April 26, 2011
After our sleeper bus ride to Jodhpur we were ready to be whisked away in our bubble, but our bubble wasn’t quite as big as in Auraungabad. :) The bus wasn’t AC and was more run down and dirty than our first one. The sliding door of our compartment kept sliding open so Mom spent the night shutting it. Not only was our stuff more secure with the door shut, but we avoided the leering eyes. My bathroom stop was a field on the side of the road. I tried to hide behind a bush, but with the arid flora I might not have been successful. And my walk landed me a big thorn in my foot. Some woman followed me to where I walked and once I found my spot she finally walked away. Not sure what that was about…
Our hotel had agreed to pick us up at the bus stop and had gone to the bus stop at 5am, and waited an hour.
Unfortunately, we arrived two hours late and they never called my cell to check. And I had understood I would call when we arrived. Anyway, we hated to take a rickshaw because had read nightmare stories of the drivers giving you so much hassle about going to “their hotel” that we asked our hotel to come back. We gave them a nice tip so I think that waylaid any frustration. The hotel is in an old haveli (mansion). It had WiFi – for free!
After napping and resting for a few hours we headed to the main sight of Jodhpur – the Meherangarh Fort. This fort is smaller than Chittaugarh, but the palace inside is spectacular. The fort is still an imposing sight over the city of Jodhpur. The Marwar royalty used this fort from 1459 into the 20th century. The kingdom of Marwar (not to be confused with the Mewar of southern Rajasthan) arose in 1381 when Chief Rao Chanda of the Rathore Rajput clan seized the fort of Mandor (a few km north of Jodhpur). Then in 1459, Rathore Chief Rao Jodha moved his capital to a more defensible site – a steep-sided escarpment. In his humility he named the city Jodhpur. The fort proved strong and the kingdom’s wealth from trade steadily grew. The Mughal’s had been keen on taking the fort and succeeded under Akbar in 1561. He eventually allowed the Marwar to retain their internal independence as long as they allied with him.
Never enjoying this forced alliance, the Marwar, Mewar and Jaipur formed an alliance in the 18th century against the Mughals. These three kingdoms also warred with one another, but having a common enemy brought them together now and then. By the close of the century, Marwar maharaja Man Singh was under intense pressure from the Maratha empire to his south. Consequently, he turned to a new power for protection – the British. Paralleling the old alliance with the Mughals, the Marwar were allowed to retain their internal independence in exchange for an annual tribute to the British East India Company. This fee was equivalent to what the king had previously paid to the Marathas. By 1930 the Marwar agreed to join a united India if it became independent. The royals lost their official status, but, like many other royal families, still retain much wealth and respect. They also wield much influence in Jodhpur.
Entering the heart of the fort was a beautiful experience. One of the walls and the palace loomed above us. It is all in excellent condition. Though there were holes in the walls from cannon balls. There was also a story of a man who agreed to be buried alive in the foundation or wall. I can’t remember the whole story, but for some religious reason it was decided a sacrifice was needed. This man offered himself and there is a plaque commemorating his sacrifice. The royal family still honors him. We continued to walk through the 7 gates protecting the palace and saw that some were at sharp right angles to prevent charging elephants. The doors had the same spikes as in Chittaugarh.
Just inside the 6th gate you see red handprint molds. These are said to be the handprints of the widows of Maharaja Man Singh. As the women left the fort to commit sati on his funeral pyre they touched this spot. This mass sati in 1843 was the last for a Marwari maharaja.
Continuing on from here one comes to a large courtyard where the coronation ceremonies occurred. The courtyard is surrounded on three sides with the gorgeous sandstone palace. The stone has been intricately carved with the most impressive aspects being the jali (the latticework). Seeing that kind of carving in wood is impressive so to imagine the skill needed to carve the stone is mind boggling. As you wander through the palace some rooms display various objects like howdahs (elephant seats), palanquins, weapons (including a sword of Akbar’s), royal cradles, and miniature paintings. One Marwar queen traveled to England and had a special narrow palanquin made where she remained hidden from view. Apparently, photographers (paparazzi even then!) were all trying to get her photo and one succeeded in getting her ankle. To the outrage of the Marwar the picture was printed in the newspaper. They bought ALL the copies.
