From the palace

Of Kipling and goblins

The petite Indian city of Bundi has played muse to artists – most famously, writer Rudyard Kipling, photographer Virginia Fass and poet Rabindranath Tagore – but it has managed to deflect the prying eyes of the tour groups and backpackers. They have come, seen and conquered the rest of Rajasthan – pink Jaipur, blue Jodhpur and golden Jaisalmer – but overlook sandy, brown Bundi, despite its palaces and great fortress.

Perhaps for that reason the town’s rough charm remains undiminished. Tucked into a valley at the foot of the Aravalli mountain range, Bundi, which dates back to the 12th century, remains a figurative crevice in the folds of time.

In the South China Morning Post, August 21 – read the full Bundi travel story here – Living the dreams

Sunset over Pichola

If you happen to be in Udaipur and someone recommends the ropeway ride (someone is sure to, locals are so proud of it), take their advice. I almost did not. Bah, ropeway, tourist trap.

Well, that it is. But it also a wonderful experience – not the cable car trip per se but the view from the top. The best time to make the trip is late in the evening just before sunset. All Udaipur stretches out before you, the sun slowly sets over the hills in the distance, someone up there opens the tap of multicolour ink on to the sky, a range of colours from pink to orange via purple and the lights across the city get switched on, the Jag Mandir and City Palace sparkle on the darkening canvas.

Family next to me on the cable car are visiting from Jaipur – the matriarch says, “This is so nice, what does Jaipur have, nothing, not even a cable car.” Indeed. What does Jaipur have.

From the top, I look longingly at the Taj Lake Palace – I call my husband in Bangalore and said, “I know where we are going for our 20th anniversary.” Husband asks (rightly) if that was not too far away to plan – we complete ten years early April. My reply, “yes, but we need to save up for the next ten years to be able to afford a few days there.” Deep sigh. By then, the prices would probably have escalated so much that even ten years of savings may not fetch us three nights there. Deeper sigh.

Till then, if I am ever in that city, I will be content to go up the cable car to watch Udaipur twinkling its beautiful eyes at me from a distance.

MB at LMB

So Jaipur is not just about the street snacks – though I’d be perfectly content to live on them all my life, hyper-acidity or not. There is also Lakshmi Mishthan Bhandhar. So I head there for lunch Sunday afternoon – and bravely, foolishly order the Rajasthani thali.

And it arrives. One look at it and I feel stuffed.

I share the table with this Taiwanese couple. After great inquiry and deliberation on what was in front of me, boy orders thali. Girl does not even look at the printed menu. She asks for mirchi bhajia.

Waiter directs smiles at her (patronizing – you poor firangi) and me (conspiratorial – these dumb firangis) and declares, that is very spicy – not for you. Girl calmly says she has been having it every day in Jaipur and can he please (wipe that smile off his face and) fetch it.

Waiter’s eyes pop out in disbelief. Food arrives. Boy and girl proceed to tuck into their food with great nonchalance. I struggle after the first baati is downed with the thick daal.

Much fun is had. Much food is consumed. A lovely lunch, in all.

Nine ladies. One elephant.

Now I don’t know what you are thinking after reading that title. But here is what I mean.

This board at the Jaigarh fort was about the attractions of the Jaipur City Palace. Large silver jar, Dacca Mulmul, swords and daggers – all check.

But this nine boys and elephant made of nine ladies – how did I miss this one? Doesn’t sound like something easily overlooked.

Greetings from Ganesh Chaturvedi

I find Lal Khan on my first morning in Jaipur – the watchman at my hotel hails Khan’s auto and we bargain. Sightseeing, I say, knowing no other word to describe ‘random roaming’ – he looks blank for a moment – I wave my hands helplessly and say, Hawa Mahal, Palace, Johri Bazaar… his eyes light up in comprehension – accha, sair-seeing, baitho .

He stops at several places unasked, feeling that I ought to use my camera more – he knows the best spots and insists I take photos from there and only from there. As it happens, so does my guide at the Hawa Mahal – he sees me pointing my camera at the facade at one spot and hustles me to another – “total symmetry here”.

