their paraphernalia, the ladies suddenly lined up to be photographed by a passing stranger. But instead of just smiling at the camera, they all struck a typical Shah Rukh Khan pose (arms akimbo, torso bent) giggling all the while, as they made what I can only assume was a reel for Insta. There wasn’t the slightest sign of any self-consciousness, or any awareness that they were in a public space where people might stop and stare at them. 

 

But wait! I took a good look around and nobody – absolutely nobody! – was stopping and staring. And that’s because almost everyone else in the vicinity was in the midst of their own performance on social media. There were a group of teenagers down the steps of the amphitheater who were doing a Tik-Tok-type dance number. There were a few mothers taking videos of their over-excited kids who were careering around on bicycles, yelling at the top of their voices. There were the young lovers folded into each other, taking selfies at improbable angles to get the monuments in the background. And that’s before you began counting the professional-style photo-shoots, with serious-looking cameras and lighting assistants.  

 

So, Shakespeare had it right, after all. To (roughly) paraphrase The Bard, the whole world really is a stage and men and women merely performers.  

 

But what truly surprised me about this scene was how we seem to have lost all our inhibitions when it comes to behaving in public. I remember being embarrassed as a teenager when somebody asked me to pose for a picture. I certainly wouldn’t have dreamed of sticking my tongue out and putting my fingers up in a ‘peace-out’ gesture. As for doing a Shah Rukh Khan pose anywhere where other people may be watching; forget it! 

 

I guess that marks me out as old school in a world that now runs on different rules when it comes to public behaviour. Not that I am complaining – after all, people-watching has never been as much fun as it is now. 

 

The author as rock star

It only ever happens at the Jaipur Literary Festival

A literary festival is where authors come to feel like stars. But when they want to feel like rock stars, they come to the JLF. And if you have ever attended the Jaipur Literary Festival (JLF) you will know why. This is where you will find authors of every ilk (historians, scientists, economists) encompassing every genre (spy thrillers, literary novels, biographies, autobiographies) from all over the globe coming together in the Pink City to paint it (entirely metaphorically) red. 

Last year, I attended as an author-speaker to talk about my novel, Madam Prime Minister, and moderated a few sessions. This year, I was there with my Spectator hat on. And so, for the benefit of those of you who weren’t in attendance, here are some of my impressions. 

• When you are at the JLF, it is hard to feel pessimistic about the future of reading. The place is crawling with young people (some of them still in their school uniforms) who don’t just love books; they live and breathe them. They crowd the bookshop, looking for titles and authors they admire and for those that they have yet to discover. They line up with patient good humour to get their books signed at the end of every session. And they have intelligent conversations about books with everyone who is willing to engage. 

• Actually, truth be told, at the JLF, it is easy to feel optimistic about the future in general. This is a place where the right wing and the liberal wing can debate in a civilised manner; where there is space for every opinion across the political spectrum, so long as it is expressed with respect and decorum. And where disagreements are treated not as mortal threats but as an inevitable part of life, to be both embraced and examined. The JLF proves that civility can and does exist in political debate - even if it is missing in our TV studios. 

• There are all kinds of literary stars  in attendance at the JLF. And then, there is Shashi Tharoor. It would be no exaggeration to say that Shashi is the Shah Rukh Khan of the literary world. And nowhere is this more obvious than here, where Tharoor is surrounded by a ring of over-muscled bouncers wherever he goes, such is the hysteria of the selfie-seekers who hound him. His sessions are always standing room only. And woe betide the author who is unfortunate enough to have a session scheduled the same time as Tharoor. He or she will have to sit in a half-empty hall, while the audiences surges to listen to Shashi. (I should know; last year, I was one of these unfortunate authors!)