We also got to see a demonstration on tying a turban. As you can see the cloth is amazingly long and requires the help of another. It was a time consuming process involving lots of wraps and tucks. The outcome is an impressive head piece.
I loved walking through the palatial, decadent rooms that were used for entertainment and councils of state. The final room we visited, Moti Mahal (Pearl Palace), was used for the councils of state. If you look closely in the pictures there are five small alcoves high on the wall and they had a very practical purpose. The maharaja’s wives could conceal themselves in these balconies and listen to the proceedings and give their feedback to the maharaja. I assume to make the presence of the women more convenient, their zenana was the adjacent building.
Within the fort walls, but outside of the palace is the oldest temple in Jodhpur, Temple of Chamunda. It is dedicated to an incarnation of Durga (goddess of destruction) who is the city’s patron goddess. Mom decided not to go down the steps to the temple so I wandered down. From there and elsewhere along the fort wall I had an amazing view of the “blue city.” Many buildings are painted blue because it’s thought to keep the mosquitos away. All the blue makes for a picturesque setting. As I went to find Mom, I found her surrounded by a bunch of Indian women and children. They were all excited and posing for pictures with her. So I grabbed a picture of Mom with her new friends.
Down in the shadows of the fort, we hit the streets to wander the narrow winding roads filled with shops, cattle and people. The next day we continued our wanderings and got a sample of sweets from a bakery. We also took an auto-rickshaw to nearby Mandor to see the royal cenotaphs. These are memorials made for deceased kings. Even after the capital of Marwar was moved to Jodhpur the cenotaphs continued to be built in Mandor. We wandered just a bit because we were tired from the heat and averse to entering the memorials which all smelled of pigeon poop.
We shifted our itinerary a bit on the rec of another traveler and made Pushkar our next stop. After that last bus ride there was no way I was getting mom on a local non-AC bus or train so we hired a driver. On the way we saw antelopes, large deer, and dry sandy towns populated with people struggling to make a living. We also passed a few camel-wagons. We upgraded from our two-star hotel in Jodhpur to a three-star here. It’s actually a former palace and sits on the largest lake in the town.
The first day was a bit of a waste because I didn’t feel well. I had stayed up all night the night before uploading pictures to the blog while I had WiFi. I knew the Pushkar hotel didn’t have WiFi and figured I’d sleep in the car. I slept a bit, but the road was really bumpy so I was up most of the way. The lack of sleep combined with a headache and need for food made the heat unbearable and within seconds of stepping outside our AC room I started to feel bad. We were heading to the hotel restaurant and I thought food and drink would help. The room was warm and we moved the table right in front of the AC. With that and my Sprite I started to feel better. Then the nausea hit me again and I couldn’t stay. Back to the room and to bed for me. The next morning I felt back to normal and ready to see the town.
Pushkar is a holy city because in Hindu tradition this is where Lord Brahma dropped the lotus flower to earth from his hand. Where the petals fell three lakes appeared. On the largest of these lakes (the one the town wraps around today) Brahma convened a meeting of all celestial being – all 900,000.
The first hours of wandering Pushkar were fun. We saw people flocking to the ghats in the morning to bathe, swim and do laundry. People also fed the pigeon and the cows lapped up the birdseed too. The ghats are a good example of how there is no real private space in Indian culture, but there are private moments. Activities might occur in public, but are to be ignored and recognized as private. I’m assuming the women changing clothes after bathing and being topless for a short time should be ignored. Seeing the bare breasts shocked me considering the modest dress and I haven’t seen it elsewhere in India. Maybe another private moment occurring in public that we are to ignore are of the men going the bathroom. Back to our wandering of Pushkar… The streets were pleasant to walk because this isn’t a massive city yet the main road around the lake was fairly wide. Cars weren’t allowed and there were few rickshaws so we just kept our eyes out for cows and people. The vendors weren’t as obnoxious as elsewhere so browsing was even more enjoyable.
