One of the things I’ve decided is that, after this trip, I am not spending any more traveling time seeing monuments. I have seen enough fortresses, battlefields, pieces of armour, bullets, arrowheads and dusty documents to last me a lifetime.
Thursday, the plan was to be up by 6 a.m. out of the house by 7 a.m. and in Jaipur by 10. We overslept, traffic was of course bad and, once we got in to Jaipur, Suresh got lost. So, not into our hotel, Umaid Bhawan, until 2 p.m. Deepa Shah and her two kids, Anjur and Amar, and her driver accompanied us in their car, plus two nannies (ayahs).
Jaipur was laid out on a geometric grid with nine sectors, but, as in Delhi, decay and entropy have set in and whatever structure and beauty lives here is hidden behind trash, grape sellers, corrugated tin, general disorder, haze and noise. By 3 p.m., we headed out to Jaigarh, the Amer, or Amber, Fort which overlooks the old capital of Amer. Sitting on a high hill above a lake, it was begun in 1592, by Raja Man Singh I. It was the capital for many centuries of the Kachhawah ruling dynasty, along with the nearby Amer Palace. These rulers later moved down into Jaipur into what's now called the City Palace. To give you an idea of location, from the fort, the border of Pakistan is just over 400 miles away.
I am proud that I ended up with no fingernail marks in my palms on the way to the fort. The road up to Jaigarh is a series of steep switchbacks and I do not do heights well. At all. At first I was happy because I was on the wall side, but with every turn my position changed so that I would be looking into an abyss. Yet, here I am, alive to write about it. Thank you Suresh.
We did not see the opportunity, but you can take an elephant ride up the hill to the fort, however tourists are advised not to. The elephants are not native to Rajahsthan and suffer from abscesses on their feet from walking on tarmac, often are poorly treated and malnourished to top it all off.
Looking down from Jaigargh, every single spine of hill bristles with protective, crenellated walls -- as if the terrain isn't hostile enough. The fort also is home to tribes of capuchin monkeys, and, outside, flocks of peacocks and the occasional pig. The monkeys are great sport, flinging themselves from rampart to rampart with their black tails curled up high, but they will attack if you come close. I contented myself with watching, since Kim said no one would help if they attack. A fascinating aspect of the fort is the water storage system. There is a watercourse that starts in the mountains above, a wide, deep spillway. During the rainy season, this structure filled a well with enough fresh water to last the inhabitants of the fort for two years. And, there were two wells for waste water. Rajasthan has long been known for its creative ways of wringing the most out of every drop of water.
We had arrived just before closing, made it out by about 5:15 and drove down to Amer Palace.
Again, a beautiful, elaborate structure, with a central pleasure garden, the Aram Bagh, quartered and wedged by watercourses (now dry); winter sleeping quarters on one side of the garden, summer on the other and a separate area for the harem of the aforementioned Man Singh, a very large man (reputed to be 7 feet tall and 500 pounds; we later saw one of his gowns, very likely true) who had 12 wives. Secret passageways for the king to visit each wife, guard towers manned, if that is the word, by eunuchs, a central gazebo for all the wives that was, in its day, hung with curtains (the hooks are still there).
The beauty of these places, when you think about the stark contrast there must have been long ago between the mirrors, the marble, the water, the court and the drama, is amazing to imagine.
We had a nice guide who took his time, took pictures of the children, and, at the end of the tour, as the kids were in the bathroom, told me that in a nearby courtyard the festival honoring the goddess Kali was going on. (There is a temple to Kali too.) When everyone came out, he trooped us out into the courtyard and we saw the descendant of Sawai Jai Singh (himself a descendant of the big guy and there's a story about the Sawai title, but I'll save it for later), who still is the holder of the property. Not too kingly looking: an old man with gray hair a light blue shirt and a garland of red flowers around his neck getting back into his fancy Toyota, surrounded by guards. More like a grandpa.
The courtyard wasn’t to crowded and our guide told us if we wanted to go up and give an offering to Kali, we could. Maria, Kim's ayah, stayed behind with cameras and to guard our shoes and we crowded up some stairs (after having the contents of our purses examined by India’s finest. They missed my camera.) So many people, saris in magenta, turquoise, gold, green. Dark hair everywhere. Men in white shirts, little kids, babies on shoulders, all crowded into a cramped marble stairway up from the festival courtyard, everyone bearing offerings for Kali. Mostly garlands of flowers that you could buy on the way up.
What a parental nightmare. The kids aren’t even mine and my eyes were everywhere. At the top of the stairs was Kali’s altar, though you could not see it. Too many people. Behind the altar was a priest and his assistant. Deepa found a place by one corner and hoisted up her son Arjun, who handed over his garland and received a treat in return. Kim's daughter Leilah was with me so I lifted her up, she handed over her garland and received a red/gold swatch of fabric and a treat as well. The idea is that a gift given is returned with a gift the goddess already has. Oh, and by the way, Kali is the goddess of destruction. Deepa explained later that you pick you gods and honor them.
Off to one side of the altar was a smiling young man in a blue uniform with a tin of red dye. He was anointing everyone and I finally let him dab me between the brows. Result? Staring! Why is this white woman anointed with a bindi between her brows? We got in the car and I caught Suresh staring. Washed off as soon as we got back to the hotel.
What a hot hectic day. I was so tired after Amber Fort that I couldn’t believe were were going to do one more thing, but the consensus was “We’re here, might as well.” Which is exactly right. I can sleep later.
One of the lovely structures I photographed in Jaipur was the Hawa Mahal, or Palace of the Winds. Pittsburgh connection? The Skinny building at Fifth and Wood. Except much grander. The Hawa Mahal was built in 1799, and designed by a poet philosopher named Sawai Pratap Singh. Five stories high, one room deep, it was built for ladies of the harem to be able to watch the street scene below.
That's today's picture. Slideshow to come.
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