Otherwise Lal Khan is careful, knowledgeable (mostly) – on the way to Amber fort, he points to a temple on top of a hill and says it is crowded during the annual Ganesha festival – “what you call Ganpati Bappa Morya in Bombay, we celebrate here as Ganesh Chaturvedi”. He is one nice old man, warning me every time I get off the rick, “be carefuls, madam”.

I love Jaipur – I realize it is one of my favourite cities in India. I take a walk through the markets one evening – the shopkeepers like it when you banter with them – one of them points to my earrings and says he will sell a similar one to me for just Rs.80 – and I say, I am already wearing this – why do I need one more pair? He laughs aloud and says – “chalo, aap free me le lo!” . And then the street food – everywhere, every kind of snack and chaat.

As in any other Indian city, it is interesting to people-watch and figure out where they are from – at Jantar Mantar, the Bengalis are arguing loudly about lunch, the Telugus are bored with the “same thing” and photograph their bratty children climbing on to the structures. Everywhere else, the Delhi couples saunter confidently, the newly-wed woman with her red chooda, svatters and high heels, taking pictures of her man on her phone camera as he poses at regular and frequent intervals. In front of the Hawa Mahal in the evenings, foreigners travel in hand rickshaws in a procession – the Japanese easily identified by their video camera in one hand and v symbol on the other.

Inside the city palace, my guide tells me the story of the 7 feet, 250 kg maharaja who ate 5 kg of jalebi and drank 5 litres of milk for breakfast everyday. His silk pyjama is on display and stretches across almost an entire wall; the group of teenagers point to it and giggle.

I want to giggle too then. Just because I am happy to be there then.

Shekhawati: art in the open

Driving into Jhunjhunu one sunny morning, we come across Raju Guide at the busy intersection where we stop for directions. Raju recites a list of ‘sight-seeing’ options and proceeds to take over our lives for the rest of the day. He demurs when we discuss money – he is happy with “whatever we pay from our hearts”. Raju says he adopted that name since he wanted to be the “sabse best guide of India” – a tribute to Dev Anand’s character in the Hindi film ‘Guide’ (mild alarm bells are going off in my head, considering how that character finally turned out in the movie but I am raring to go haveli-hopping and ignore those). He begins our guided tour by declaring, “We get a lot of tourists but most of them are foreigners”.

I remember then the surprised look on the face of the shopkeeper from whom we had bought water bottles earlier that day. “What are you doing here?”, his bemused expression said, as he took in our eager faces, guidebooks and car parked under the tree with driver in tow. I find all this a tad strange – I had been expecting the area to be teeming with tourists, given that guidebooks proudly refer to the region as the ‘open-air art gallery’ of India’. I mull over this as we walk through the narrow lanes, awkwardly negotiating cows and camels and playing children, Raju ahead of us with a quick, confident stride.

The gods serenade too!

***
Read the rest of this piece here – Published in the June 2010 issue of the Go Air inflight magazine, Go-getter.

Celebrating culture

Published in the Hindu Sunday magazine today. Read Celebrating Culture online…

***
Who would have thought kitsch could be so charming? The first evening of our stay at Jodhpur, when I venture into Mandore Gardens for the inauguration of the annual Marwar Festival, I do not have very high expectations. Blame it on everything I have read about it so far – glorious tradition, heritage, brave warriors of Rajasthan – the clichés had flown fast and furious at me. At Mandore, a hundred monkeys – locals – are waiting along with the tourists – outsiders – for the performances to begin, munching in a distracted fashion on the peanuts thrown their way. To pass the time, they eye our cameras and play hide and seek behind the trees that have grown in profusion all over the garden.

As the sun sinks into the desert that borders the city of Jodhpur and the evening turns mellow, the visitors get more and more restless. Suddenly in the middle of the noise, the first singer raises her husky voice to the tune of Rajasthan’s anthem, padharo mharo desh – welcome to our country – and a hush descends on the edgy crowds. The next three hours fly past. And I am sold. Bring on more of the glorious tradition!

And so the next morning I step out into the mild early winter sunshine and head towards the main town square where we have been told the parade is to take place. The place is empty but for a group of young boys who have assembled there, holding their camels by short ropes. Slowly people start lining up the sides of the street and the first horse carriage crosses us, with pretty young girls dressed in colourful lehngas waving out to people with a smile. Following them is the pied piper of Jodhpur in resplendent purple silk and just behind him, dancers on their wooden horses, along with their music troupe, all on moving carts.