We went to visit the Brahma temple. It’s one of the few temples in India dedicated to him. Most temples are dedicated to Shiva. I hate to even write this section because it turned into such an upsetting afternoon. A young man at a store at the foot of the temple “offered” for us to leave our shoes there. I asked how much and he kept assuring us no money. Mom and I went one at a time because we couldn’t take our bags with us and neither of us wanted to leave our cameras or my laptop behind. The man shoved flowers in our right hand to offer to Brahma – again assuring us no money. None of it sounded right, but I could remind him of no money and there was no way he could force us. I didn’t even want to do rituals since I’m not Hindu. He said his friend, a priest in training, would show me around for free – I had no money on me anyway since my bag was with Mom. I should have asked if I could go around on my own, but this whole situation just had me taken by the arm and forced this way and that. These guys just seemed stuck to my side. The priest-to-be showed me around and had me ring the bell as we entered certain areas. You ring a brass bell to alert the god/goddess that you are there so they will hear your prayer. Otherwise, they are too distracted with everything else going on to notice you entering the shrine or temple. He also took some of the flowers and put them in the offering for Brahma, but then took some candy and added it to my newspaper bowl.
Downstairs we went and Mom and I traded places. Fortunately, the guy and his friends weren’t pushy in their shop and he just showed me music videos on his cell. Luckily, I didn’t find out until later that he had told my mom that it was impossible in this life to have children with me, but he hoped in the next life we would! He also said he and Obamas were friends in a previous life. While we talked he also shouted at some tourists, “Watch your clothes!” Two young ladies were only in tank tops which isn’t appropriate in India, but as he pointed out, Pushkar is a holy city so it’s really offensive here. They either ignored him or didn’t hear. I am surprised at how many tourists ignore the dress. It hurts your interactions with people because they have less respect for you.
Anyway, back to my frustrating story. So Mom came down and the priest-to-be walked us to the ghat where you put the offerings in the lake. We thought we just put them in and that was that. No, we were given plates with more flower petals, rice, sugar, etc. on it and each taken to a priest. My priest unenthusiastically had me recite Hindi prayers. In the middle of it he asked what my donation would be and said that most pay for a meal or more for the people who come there. His minimum donation started at 1,000rs – more than $20! I had already prepared in my mind that a donation would be requested and I was happy to give a little for the experience. And there had been no entrance fee at the temple. But $20+!!! My book had said locals give 21, 31, 51 or at most 101rs for a foreign tourist. Now my pocketbook is getting quite thin so I just wanted to do 50rs. The priest went on to say he’d pray no matter what I paid, but buying a meal for all those who lived there was normal. I said 50rs and he looked shocked. I said I couldn’t buy a meal. He asked had I read my guidebook. I said it said it gave the smaller amounts and he waved that off as just being for the plate of offerings. I should have pulled it out and shoved it in his face because it also warned about scammers. He continued with the ritual and had me walk to the lake a few times. It was actually annoying and time consuming and lacked any spiritual feeling.
When he was done he walked me to the cashier!! It’s gross having someone standing over you to observe your “donation” and then to have a cashier! He said, so one meal. I said, “No, I told you what I’d give.” He got angry and I said I don’t like being tricked and not all foreigners have a lot of money. One local walking by said he had just paid for one meal. Well, frankly, he probably has more money than I do. Then my priest, this man who is supposed to be godly, told the cashier to refuse my money and he ordered me to leave. It was a disgusting experience and very upsetting and insulting.
