Delhi Beat: A mouthful of bliss

Published on Unboxed Writers on 11th May 2011

Delhi summers are to die of. Not for. Come school vacations and Delhiites head for the hills in droves—the middle class to domestic hill stations and the affluent to ‘foreign’ ones. Those constrained by work schedules take refuge in air conditioned offices and homes. Shopaholics abandon the open air markets and head for air conditioned showrooms and malls in air conditioned cars. Street urchins turn amphibious and are to be found beside or inside the canals at all times. Mounds of succulent water-melons and refreshing green coconuts line the roads for the relief of the scorched wayfarers. But for children (and indeed youngsters) summer is synonymous with ice cream!

And when the brand of ice-cream in question evokes the tingle of the most delicious kulfi and chilled rabri in living memory, it is hard to resist in any weather, by any generation.

The Giani chain of ice cream stores is a name to reckon with in the Capital’s dessert and ice-creams market—one of the few businesses that continued to expand unfazed, even in the teeth of the recent economic downturn. And why not, since besides catering to the Capital’s sweet tooth in the most economically viable way, it also felicitously combines the nostalgia of Chandni Chowk’s traditional rabri-faluda and chilled mango shakes with the contemporary demand for chocolate whisky ice cream, a variety of sundaes, mousses and shakes, as well as that for gelatos, frozen yogurts, ‘lite desserts’ and innovations like jamun sorbet for the health conscious.

Over the past 12 years, Giani ice creams have made it from a single (though celebrated) traditional dessert shop in the lanes of Fatehpuri in Chandni Chowk, to franchise outlets in every nook and cranny of the Capital, and into the hearts of its people. You do, of course, have other ice cream and dessert chains, but Nirula’s is largely nostalgia value for the generations of the 1970s, 80s and 90s; Baskin Robbins is for the ‘hip crowd’ and Cocoberry, with its extremely niche clientele, is yet to tap the mass market. The Giani chain, however, has managed to cut across age groups and find universal appeal among the Capital’s ice cream lovers.

It all began in 1956 at Giani di Hatti, nestled amidst the bazaars of Fatehpuri, Chandni Chowk, and still one of the landmarks of old Delhi. It was here that Gyani Gurcharan Singh, a traditional sweetmeat maker from the then Layallpur (Faislabad), Pakistan, set up shop upon migrating to Delhi and started serving his famous rabri-faluda and mango shake. His mouth-watering goodies, made with loving attention and dedication, with the best quality ingredients, struck an instant chord with the discerning residents of the walled city. In no time at all, Giani di Hatti was a household word. And even today, more than half a century later, customers continue to flock to this home of traditional desserts and the most popular delicacy, the rabri-faluda, is prepared non-stop as long as the shop is open.

His son, Paramjeet Singh, joining him in 1989, augmented the range of traditional desserts with ice creams. But not just any ice creams. Taking a ‘learning tour’ around the world with brother Amanpreet, the two scions of Giani di Hatti absorbed the craft of fine ice-cream making and preparation of gelatos from Italian dessert chefs and imbibed marketing savvy in the world’s biggest ice cream market, USA. They combined the two to give to the Capital’s inhabitants, fine ice creams and desserts—both traditional and international, at affordable prices, playing the ‘volume game’ to scale new heights in their business. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Around 12 years ago, on the eve of the new millennium, the next generation at Giani, decided to spread the family business further. That is when, in 1999, Giani’s first branch came up in Rajouri Garden, then a newly ‘happening’ market in West Delhi. To keep up with the changing demand trends, the outlet had a much wider range of ice cream flavours, sundaes, shakes, gelatos, sorbets and mousses.

Says Taranjeet Singh, Head of Giani Ice Creams, “The magic prevailed once more and we realized we could grow really big.” Soon there were franchisee outlets, literally springing up all over Delhi, with the two branches of the family naming their respective outlets ‘Giani’s’ and ‘Giani Ice Creams’ respectively. Taranjeet Singh’s Giani Ice Creams, retaining the rights for the range of gelatos, has also expanded into fast foods such as burgers, pizzas, sandwiches and French fries—all strictly vegetarian.

Today, you literally can’t step out in Delhi without falling over a Giani outlet—all doing roaring business. With these placed so conveniently, business is not as brisk as of yore, even for the ice cream carts making the rounds of colonies on summer evenings. The new generation prefers its consumables in glitzy packaging, and the new look of the Giani parlours and outlets is definitely a big draw. The staff members at these outlets speak to ‘upmarket’ customers in English; and the decor at some of the ‘posh’ outlets is reminiscent of New York’s Haagen-Dazs.

But despite all this, the philosophy behind the success remains simple, the same as that of the founder of the house: ‘Never lose touch with the middle-class customer. Keep your customers happy and the rest will follow’.

To Mamma, with love ...

Published on Unboxed Writers on 8th May 2011.

I don't think we ever saw eye to eye
About anything under the great blue sky;
In fact, as Dad often says:
We were a pair of book-ends, looking opposite ways.

But now, as I see my own child grow
In a mould that I, oh! so intimately know,
I've come to realize so many things
About the joys and the angst that motherhood brings.

And yearn for the days when I'd dump every care
In your lap, and relax, 'coz 'Mamma is there'!
You were my harbour when I floundered amidst woes;
My bulwark against life's cruellest blows.

The one who rejoiced more than me in my joy:
Whose unconditional love nothing could alloy;
Whose eyes showered love and benedictions in my life;
Whose strength gives me courage in my hours of strife.

If I can do a tithe of all this for my child,
My life as a mother would have been worthwhile.

This was written for my Mom in 2003, when I was in USA with my husband and she was undergoing chemotherapy in India. It was subsequently published in an anthology of poems by Poetry.com and won their Editors’ Choice Award.

