Nobody has ever seen an ugly ice cream. Dressed to the cone, dripping with cream, it makes you want to curl your tongue around its velvety sweetness. A gastronome may well crinkle his nose at the commercially packaged “frozen dessert” but for the multitudes, the choice is simply — cup or cone.
It’s this on-the-go quality that makes ice cream every man’s most public indulgence. It’s easy to unwrap, doesn’t need a ceremony to be eaten and one is forgiven when it drools down your hand. And if you were to think of some smart quotes on ice cream, you’re not going to find any. Because, unlike other food, ice cream is not trying to be pretentious — it just is.
The ice cream’s ubiquity cannot be negated. No town or village or city can be without it. Remember that famous scene on the Spanish steps in Roman Holiday (1953) when Princess Ann (Audrey Hepburn) is having an ice cream cone as journalist Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck) “accidentally” meets her? Or in Sai Paranjpye’s Chashme Baddoor (1981), where Deepti Naval orders tutti-frutti ice cream as she small talks with Farooque Shaikh at Talkatora Garden. Ice cream has always been about nostalgia, childhood, first love, after-birthday cake celebrations, the last day of school, graduation, it’s Sunday. And it’s also about public spaces — our memories of several of them are inextricable with the ice cream.
Just like ice cream, public places too have a way of keeping people first. As Danish urban designer Jan Gehl says, “In public spaces, you are directly present. You can interact with other people, you can watch them with your own senses – as opposed to seeing pictures on TV.” One can’t mindlessly eat ice cream without being present, one has to live it through the senses. Likewise, a good public place allows you to sit lightly, makes you oblivious of the surroundings, puts that smile on your face and doff your hat at those who watch you occupy that space — even as you indulge in a frozen dessert or an ice lolly. Until the photos of the before-after of the redevelopment of Kartavya Path stared us in the face, we never noticed that the lawns were balding, that the mud paths were grubby or that the dustbins were so ungainly. Dilliwalas were there at India Gate to merely breathe in the open, to celebrate togetherness — and yes, for the ice cream.
So, when the proposal for the redevelopment of Central Vista was finally made public and many raised objections, one thing that would be duly considered, we were told, was to preserve the Dilliwalas’ love for ice cream.
What was once an imperial city has made way for the path to duty. Incidentally, when the British planned for a new Capital, it would “draw legitimacy from the remnants of the empires of the past”. They built the Viceroy’s House, the Secretariat, the processional carriageway, with the main avenue pointing to Indraprastha, one of the seven oldest cities, and the Cathedral Church of the Redemption towards the south.
This alignment and unity will take on a new form with the redevelopment, and acquire a new flavour. Will the ice cream taste the same?
There are four primary ingredients to the ice cream — milk and cream, egg yolks (or not), sugar and air. Yes, air. It’s well-whipped cream that gives it a pillowy texture. Commercial processing has numerous layers to it, which includes adding preservatives and flavours, but you know a real one by its cream. No, not the vegetable oil, just good, honest cream.
The cream of India’s democracy – the President, the Prime Minister and the Vice President – symbols of political power, have their homes and offices there, with the War Memorial and Museum providing the yolk of military might. By installing the statue of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose under the canopy at India Gate, as a “replacement” for the statue of King George V, the sweetness of nationalism enters the mix. Lastly, not so far in the distance, forming a straight line all the way to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, is the Akshardham temple dome, and with this air of religion, the recipe is complete for a new flavour called India. If German poet-statesman Goethe famously said, “architecture is frozen music”, here’s hoping we all like the sound of it.
Lastly, one can’t go without talking about the add-ons. To soften the blow of the imperialist agenda, the British used art “exclusively to implement their so-called social mission in India”. Today, we have fountains and paved pathways. If we agree that it’s the natural fruits bits and nuts that make the dessert a success, so do manicured lawns and state-of-the-art lights. End of the day, it’s just flavouring. The big four, those are the real deal.
shiny.varghese@expressindia.com