I should have brushed it off because obviously he is a dishonest person – maybe not even a priest – and I did nothing wrong. But I hate confrontation and being treated badly so have a hard time letting things roll off. It was also the build-up of the strain of always having to be on guard and confronting people who always want money from you. I hate to admit it, and almost didn’t, but I cried. My tears were in part frustrations with myself for getting into this situation. I am aware that scammers are out there and have mostly been successful at avoiding them. We had also been warned about the lake offering scam. One of the hotel staff members had even tied string around our wrist as the “”Pushkar Passport.” You get this string from the priests after the offering and once you have it they will not push you to do it again. We had successfully used it with one man near the lake earlier in the day. The part that threw us this time was that we started up at the temple far from the lake. We didn’t realize they were connected. And we were just so easily put in the pipeline of the process that we didn’t connect the dots once we were at the lake until it was too late.
I told the priest-to-be what happened and he felt badly. He walked back with me to donate my 50rs. I don’t know why I still felt the need to give anything and in hindsight wish I hadn’t. My mom didn’t see what happened, but of course was upset when she heard. Unfortunately, she heard after she had made her donation. Her priest had been pushy as well, but not like mine since she gave a larger donation. Her priest came back to check on me a few times and asked “she’s happy now?” My mom said of course not. She told him the guru I had was a mean man with bad karma. Nice to have a mom who sticks up for you! They just wanted me to be happy and had some bizarre notion that I should be happy now.
The whole experience left a bad association with the city. The priests – some involved in the scamming are real and others aren’t – should be above the scamming and see a larger picture of godliness and reputation. I have no interest in visiting Pushkar again and I have lost some respect for the Hindu institution. I have complete faith that the core teachings of the religion do not encourage dishonesty, but like all religions some people distort the religion for their own selfish needs. I am glad I didn’t buy into the scam and pay what he expected – that I did not back down. But it was still an upsetting experience.
Mom and I needed time back in our bubble :) so we grabbed lunch at a tourist place and then went back to our hotel. She nicely got us massages. We grabbed dinner out and on the way were still hassled to buy water and even a rug. The rug seller shouted out, “how much for this one?” As if we’d buy a rug on a whim like that at eight in the evening. I realize the vendors are just trying to make a living, but they really need marketing lessons and lesson 1 would be “do not annoy your customers.”
Dinner was amusing in that we got the menu and then we got the “under the table” menu. Since Pushkar is one of the holiest cities in India, alcohol, meat and eggs are illegal. Our secret menu offered alcohol! Dinner also inadvertently cleared up my Mom’s misunderstanding. As we paid at the cashier there was a Hindi newspaper with a man on the cover. The much obscured picture resembled Gaddafi and it reminded Mom that she had found out Gaddafi had died and surprisingly by natural causes! She happily shared the news with me and started talking with the cashier about the man’s death. She asked what he thought would happen in Libya. He didn’t really reply, but started talking about how many people were mourning his death. I’m not sure how confused he was, but we were confused until it finally became clear that the man who died was a highly revered holy man, Sai Baba. So Mom’s gleeful response to first learning the news must have been a shock to the Indian man relaying the news. She even asked if he had been killed by bombs! And he and the cashier must have been baffled at the question about Libya. A funny mix-up.
Next morning we gladly left Pushkar behind us and in our private car bubble headed to Jaipur. Our driver made a surprising comment. He said he wouldn’t drive Indians no matter what they paid. He said they always cause problems. He said he’s asked to go with the men when they go the bathroom and something about going to restaurants inconveniently outside of town.
We made a quick stop in neighboring Ajmer to see one of the most sacred Sufi sights, Dargah Khwaja Sahib. After going through metal detectors with grumpy guards, we were asked to leave our bags behind because cameras were in them. We couldn’t be trusted not to take pictures nor have their guards enforce the rules inside. Again, we didn’t trust our valuables to be left sitting against a wall no one was watching so we went one at a time. This is a perk of not traveling alone that I haven’t encountered before. India seems to have a lot more rules then the other countries I visited.
The structure itself is not impressive, but the holy site was overflowing with people making offerings to the Sufi saint Khwaja Muin-ud-Din Chishti, the Dargah Khwaja Sahib. Sufism is part of Islam and this is the most important Islamic shrine in India. It is said that seven visits to this shrine equals one to Mecca. And a visit to Mecca is one of the Five Pillars (requirements) for Muslims. Sufism and this saint are really inspiring even for non-Muslims because of its teaching of tolerance and embracing of other beliefs.
