Jaipur

We Ruled Jaipur!

The first thing you notice, in the bus ride from Delhi to Jaipur is the slight changes in the composition of traffic and the landscape. Huge buildings of glass and concrete are replaced by wide open spaces of arid grassland, with a smattering of cows or two. The big, flashy Delhi cars, purring like spoilt house cats, are soon replaced by trucks and buses, roaring and spouting fumes at each other. It is a masculine world, the world of truckers and highway dhabas, where roadside toilet stops comprise of a hole dug behind a tree…yes, that is a woman’s toilet. Into this world, strode five women, and for the first time ever, the stares we received were less lecherous and more incredulous in nature!

Jaipur, is a city which is trying to live up to its reputation as the state capital, yet cannot let go of its past. We find the city trying to grow…opening of new offices, a few shopping malls under construction, a CCD or two…the usual paraphernalia involving a “modernised” city. Yet, as we go inside, towards the heart of the city, we find the original pink city, the city which revered its kings and queens, the city where great battles were won and lost, the city which lived by courage, honesty and valour.

Digression alert: Have you heard of the animal called the Bengali tourist? No? Well, he hibernates most of the year, and is mostly sighted during May-June (summer holidays), October (pujor chuti) and December-January (winter vacations).

We went to Jaipur in December, and as is the norm, the place was besieged by Bengali tourists. There was Shontur ma yelling at him to put on him monkey cap, when Shontu is a big hairy twenty five year old. No, that actually didn’t happen, but you get the picture of the kind of people around. There were people who were comparing Jaipur to Nainital (!), all because of Jal Mahal. This guy even pointed at the fish swimming the lake and proclaimed, “Egulo ki maach bolto? Telapia” (guess what fish are these? Names-a-fish-known-to-be-found-only-in-West-Bengal). Yes, this actually happened.

We tried to see as much of the city as we could in one day. It was hectic…rushing about from one palace to another in the hot sun, with a driver we had hired for the day, who probably thought we were immoral children of Satan because we had categorically refused to go to any temples or to any places of worship. It was tiring, true, but it was worth every ache. The forts were old, graceful…strong and stoic on the outside…where the walls had been exposed to rough winds and rough invaders, for over two hundred years, yet, they stood tall and proud and immense…and soft and fragile in the inside…intricate works of glass and precious stones in the palace walls, ceilings, over doorways, paintings made of crushed and dried vegetables, whose colour shone even today, grand ornate furniture, the softest silks and the sharpest swords.

And then we came back. In one piece. We went there hoping for a change of scene, a vacation away from classes, routine and JNU. We came back with new memories, new jokes, new photographs; some of us even came back with new quilts!

I wish I could paint a picture with the instrument I know best to use, I wish my words could show you what we saw, I wish I could describe the fragility of the sheesh mahal, the view from the top of Jaigarh, from where I could see Jaipur in its entirety, the city with its pink insides and grey outsides, I wish I could write what it felt like to see the fort snaking over the Aravalli range, with the knowledge that where I am standing now, 200 years ago, a soldier had stood in full attention, his eyes ever watchful, his stance ever alert, protecting his king and his kingdom. Most of all, I wish I could repeat for you, the colour, texture, smell and taste, of what I believe, is Rajathan’s greatest gift to India, lal maas…