The path through the bazaar is narrow, but the crowd is huge. There are little shops running along each side, each dedicated to something different: bed linens, plastic kitchenware, children’s clothes, adult clothes, underwear, sweets, chaat. Because there’s such little space, it’s easy to bump into people and negotiating the crowd is the only way to go from one side of the road to the other.
When Danny and I wandered down to explore the lower bazaar, it was the week before Karva Chauth. On that particular festival day, married women spend the day fasting to ensure the long-life of their husbands, eating only when they see the moon at night. When evening comes, women come out in their finest saris, gold wedding jewelry, and armfuls of bangles – some even paint their hands with mehendi like when they were married. They bring their puja thalis down to the Ridge, make offerings of incense and marigolds, and burn candles inside little, painted clay pots, before going to have dinner with their families.
In the lower bazaar, this meant that many shops were selling oodles of bangles, in a rainbow of sparkling colors and sizes. I stopped to look at the bangles outside several shops. I often didn’t stop for very long, not wanting to jockey for space between the crowds of aunties looking for a good bargain. I also knew that most of the bangles wouldn’t fit over my American-sized hands. When I was able to find a shop that had less people, the shopkeeper would be keen to show me the sets of bangles that cost Rs. 250 (US $5) – which doesn’t sound like a lot, but I was looking for a set that cost around Rs. 30!
The shops were also selling the little clay pots to be used for holding candles or oil. The reddish clay was painted orange-red or gold, with the addition of simple designs painted in black and red. I thought they were quite pretty, but I also knew that something that delicate wouldn’t survive the trip home in my bag.
We wandered further down into the bazaar, to the area called subzi mundi – the vegetable market. This area was jam-packed with shoppers trying to find the freshest, tastiest, and cheapest produce at the stalls lined on either side of the narrow path. There were brown-splotched bananas, green-tinged oranges, apples in yellow and red (Himachal is famous for its apples), kiwis, pears, pomegranates, and persimmons. As for the subzi, there were cabbages, red onions, okra, eggplants, potatoes, cucumbers, chayotes, ginger, garlic, daikon radishes, white button mushrooms, and corn. There were also a couple of people selling spices: black pepper, cumin seeds, cinnamon bark, cardamom pods, and others I didn’t recognize. There were more chaat sellers, as well as people selling a variety of nuts and every kind of achaar (a condiment of spicy pickled vegetables) you can think of, including mango and garlic.
For whatever reason, the Lonely Planet guidebook neglects to mention anything about Shimla’s lower bazaar. There’s nothing about the shops, the vegetable market, or even the restaurants. I’m not entirely sure why this gap in their information exists. The lower bazaar is a great place to explore and to become completely overwhelmed by the sheer number of people trying to get all their shopping done. There are some great restaurants down there, too. (Danny and I had a really tasty paneer kofta at a placed called Deepak. Unfortunately, I then proceeded to get a little sick, but I still think the culinary experience was completely worth it!) I haven’t seen a single Western tourist off the beaten track of Shimla’s tourist areas, which I think is really too bad. They’re definitely missing out.
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Happy birthday, Jessica! I wish I could be at home to have a margarita with you.
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