| Submitted by: Mark R. Leeper and Evelyn C. Leeper United States |
| Submission Date: 07 February 2005 |
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Our stay was 29 hours,
from 2 AM one day to 7 AM the next calendar day. To him that was only one
day. What we expected to pay Rs1000 for was only Rs450. The hotel had its
problems, but it was about US$14.50 for what seemed to us like two nights.
This was another hotel where they don't make up the room.
We left our luggage at the railway station Cloak Room and took an
auto-rickshaw to the Tourist Bungalow. That was where the tour starts from.
Mark had fried eggs and hot chocolate (served in a finger-burning glass).
Tourists from another table asked to see our copy of the new Lonely Planet
guide. We booked the morning tour and wrote in our logs until the bus came.
Our first stop was the Umaid Bhawan Palace, the youngest palace in
Rajasthan. It was built during the years 1929 through 1945 by the Maharaja
of Jodhpur. Actually, it was built by British architect H. V. Lancaster.
(Actually, it was probably build by thousands of Indian laborers.) The
location was one chosen by an astrologer and it is a particularly barren and
lonely site. The astrologer did not see the coming independence of India or
the pain of putting the palace there where they had to build a special
railway to bring the materials.
Now they are recouping what they can of the cost by dividing the palace
into three parts (like Gaul). In one part they have put a paying museum and
they have turned another 70% into a super-posh hotel. The Maharaja lives in
the third part. Mark notes, The palace had to be specially aligned with
the points of the compass because ... hey, I guess I'm not sure why. I
guess it's just a matter of form.
The museum has a photo history of the building of the palace and then
you walk through part to see the kind of opulence to make you jealous. Mark
almost admits, Well, finally we are seeing something that may be more
comfortable than my modest digs, but I doubt it. It has a theater that can
be a cinema. It has gold-plated ceilings. It has models of the Maharaja's
seven planes.
It has some of the Raja's personal effects, such as swords, hunting
rifles, and a dead leopard who got at the bad end of one or the other. Then
there is his collection of clocks and watches. He has big clocks and little
clocks as small as a watch on a ring. There are Dutch windmill clocks. The
museum part ends in a central hall that is 110 feet (thirty-five meters)
high. Our guess is that by this point everybody is so bored with this
description that they have skipped several pages ahead. If you really are
reading this log in this detail, send us mail telling us why you bother to
read about some maharaja's collection, in twenty-five words or less. The
most humorous response will go into our next trip log. He also had a clock
in the shape of a steam train engine.
Pushing skyward from a hill overlooking Jodhpur is what looks at first
like an Arizona butte but is actually a man-made structure. The structure
is tall and majestic and it costs Rs50 to photograph inside so you better be
willing to accept a verbal description. (Evelyn writes, This business of
charging extra for cameras is an iniquitous practice designed to fleece the
tourists even more than the reputedly higher entrance fees for tourists
already do--it's like the Death of a Thousand Cuts. Here, though, it might
actually have been worth it, since they allowed photography inside the
buildings as well as outside.)
The Meherangarh Fort was built in the 1400s by Man Singh, another Raja.
The fort is huge and, while once intended to repel invaders, now has its
life's-blood in attracting them. The gates that surround the fort are 117
feet (35 meters) high, or about one yard short of ten stories. The fort is
split into sections for men and sections for women. In the women's section
were collections of ivory carvings, including a detailed steam train so
pretty that Mark is sure the toothless elephant must have been proud. If
the elephant wants a quid pro quo tooth for a tooth, Mark says he has met
some Indians who prey on the tourists. There is also a collection of
cradles from the royal family, including one that is motor-driven.
Mark complains, Once again the guides pointed out what they call a 3-D
painting whose eyes follow you around the room. Of course, they have it
backwards. If it were 3-D, the eyes would *not* follow you; you would see a
different view from different places. To have the angle not change it means
you get no parallax, which is the property of a two-dimensional image. The
eyes of Michelangelo's 'David' do not follow you because they were sculpted
in 3-D. But when Clint Eastwood looks straight at the camera and says, 'Are
you feeling lucky, punk?' everybody in the theater sees him looking straight
at them. That's a 2-D image. I tell you, there are millions of tourist
traps. Don't believe everything you are told.
Everyone on the tour spoke Hindi but us. The guide gave separate
lectures to us. Evelyn says, English must be a much more concise language;
our explanation was always much shorter than the Hindi one. Suddenly in
the middle of one lecture to us, he stopped mid-sentence.
What are you doing? he asked.
I am making notes, Mark replied.
What is that?
Electronic notebook.
Mark notes, The guide had just discovered Thing. Mark is sure that
every once in a while the guides start seeing a new piece of technology
coming with tourists and they are not sure what to make of it. The
videocamera was something new in their lives a few years back. The time
will probably come when some percentage of tourists will be using portable
computers to manage their trips. The younger generation is very computer-
oriented, but it may be a while. For the time being there are not many
people ready to bring a computer into India. I think you have to be a bit
nuts to bring a computer here.