Delhi Beat: Traffic Snarls!

Published on Unboxed Writers on 3rd May 2011

A neighbour’s teenaged children leave home every evening for about an hour when it’s time for him to come home. Visits to friends, trips to the market, or to the sports complex, are all scheduled around this time to avoid Dad, who comes home spitting and snarling as a result of having battled Delhi’s office rush hour traffic on his 20 kilometre daily work commute, ever since the driver quit his job a month ago. His wife wishes she could follow suit! The situation is worse for multiple income families where almost everyone is fit to be tied by the time they make it home!

As traffic-related problems rise exponentially in the Capital, driver woes have surpassed maid servant laments as the prime topic of conversation among Delhiites (a raw nerve for the commuters as well as for the members of their households), even as ‘traffic-talk’ has become the standard drawing room conversation. The incidence of road rage is the highest in NCR Delhi among all Indian cities, including as it does, numerous instances of street brawls, broken limbs, and not too long ago, even a murder! Parking space is another nightmare that Delhi’s denizens face regularly, be it within their own colonies, or outside.

Small wonder, when Delhi NCR, apart from its own population of about 19 million, and a population density of more than 9000 persons per square kilometres, also houses an extensive expatriate population, and accommodates thousands of commuters from outlying areas who come to work in the city every day. Delhi has a car density of 85 cars per 1000 persons—roughly 10 times the national average, and 1992 kilometres of road per 100 square kilometres, as against the nation’s average of 74! And these figures don’t come anywhere near explaining the chaos that reigns on the Capital’s roads 24×7.


For one, they do not spell out the fact that most car-owning households have almost as many cars as members. The entry of all the automotive majors of the world into India post-liberalization, coupled with the fact that Delhi is near the top in the tally of per capita incomes and has arguably the highest incidence of bandwagon hopping, has spawned an upsurge in car-loans, and consequently, the number of cars. Nearly 3.5 lakh cars are added to the roads of the Capital every year!

Second, they cannot depict the fact that flyovers that have literally mushroomed all over the capital, have merely become fresh points of traffic congestion, not only because of the sheer volumes and numbers being added on a continuous basis, but also because during the peak rush hours, there are usually a couple of broken down trucks/ buses/ tempo carriers causing traffic snarls for miles and miles!

Further, the statistics do not capture the fact that since almost as much of NCR Delhi’s population lives in slums and ‘semi-rural’ settlements as in posh colonies, bungalows, mansions and apartment complexes, the traffic clogging its roads at all hours of the day and night has multifarious, heterogeneous elements, that turn the act of driving through it into a nightmare on wheels!

It is impossible to explain in terms of figures the proliferation of two-wheeler and three- wheeler passenger vehicles, and buses of all descriptions—DTC (both AC and non-AC) as well as private (school buses, tourist coaches, interstate buses and private stage carriages—yes, the rogue Blue Line buses, though officially phased out, still continue to ply nonchalantly, though in smaller numbers than before); not to mention the hoi polloi of cycle rickshaws, bicycles, RTVs, three-wheeler carriers, tempos, trucks, tractors, horse and bullock carts, occasional camels and elephants, construction cranes, cement mixers, dumpers, and tractors with wagons that populate the roads of Delhi. And they could be carrying anything—a load of potatoes or cabbages, a contingent of cars, livestock, garbage from colonies to the landfills, construction material, furniture, or even villagers en route to a political rally or a festive occasion!

All these diverse components of Delhi’s traffic ply blithely at their own varied, merry paces, regardless of frivolities such as traffic rules, red lights, lanes, overtaking norms, free left turns, and of others sharing the road with them! Enforcement of traffic rules seems to be an unheard-of concept (at least ever since Dr Kiran (Crane) Bedi was relieved of the charge of Delhi’s Traffic Police), and traffic cops have a field day, reeling in prime ‘catches’ for their ‘private collection’, especially around festival time. There have been observed instances of pedal-happy drivers brazenly jumping signals, sticking out their arms to pass a currency note to the traffic cop on duty with practised ease, without even bothering to slow down!

Plus, the state of the city’s infrastructure, be it roads or drainage, ensures that the first showers wash away major chunks of the best roads and flood what is left of them, leaving the increasingly congested traffic floundering on waterlogged rutted thoroughfares! It is not uncommon for a 10 kilometre commute to take as much as an hour in normal rush-hour traffic, and up to two hours on a rainy day!

The Metro is already overcrowded to the extent that guards have occasionally been observed stuffing in stray arms and legs sticking out of carriages, to enable the doors to close and the train to move! It is unlikely that the Metro, even when upgraded to its planned 200 km of track length as opposed to the present 100 km, would be enough for the commuter population of the city. The Bus Rapid Transit System (BRTS), which might have introduced some sort of method into the madness that is Delhi’s traffic, failed spectacularly at the inception and may not be given another chance.

The pot holes on the roads would be almost funny, if only they, amongst other reasons, had not earned for Delhi, the doubtful distinction of the slowest traffic in the country, with an average speed of 15 kmph (Mumbai comes second at 18 kmph). It seems wiser to either stay at home or walk to destinations less than 2-3 kilometres away, even if it means tying moistened handkerchiefs around the nose and mouth to filter out the noxious traffic fumes. The traffic travails also seem to have revived some variant of the purdah system, as women forced to negotiate the roads on foot muffle themselves in dupattas, stoles or scarves to minimize the damage to their skin and hair.

Delhi is crying out for better road infrastructure, a much larger Metro network and stringently enforced traffic rules. The vocabularies of those who drive regularly on the roads of the Capital are generally among the most colourful in the world, and it is not hard to see why!