• Books are the main attraction here, for sure. But people-watching comes a close second. There is such a cross-section of humanity here that you can be entertained for hours just watching the crowds. There are the grey-haired worthies, who always sit in the front rows and clamour to ask questions at the end of every session. There are the young girls who have turned out in their Sunday best, teetering along on heels that were not made for walking on lawns. There are the journalists, scurrying after ‘celebrities’, trying to coax a ‘quote’ out of them for their papers and digital outlets. And then, there are the authors themselves, trying gamely to navigate the kind of attention they hardly ever get in the real world. It’s as good as watching a show. 

• And then, there are the parties: held in one impossibly glamorous Jaipur location after another every night, culminating in the Writers Ball, which ends the Festival. There is music; there is dance; and so much fun is had by all. And then, it’s time to pack away those glittering outfits, until it’s time to play at being rock stars again the following year. 

Keep on walking

It’s the best thing for your health – both physical and mental

 

It’s something that our parents and grandparents knew intuitively. That it is a good idea to go for a little stroll after we eat lunch or dinner. To their way of thinking, this was the best way of helping the body digest the food, and in the bargain, keep your weight down.

 

Well, guess what? They were completely right on that one. According to a recent study (as published in the New York Times) taking a walk within 60 to 90 minutes of eating helps in keeping your sugar levels down. What’s more, the walk could be as short as five minutes for you to benefit. Just the act of walking is enough for your body to better metabolize the sugar produced after a meal. And the lower your sugar levels, the healthier you will be. 

 

That’s the thing about walks. They are excellent for your health – both physical and mental. And they involve minimal effort and very little (if any) expense. So, as a daily exercise, you could hardly do better.

 

As regular readers of this column will know, I am a sucker for walks in scenic gardens. Given that we spend most of our days in a concrete jungle, there is something so uplifting about spending an hour or so in a green oasis, just taking in the splendour of the trees and the beauty of flowering bushes. In Delhi, my favourite spots are Lodi Gardens and Sunder Nursery, where I can momentarily forget about the bustling traffic outside and just revel in the music of birdsong. 

 

This is not just the time when I can relax and switch off entirely – though I do that too sometimes. For me, this is the best time to think. If I am struggling to come up with a new idea for this column, I head out for a walk. If I am stumped by a particular plot point in the new spy novel I am working on, I put on my sneakers and go walking.

 

There is something about the act of getting my feet moving that gets the wheels of my brain turning over as well. With every step, as I mull over ideas in my head, my brain comes closer and closer to absolute clarity. And things that I had been jostling with all day suddenly become crystal clear to me. No surprises then, that some of my most successful writing happens just after a walk. In fact, most of the twists and turns of my last novel, Madam Prime Minister, clicked into place when I was walking.

 

Of late, my walks are where I teach myself a new skill. Having tried very hard to get into audio books and failed – sadly, my attention kept wandering until I, quite literally, lost the plot – I am now attempting to teach my brain to concentrate by listening to podcasts which are not quite so demanding in terms of plot and characterization. My mind still wanders, distracted by a beautiful butterfly or a dancing peacock, but I think I am getting good enough to attempt another audio book one of these days. 

 

Walks are also the best time for talks. During the Covid lockdown, my husband and I developed a daily ritual. Every evening we would set out for a walk in the park, and then find a nice shady bench to sit down and have a chat about something as mundane as to what to get for dinner or something as serious as our fears about life after Covid. As a way to combat those lockdown blues, it wasn’t too bad.

 

Now that the parks are full once again, walks have become my time to indulge in another of my favourite activities: people watching. Those lovers snuggling behind a bush, fondly thinking they are invisible to all passersby. The young mothers running behind their children as they run off into the undergrowth. Extended families sitting around elaborate picnic hampers. Giggly girls all dressed in their best flirting shyly with the boys who accompany them. Grandparents walking slowly with a cane in one hand while a grandchild clasps the other. There’s nothing quite like a walk in the park to give you a glimpse of humanity, in all its many manifestations. 

 

And your sugar levels will thank you for it as well. So, what’s stopping you?