Anyway, the palace/fort was used from the 1600s to the 1800s. We saw
one courtyard in white that was used for the Holi festival. That is the
festival known most for the custom of throwing red powder and paint on
people. We are not sure how long this courtyard could stay white. Many of
the rooms had brightly colored stained-glass windows.
In the hall where art is shown--from the school of Marwar miniatures--
Evelyn found a picture called Opium Eaters Frightened by Rat--funny
activity by weird skinny people.
Mark says, It has been suggested that these palaces were built in
times of famine as a sort of WPA-type famine relief. I have also been told
by Indians that many centuries ago the Indian civilization was so high that
flying machines were common. I put both these statements in the same
category. I think they are the invention of people who are very anxious to
feel good about themselves. The truth, as I see it, is that the lower class
in India far outnumbers the middle and upper classes. Social welfare would
deplete the country's economy very quickly. The obscenely rich have
political power and remain obscenely rich. But there is not much concern
for the poor in India and the beggars search out visitors, not their own.
In fact, the societal structure is set up to deny connections between the
castes. 'I am a Brahmin; you are an Untouchable. You must not beg from
me.' It is difficult not to pass judgement on this society. To Western
eyes things have gone very, very wrong. I have heard Indians say that it is
unfair that America has so much and India has so little, but when India gets
more it all seems to go to those with power. If the world decided its
number-one priority was financial aid to India, the gap between the rich and
the poor would grow even greater.
From the upper rooms this really looks like a King-Arthur-style castle,
complete with turrets. (Or at least like a castle you'd see in a Hollywood
King Arthur movie.) Beyond the walls is a Brahmin village painted entirely
in blue--the color of Krishna and of Shiva.
The royal bedroom is about as comfortable as their technology could
make it. It has bright stained-glass windows, spherical mirrors on the
ceiling that look like big Christmas decorations in many colors, and a fan
run by muscle-power from outside the room. We will not describe in detail
the textile room, the folk instrument room (except to say that among the
instruments is a ram's horn), or the treasury room.
The arms room had some of the strange Indian daggers for which the
handles are shaped like an H. They are, Mark was told, intended for each
hand. The fist grabs the cross-piece of the H and the vertical bars
protect the arm and allow it to deflect blades. We also saw a kris, which
the guide claimed was an Indian design and just used in Malaysia. There is
also a room of houdahs (elephant seats) from different states.
Near the entrance you can see the marks of cannonballs on the walls
from battles, and also the suttee hand prints left by wives going off to die
on their husbands' funeral pyres. (Though the British outlawed suttee in
1829, the last recorded royal suttee occurred in 1953.)
On the way out of the fort we had some cool drinks, then went to
Jaswant Thanda, the Royal Cremation Grounds (from which there is a marvelous
view of the fort--but then that's probably true from a lot of places in
Jodhpur). The guide gave us a detailed description of a funeral ceremony
and mentioned the responsibilities of the sons but said nothing of the
widow. They don't like to tell tourists about suttee.
We went inside. At the doorway there were three Indian teens, a boy on
one side and two girls on the other. The boy said something in Hindi in a
high funny voice as we passed. When we left the two girls said, Hello,
and Mark returned Hello. Then in a high funny voice he said to the boy,
Namaste. The girls thought that was funny.
The last stop was Mandore Gardens. There were gardens there and a Hall
of Heroes that had figures carved in a rock wall and painted in the vibrant
Hindu style, representing gods and local heroes. It reminded Evelyn of the
Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur, though nowhere near as elaborate. We also saw a
memorial to Maharaja Ajit Singh (now taken over by pigeons and monkeys--in
fact the pigeon population everywhere around here is such that walking is a
hazard both above and below). We saw more temples and listened to a street
musician.
Amazingly, there was no stop for a crafts shop.
At the Tourist Bungalow Mark had stuffed tomato and paratha bread.
Supposedly people lose weight in India but it seems like the meals have a
lot of oil.
After lunch we went to the City Museum and zoo. The zoo was closed.
The museum cost Rs2 and was a sad sight. There were stuffed birds that had
lost a lot of their feathers. Some of the heads had fallen off. There were
pictures of rajas with all their feathers. There was a little ivory
carving--again a train, a popular subject. There was also an ivory chess
set. There was pipe-cleaner art and carved stones in poor condition. There
was examples of rock salt carving, plane models, and puppets. As usual,
there was not much of any one thing. And the museum was dimly lit. The
biggest attraction was some tourist who'd brought a computer.
Now we were trying to decide what to do (since it was only about 3 PM)
and Evelyn suggested that we sit in the shade in the park around the museum
and write in our logs. Silly me--I forgot we were in India, she said
later. We hadn't gotten very far when a young man about fifteen years old
came by on a bicycle and insisted on talking to us. Every ten minutes he
would say, But I disturb you. You want to write. We would nod agreement,
but he would just keep talking. (Who *is* the current Canadian prime
minister anyway?) He wanted to see Mark's palmtop, Mark's watch, Mark's
camera. In the end (after about a half hour) he wanted a souvenir of Canada
and refused to believe we had nothing suitable with us. |
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