This saint was born in 1156 in Afghanistan. At 13 he distributed his inheritance among the poor and became an itinerant Sufi fakir. He adopted some revolutionary ideas for the age and preached them in Ajmer after he and his disciples settled there in the beginning of the 13th century. He dedicated his life to meditating and fasting, but in between preached renunciation, the idea that anyone could have a personal experience with God if he/she relinquished worldly ties. To even go further in his radicalism, he taught the unity of all religions. He said mosques and temples were simply earthly manifestations of a single divinity. With this idea he was the first religious figure to bridge the gap between the two main religions in India. Even after he died at 97, his followers said that the Bhagavad Gita (a holy Hindu text) was a sacred text. They also encouraged Hindus to pray using the names familiar to them and linked those names to Islamic concepts. The shrine is therefore loved by people of all faiths.
The dargah (tomb of a Muslim saint) was built in the 13th century, but many Muslim rulers have financed structures over the subsequent years. The benefactors included the three great Mughal rulers, Shah Jahan, Akbar, and Jahangir.
The shrine is great for people watching. I witnessed a bit of drama when one Indian woman came thru the screening wearing her flip-flops and a man started yelling at her. She took them off and he kicked them down the stairs. The vast majority of men wore a white cap on their head, but some had handkerchiefs or cloth instead. A few men wore nothing, but didn’t seem to be stopped. Women had to cover their heads, but it didn’t matter if some hair showed.
Arriving in Jaipur we were pleased with our plush hotel with pool. A very nice bubble indeed! I will say though, as much as there are times I love the bubble I also like to be free of it. I don’t want to always be so isolated from what’s going on around me. It’s impossible to always be in a bubble in India anyway.
Jaipur is a bustling city of 3+ million that reflects the growing wealth and modernization of India at the same time you see the poverty and struggles of a developing country. There is loads to see in this “Pink City” as established in 1727 by Jai Singh II of the Kachchwaha family. His family had been ruling a sizeable amount of land in northern Rajasthan from their nearby Amber Fort. Before his time, his family had been the first to ally themselves with the Mughals in 1561. Trade brought them great prosperity and Jai Singh II’s 43-year reign was fruitful. However, after his death there were battles over succession, which weakened the kingdom and the Marathas and Jats took much of their territory. Then the British quickly moved in and staked their claim. Following independence Jaipur became the capital of Rajasthan in 1956.
Our introduction to Jaipur began with the Central Museum housed in Albert Hall. The hall was built to honor a visit by Prince Albert, but the raj wasn’t sure what would be done with the hall. A museum is a perfect fit there. The displays included statuary, paintings, clothing, turbans, pottery, jewelry, rugs, etc., but my favorite was the pottery. The colors and styles from around the region were beautiful. I learned that, at least in this area, lower caste women were prohibited by law from wearing gold and silver jewelry even if they could afford it. So these women wore larger and heavier pieces in other metals to show their wealth and status. Indian cultures are so complex and traditionally (and still today) include so many regulations and rules.
We had hoped to visit the City Palace on the next day, but it was closed for a coronation ceremony. Twelve days before the elderly raj had died and his adopted 15 year old grandson (since he had only a daughter) was crowned king. This is purely ceremonial now, but it meant the palace was closed. We thought it was our last day in Jaipur so was disappointed. It turns out we had our dates confused and we were able to stay one more day. So we did make the palace and it was lovely. The royals still live in part of it and you can pay over $50 to visit the private section – we skipped that. The palace isn’t as spectacular as either the one in Jodhpur or Udaipur, but it was fun. The highlights were four marvelous gates each signifying a season. They are exquisitely painted. The green door is actually on my guidebook and a novel I read. We saw gruesome, but intricately decorated weapons and the carriages that took the royals to and fro. There was a beautiful reception hall painted in what looked to me like a Florentine style.
