Moments were aplenty during this winter trip to Rajasthan: Walking through the enchanted woods of Keoladeo National Park, feeling like an Alice who’s just slid down the rabbit hole; Standing stunned before the exquisite but uniquely individualistic monuments at Fatehpur Sikri, hearing a voice of an extraordinary man across 400 years; Staring at a ceiling painted in a style that can be only described as Moghul-kitsch with horrid fascination, unable to sleep in an overwhelmingly garish hotel in Jaipur; Marveling at the effortless and steady-footed way the camel negotiated sand dunes, even with a payload such as me…
And in the middle of these moments, I think I did manage to get away, get lost, get somewhere and find something. I lost the stress-induced knot on my back and shoulders and acquired aching feet from endless walks and stretched muscles from unaccustomed camel rides. I washed away the grime of the city with the salty hard water and gathered sand in the fold of my jeans and shoes. I fell in love with Dr. Salim Ali, Emperor Akbar ,“Kesariya Baalam”, the gravelly voice of the folk singer, and the tenacious way that life battles on with bright flowers and sweet berries on scrubby bushes on the shifting dunes.
The Rabbit Hole
There is a wall somewhere in the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, which gives meticulous account of the number of guns used and number of ducks bagged during major hunts from the early 1700s. The party of Lord Linlithgow, the then Viceroy of India, created a record of bagging 4,273 hapless ducks in one day in 1938. The last hunt was done in the 1970s.It is a wonder then that this park is teeming with birdlife, despite such senseless carnage. We have Dr. Salim Ali to thank for this legacy, who influenced the establishment of this magical park that is spread over 29 sq. kms. An hotelier we met at the airport who claimed to have met him told us that the Birdman of India used to look like a bird and eat like one too! This might be apocryphal, but it was a special experience referring to his “Book of Indian Birds” while trying to spot at least 100 of the alleged 350 species found in the park.
The park has jheels (lakes) which is where the migratory water birds flock to breed. We came across a very noisy painted stork colony. We even had the privilege of watching a crested serpent eagle attacking the colony. The cacophony was deafening. Talking of lunches, we also met with several birds such as the darters and herons catching fat fish and learned that they swallow the fish head first to avoid injuries from the bones.
We walked four kilometers to watch the graceful, almost six-foot tall saurus crane, all lines and grey feathers and bright red crown. We stood by a lake to see a couple of pelicans swim majestically across, like a float in the Republic Day parade. Then one came atop a grassy knoll, fluttered its big wings that sent the poor cormorants scattering.
At another knoll, we saw a huge flock of cormorants sunning themselves in the golden rays of the morning, wings spread, like so many angels descended to earth. We saw pink duck chicks swimming not far away from their mommies. We saw fat and well-fed bulbuls, parakeets, robins, shrikes, and babblers. We saw countless small perch birds.
We were ably guided by our rickshaw operators, with their deadly eye to spot birds and endless enthusiasm to cycle all day. Mine was a task master, making me get down every 10 feet and guiding me to the right spot to get the angle and light just so for photography. The weather was cold and nippy and the sun cheered more than it warmed.
Sandstone Poetry
Akbar was 28 when he built Fatehpur Sikri. He had been a ruler for 15 years by then and was well on his way to establish one of the greatest empires in the world, using unusual military strategies and canny statesmanship. This was obviously no ordinary man.
Fatehpur Sikri is a telling monument of the man and his personality. Here we found an almost functional, simple, unadorned two-storied living quarters of the emperor, facing Anup talao. On to the left of this, is a sumptuous palace for Jodha Bai, far bigger than his. Inside this palace is a vegetarian kitchen whose walls are adorned with carvings of earrings. (Amongst us, opinions were divided as to whether this detail represented Akbar’s love for Jodha or the architect’s.)
On to the right is a small cottage for Mariam-uz-Zamani, his other wife, intricately filled with carvings and details. Leaving the other formal buildings in the complex, this itself seems to present an interesting perspective of the emperor.
Motifs taken from Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism and Budhism are mixed and matched everywhere. The red sandstone buildings present an ethereal aspect, as if they might disappear in a pouff of smoke, like one of those Arabian Nights palaces. There is a feeling of lightness, probably caused by the vast open spaces, the lovely view of the valley below, and the elegance of the architecture.Taken together with the majesty of Buland Darwza and the religious buildings within, this is a stunning place to visit.
