🇮🇳 India: Delhi, Agra, Jaipur

This year, my family traveled through the Golden Triangle in India - New Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur. The term 'Golden Triangle' was coined by India's tourism department in the 1980s to highlight the cultural significance of the region and boost tourism. Interestingly, it shares its name with a region in Southeast Asia associated with the opium trade. There were so many things I saw that I found fascinating, but I decided to dive a little deeper into a couple of things.

Closer look at parchin kari

One of the most striking features of the Taj Mahal—beyond its symmetrical proportions, pristine white marble, and expansive courtyard—is the intricate inlay stonework with gems that can be found on the mausoleum and surrounding buildings. The decorative art consists of cutting up, polishing, and fitting gemstones into an equal-sized cavity on the marble surface. Held together with some natural adhesive, the finish is seamless - when I slid my finger along the wall I could not feel any bumps. These designs captivate both up close, with intricate floral patterns crafted from so many gemstones, and from afar, with the large Qur'an calligraphy on top of the entrance.

Reading online, I learned that the technique was developed in Florence during the Renaissance and called pietra dura (literally "stone-hard"). An artistic workshop (opificio) was established later to refine the art form, crafting a variety of objects adorned with intricate stone inlays. It is believed that these objects made their way to India in the early 17th century in the pockets of some Italian missionaries, and the local artisans embraced and infused their own native style (though some believe it was developed in India independently).

It is interesting to read about how this art form was adopted by the Mughals to create something like the Taj Mahal. It seems the early adopter of the technique was Empress Nur-Jahan, who at the time became politically powerful due to her husband's declining health and opium addiction, and architected her father's tomb to be covered with parchin kari. Mughal structures at the time were made with red sandstone and the details were carved into the edifice. In some structures, like Humayun's Tomb, white marble was used as a complement to the dominant red sandstone.. In contrast, this tomb was completely covered in white marble, with the ornamental finish of inlay stonework. The switch might've been made because red sandstone is harder so generating designs within the surface is harder compared to the softer marble stone. It was the designs that she possibly saw on top of tables, jewelry boxes, and other items, she decided to use her power and money to put them on her wall of the tomb.

A decade or so later, after Shah Jahan's wife died during the birth of their 14th child, he decided to build a tomb for her. It seemed that Shah Jahan had a taste for architectural splendors and built many structures during his time - he also valued the aesthetics of what was on the building, and employed wide use of the art form. While the inlay designs on Nur Jahan's father's tomb seemed denser and busier, it looked like the Taj Mahal pared them down and used loose and simplistic patterns.

Why did parchin kari get adopted so widely and so fast? When I visited many of the forts and tombs built by the Mughals, the facade and interior walls were often barren. Our guide pointed to one of the walls with a faded fresco and had us imagine what it would look like in its full form. At the Taj Mahal or Tomb of Nur-Jahan's father, there was no imagining required. Even with decades of restorative work, it seemed like parchin kari stood the test of time - the floral patterns or Arabic calligraphy were still visible.

It doesn't seem this technique lasted long: Shah-Jahan's successor Aurengazeb did not feel the need to expand on his father's artistic legacy. With his military campaigns draining the royal coffers and conservative beliefs discouraging ornamentation, parchin kari gradually fell out of favor during his following Mughal empire reigns. The Industrial Revolution didn't make it better either as mechanization was not able to replace to labor required to carve out the gems and the cavities. When the technology did catch up, the style fell out of favor in place of modernism.

The Unified Payments Interface Revolution

During my recent visits to India, I've been fascinated by the rapid adoption of UPI through platforms like GPay and Paytm. It has revolutionized the way people transact, becoming a vital soft power tool for the country. Cash is no longer king, and I remember seeing some vendors visibly sigh when I head to the till without pulling my phone out.

Since launching in April 2016, UPI has consistently grown due to its fast, simple, and free interface. Unlike the peer-to-peer transaction systems in the US like Venmo, CashApp, or Zelle, which don't allow inter-platform transactions, UPI's single interface makes it easy for anyone to pay anyone else. It just works.

However, I haven't been able to pay with UPI yet, mostly because I don't have an Indian cell number and whenever I travel to India I opt for a numberless Airalo e-sim. Not being a part of this payment ecosystem has been frustrating. One such was at the Delhi metro station when I was trying to buy a ticket to travel a couple of stops. The booth operator rejected my 100 rupee note since they had no change, and pointed to the UPI QR code stuck on the glass pane. I offered to buy the more expensive commuter card, but that required they register the card with my number. Finally, the teller directed me to a machine. The cash I inserted kept getting returned only to realize the machine did not accept the new series of notes!

QR codes seemed omnipresent—pasted on the backs of rickshaws, hanging at pani puri stands, and even affixed to temple donation boxes. The seamless integration of digital payments into daily life is both remarkable and transformative.. The digital infrastructure needed for the scale of transactions is both daunting and impressive to imagine.