A store clerk in the museum told us that he doesn’t think the royal family is happy anymore, especially the women. They have lost the big and little perks of being royal yet still live in isolation. They cannot mingle with us regular folks and usually don’t leave the palace. He said he saw the queen once and she looked sad. He said all their importance is within the walls and that the people aren’t even that interested. This is in contrast to Jodhpur where I read the family still carries a lot of influence.
Mom and I each forked over a couple of dollars to have an Astro Palmist read our palms. We declined the face reading option. Apparently, ages 36, 42, 48 and 52 will bring big, good changes. Hope he’s right! Oh, and despite what my bank account says, I don’t need to worry about money. I will get enough that I don’t need to worry. I will marry and should try for two children. And I will have a long life, but have occasional stomach problems (think he thought he should throw in some bad news). Considering the general Indian perception of foreigners and their own cultural norms, his idea that I will not need to worry about money and should have children is no surprise. But, hey, if he’s right I won’t complain. :) Oh, and I should work in communication – something with the public. He also said I shouldn’t live in my birthplace – that was taken care of years ago.
Next to the palace is the Jantar Mantar, an enclosure of astronomical instruments. They were constructed between 1728 and 1734 by Jai Singh. His desire to build these is one reason the royal residence was moved from Amber Fort here. The fort was located in a hilly area so the sun wasn’t always available. The enclosure looks like it could be a modern art exhibit. The instruments are amazing. Several are sundials, including the largest one in the world. It is accurate up to two seconds! I got a bit lost on what all of them did, but others located constellations and measured distance and angle. There were individual structures for each zodiac sign.
The king was so interested in astrology and astronomy that he had the city built according to these studies. The city is on a grid. He also stepped out of the box when he had the city built on the plains rather than up high.
Hawa Mahal was a short walk from the palace and actually the royal women walked along the wall that encloses one of the sides of Jantar Mantar. Hawa Mahal was built in 1799 for the women of the court living in purdah (hidden from view). A large intricate pink façade was built so the women could watch the processions in the street. The narrow structure also gave nice views of the city and the Nahargarh Fort just above the palace.
After a nice “bubble lunch” we headed to the Amber Fort, 11km north of the city. Another imposing fort that served as the capital of the Kachchwaha Rajput clan from 1037-1727. One courtyard has a hall covered with mirrors to reflect heat for the winter. Oddly, the king’s mother did not have to stay in purdah in this fort. At the end of our tour I went to return the audio guides and in the meantime my mom had offers of opium. That just makes me chuckle considering I’ve never even seen her drunk. They guy was quite a Renaissance man because he had so many things to sell and could also have been her guide.
There were so many other places to see in the Jaipur area, but not enough time and now we are on the move again.
Throughout my trip I’ve talked with some people about arranged marriages and seem to get conflicting stories about its existence today. From what I can piece together the educated, wealthy classes do not use arranged marriages as much, but most Indians do. Parents will present their child of marriageable age with appropriate matches, but usually the child can say no. One guide of ours said he had said no to three women before he found a woman whose eyes reflected what he was looking for. His wife had also turned down possible husbands. They were only together for a few minutes when the decision was made and the next time they met was at the wedding. He said they are very happily married and he sees her as an equal, unlike many husbands. She doesn’t sleep on the floor, but he bought a big bed for the two of them. Though one’s caste apparently isn’t a big factor in jobs anymore it still plays a big role in marriage. For those who will have an arranged marriage dating does not occur. In the West that is hard to imagine living without.
We had the same rickshaw driver for our days in Jaipur and he said he drove a tanker truck in Saudi Arabia for 20 years. He and his nephew said many Indians used to go to the Middle East to work, but now they can make the same amount of money within India so few are going. I hope his truck had more instruments than the rickshaw – which had none. During one ride we slowly came to a stop to find we had run out of gas. Fortunately, we were just next to a gas station so he pushed us in.
Enough for now. Next stop is Fatephur Sikri and then joining up with my Mom’s friend from Delhi.
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