Splendorous Skies
Endless blue skies painted with lace-like swirling white clouds--that’s what I remember of Jaipur. It hung over us magnificently through out the day and gave dramatic relief to all the monuments we visited.Amber fort is quintessential Rajasthan and Incredible India--a brave fort encompassing exquisite palaces, replete with palace of mirrors where probably the courtesans danced during scented evenings, a marble jaccuzi, ducts to send cooling waters into the palace during scorching summers and strategically placed windows for the royal women to see without being seen. To complete the experience, the first person we met here was a snake charmer!
Unfortunately, my red roots reared their rebellious heads as we went around the palace. So much wealth in the hands of a few? What rapaciousness! I went. The guide showed us the latrines proudly--who cleaned the shit? I asked. I clearly was not popular with my friends.
The one thing I did enjoy was the hotel we stayed in, whose owner is probably unfamiliar with the concept of less is more. Starting with the silver plated front doors, there was a propensity to go overboard everywhere. In our room, our four poster bed was covered in a brocade sheet, images of Raas Leela adorned all walls, and our ceiling was a riot of intertwined creepers and flowers.Our balconey however overlooked rooftops where people were washing vessels, cooking and running across shivering after having an early morning bath. We sat here for long hours, watching the sun rise and set, talking idly about our lives.
A great city to be a tourist in, if you are into that sort of thing.
Canopy of Stars
Our tent was small, snug and basic. Afternoons got quite hot inside it, while the nights were pleasant. Our bathroom had a tendency to get flooded. All sorts of bugs and birds visited us in our domicile. The food was incredible. We could sit on rattan chairs outside our tents and look at the sand dunes. All in all, the Rawla Desert Camp, a few kilometers away from Jaisalmer, was the most unusual experience we've ever had.
We visited an odd fort called Khaba in the middle of nowhere, standing guard over a ruined village, in what appeared to be a post apocalyptic landscape. We took a smelly camel cart ride into the Desert National Park in search of the Great Indian Bustard. Unfortunately we didn't see much except for two trees completely covered in thousands of small sparrow-like birds.
On the tail of such "meh" experience came the camel rides. The first day, we took a ride along the Sam dunes, our camels led by boys. We all promptly fell in love with the docile, cool-headed, sweet-natured camels. We decided to take another camel ride the next morning, but this time away from the tourist traps. We got four strapping great camels, which were taller and broader than the ones we took the previous evening. We went deep into the rough scrub and dunes behind our resort. The landscape became very wild west--I was expecting the Duke or Clint Eastwood come riding down from one of the slopes any minute.
The camel tenders stopped by a thorny bush filled with small red berries. They plucked a few for me. I don't know why I was overwhelmed by the taste of the sweet berries. Perhaps because it's been ages since I plucked something from a tree and ate without bothering to wash it first. Perhaps it represented nature's bounty and kindness, even in such a harsh landscape. Perhaps it reminded me how far away I have moved from the earth, ensconced as I am in my rabbit warren apartment.After sunset, we spent time gazing up at the desert sky dense with millions of stars. I never knew that there were so many! So this was what had inspired philosophers, scientists, artists and pioneers through ages!
We discovered that the best way to look at this celestial display was by lying down. So four of us lay down in a line on a narrow ledge, toes to head. I realized that my sky was framed by the shapely knees of the person above me, which prompted me to tell her, "The heavens lay between your legs." Pat came the reply, "Yeah, and there are twinkling stars."
The Golden Fort
The 1000-year old Jaisalmer Fort is golden from the yellow sandstone with which it is built, has narrow, sloping cobbled streets like some Mediterranean island and has some exquisitely carved palaces and temples. But that's not why I liked it so much. I liked it because people live in these edifices of supreme artistry and do everyday things--like washing vessels, tending kids, cooking, and gossiping. Their cows drop dung on the cobbled streets and dirty water flows from recalcitrant drains. They ride their motorbikes and scooters. And they have built a city that is a living, breathing tourist trap for foreigners who come for Indian exotica.
The foreigners mostly seemed to be hippies who forgot that the movement has been dead for 30 years. I chatted up a German in a nook under a tree who told me he has come to wander in India till the end of February and has no plans. If only I were the heroine of a Merchant-Ivory production, I would've have taken off with him, to discover myself through lusty sex, dusty plains, inter cuts with pre-independence India, and befriending a doping artist named Champak Mohan. But all I did was to say, "Hare! Hare!" to another long haired, sandals-wearing foreigner, only to make T turn to me incredulously and say, "Did you just say that?"
Oh well!
Comments