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Next, we were given a glimpse of the official buildings of the new capital built by the British, in the closing years of their rule, in an oddly pleasing blend of traditional Indian and classical Western architecture. The broad avenues and long vistas now provide a splendid setting for the national festivals of independent India.
Then we were carried on to Rajghat. where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated and is fittingly commemorated by a plain marble slab, placed among green lawns, severely rectangular pools and glowing flowerbeds. It struck me that, on that spot, no Indian—or foreigner for that matter—could fail to feel a sense of the man's greatness.
From there we went on to the old city, beginning with the Red Fort, residence of Mogul emperors and scene of some of the bloodiest episodes of what the British call the Indian Mutiny. As the fort is a military station, one cannot go inside but only .look up at the massive ^fortifications crowning a long escarpment. I realized sadly (fhat. with the encroachment } of modern life and the size of the city lying below the fort, I could not visualize on the \pot the scenes of heroism and horror , that I had read about.
Our last stop was the Jama Masjid mosque, the largest mosque in India. I believe, Vsaid to be capable of holding tl6,000 worshippers. Close by is the beginning of Chandni Chouk, which has been for centuries and still is one of 'the world’s greatest shopping (Streets. As we palled up at the foot of the long flight of steps leading up to the ; mosque, some of the women in the party asked if there haould be time to visit the i4>ops as well. No, said oar juide; we fmi already behind time. A voice from the back of the bus proposed that, in that case, we should [take a vote as between mosque and shops. At that point, to the amazement of my wife, 1 leapt oat of die bus, unwilling to be deprived
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