The pied piper of Jodhpur?

Horse dance

However, the most picturesque venue for the festival, indeed the most picturesque spot in Jodhpur, even when there is no festival is the Mehrangarh Fort. The heart of what was the fortified city of Jodhpur, Mehrangarh was built in 1459 by Raja Rao Jodha (after whom the city is named). In a state where every few hundred kilometres boasts of a fort, Mehrangrah is still something special, seeming to rise as it does out of thin air. You crane your neck up at the hill, and suddenly, somewhere out of the middle, the fort sprouts up, reaching into the skies. Or so it seems from the perspective of one standing at the bottom.

Mehrangarh - fort rising up

Peeping from the balcony

We stick as close to the walls as possible on the narrow lane leading up to the fort, as silk-caparisoned elephants and camels amble past, moving their heads slowly to some inaudible music. Since we are ‘captive audience’ then, the vendors along the path take this opportunity to sell us everything from tea spices to agarbatti, proudly calling out their USP that is anyway displayed on boards in front of their shops – Recommended by Lonely Planet. As we huff and puff our way up the steep cobble-stoned path, we stop at the edge to catch our breath, taking in the magnificent view of the city spread out beneath, like a deep blue blanket. Jodhpur may be called the blue city after the predominant colour of the dwellings, but it is the earthy browns of Mehrangarh that stay with you long after you leave Jodhpur.

Elephant in regalia

Decorated camel

Inside the fort premises, most of which has been converted into a museum, we take in centuries of Marwar culture, preserved through murals and musical instruments, swords and daggers, costumes and cradles. And in the middle of the gold and browns, we catch a sudden glimpse of the jaali work on the windows, the broken coloured glass casting brilliant reflections on the floor. Just outside the palace, there is a continuous buzz; we find out later that it is a folk music competition for visitors who want to take a break from the monotony of shopping from makeshift stalls set up for the festival inside the fort complex. And unmindful of all this sits the Korean artist, sketching the contours of a local musician who poses with his musical instrument, the resignation caused by years of tough life on desert land etched on every line of his face.

Painting the artist

After a whole morning spent at the fort, we head out to Osian in the evening, where the desert spreads out as a never-ending sea. And for those whose appetite for local culture has not been satisfied, Osian is also a venue for some of the festivities, and music in the stillness of the desert is an experience not to be missed. Visitors who have made the long dusty trip can also take in the splendour of the Osian Jain temples, many of them now in ruin, or recover by simply staring at the sun setting out in the desert.

Or you could just do what is most joyful in a place like Jodhpur; amble round the streets aimlessly and try hard not give in to the temptation to buy something pretty and colourful from every shop you pass. When you have had your fill of mojris and mirror work bags (if that is ever possible), stop to refresh with piping hot and sinful jalebis and kachoris, with that taste that only local Rajasthani spices can impart. I did all of this, taking in local morning scenes and wondering yet again about the point of my hurried no-time-to-stand-and-stare existence back home.

Ghantaghar - the clock tower

General Information : The Marwar Festival originally known as the Maand Festival, is held every year during the full moon of Sharad Poornima in the Hindu month of Ashwin (September – October). This year, the Marwar Festival is on at Jodhpur on the 25th – 26th of October. The programmes are held at venues across the city: at Mandore Garden, the Umaid Bhavan Palace and the Mehrangarh Fort (more information on the Rajasthan Tourism website).

Jodhpur attractions : As you come out of the Mehrangarh Fort, stop at the white marble memorial of Jaswant Thada, located half way down the fort. The land where Jaswant Thada is located was the traditional cremation ground for Jodhpur rulers, though the cenotaphs were raised only in the late nineteenth century. Also spend a few hours at the Umaid Bhavan Palace, now a hotel and a museum which plays host to the riches of Maharaja Umaid Singh’s family, including a collection of stuffed leopards.

Burning Bright

Published in HT Brunch (Dec 09) as Burning Bright

Summer of the tiger

As always, link available online for a week – so here is Burning Bright, page 1 and 2.

The park opened in October after the rains and if you have not been to Ranthambhore yet, now is the time to go…