|
My plan was to rough it out in the desserts of the
Rajasthan, India, to the pink city of Jaipur. Although modernization
has taken over the city there is still a primitive touch among the
natives, which makes the tourist understand their different
perspective on life.
Adorned with palaces and forts depicting the royalty of the
Maharajas and Rajputs, a reminder of the Indian cultural heritage
before the British Raj, I roamed the streets, eyeing the
mouth-watering delicacies prepared in large cauldrons. A signboard
flashed amidst the vines of a bougainvillea tree. “Rooms To Let.”
The deserted courtyard was well-maintained with various fruit trees
against the backdrop of a large mansion. The doors and windows were
bolted and the interior of the house was pitch black. I stood
contemplating for a minute, then turned around and bumped into a
huge man, dressed in white, wearing a turban and holding a large,
wooden stick. The sun’s brilliant rays blinded me and I took refuge
in this abominable man’s shadow.
“Room?” he asked in a booming voice.
“No,” I replied meekly, trying to dodge him and reach to the
gate.
“Don’t let his size or moustache scare you,” said a voice from a
distance.
A man stood on the verandah of the second floor, smiling and
waving.
“Hold on, we have plenty of rooms here,” he said.
I waited for him to come down, eyeing the turbaned man who had
the biggest and bushiest moustache, I had ever seen.
“Hi, I’m Ravi. Welcome to my Haveli (Mansion).”
After the introduction, he led me to the main house. There were
twenty-five rooms separated by various partitions. Family feuds and
huge maintenance costs led him to rent out his ancestral home.
Veeru, the mustached man, was his trusted servant whose ancestors
had served Ravi’s family for five generations.
A refreshing cup of cardamom tea jumpstarted my weary body and I
then went sight-seeing to Hawa Mahal, literally translated as Air
Palace. There I saw intricately carved stone windows called Jharoka.
It is said that the Queen and her close companions used to watch the
festivities of the palace through these intricate meshes which
guarded them from public view. A narrow, winding stairway led me to
the rooftop to enjoy the breath-taking view of this picturesque
city. The old and new ramparts of the city blended together creating
a fascinating example of how people still presevered and respected
their heritage. It really doesn’t take much to knock off these
ancient walls and create uniform structures around the city. But the
people here take immense pride in remembering their ancestors’
efforts to build them their identity.
As the sun set, lining the streets, the small shops selling
household items, clothes, food, spices and jewelry, lit up like
stars creating an exotic fanfare, making it easy to find my way back
home. |
|
I returned to my cozy room and settled to enjoy a quiet
evening writing in my journal. Suddenly, there was a power
failure. The moonlit night was a blessing, and I stepped onto
the balcony to enjoy the pleasant breeze. Veeru was pumping
kerosene into old-fashioned lanterns below. He saw me and with
a hand gesture indicated that he was going to bring me one. I
decided to take a nap before dinner. As I turned towards my
room, a lantern’s glare from the adjoining section of the
balcony caught my attention. A woman stood there. Before I
could get a good look at her, she disappeared inside.
The next day, I decided to visit the forts - Amer or Amber
Fort, Jaigadh fort, and the Nahargadh fort. An elephant ride
to the Amber palace, seated under an embroidered umbrella and
swaying with the walk of Balu, my elephant, made me feel like
royalty. After the ride, I fed him bananas and distributed
peanuts among the tourist friendly monkeys. Sheesh (Mirror)
Mahal in the centre of the courtyard was covered in every nook
and cranny with tiny pieces of mirrors. A flash from the
camera created a spectacular vibrant effect and a surge to the
senses. No story could explain the grandeur of these
architectural marvels. Each fort had its history, a legend
hidden in every brick of its walls. Every queen had her tale
and each king had his battlefield encounters to narrate.
That evening, I wandered around the mansion, peeping
through dusty glass window panes, admiring large oil canvases,
chandeliers and furniture. The fruits trees were watered and
the fragrance of wet, fertile soil spread through the evening
air. I stood taking photographs of the mansion’s architecture,
when I noticed through my lens a woman standing on the
balcony.
“It must be the same woman I saw other day,” I thought. I
continued with my camera and soon found Ravi walking along
with me.
“Hope you are enjoying your stay here?”
“Yes, I’m having a great time.” I smiled. “Do you have
someone else staying here?”
“No, we three are the only people. Why do you ask?”
“Did she disturb you? I will have a word with Veeru.”
“No, that’s quite alright. I was just curious.” Ravi seemed
annoyed and walked to the house. |
The pink city of Jaipur
My fascination with the lifestyle of the queens of the
bygone era urged me the following day to visit Sisodiya Rani
ka Bagh. This was a lavish spread of well-maintained greenery
with fountains, marble carvings, and a two-storeyed miniature
palace. They had well-preserved rooms where the queens resided
and enjoyed various cultural festivities that took place in
the garden. Their beds were covered with traditional
bedspreads and each room had a beautiful ornate swing. The
carvings on the wooden partitions which separated the dressing
area, the large wall clocks and the oil paintings were all
truly magnificent.
That night, when Veeru came to serve dinner, he seemed
nervous. He remained with me in the room, pretending to tidy
up the place, fluffing my pillows and watching me eat.
“What’s the matter?”
He paused, trying hard to explain in English. “That woman
you see…she’s ghost.”
I stopped munching hungrily for a minute, and stared at
him.
“Sir doesn’t want to believe.”
Quickly, I swallowed the rest of my food trying to
understand this haunting. I was intrigued because I have only
read and seen these occurrences in the movies.
“Who is she?”
“Great grand aunt of Ravi Sir. She committed suicide. You
want me to sleep in the veranda?”
“No, Veeru. I’m not scared. I’ll be fine. Good night.”
Goose bumps covered my skin as I switched off the light and
lay on the bed. “Oh My God! I saw a ghost.”
My eyes scanned the room, then gazed at the balcony
door.
“It’s locked. But can the ghost pass through it?” I decided
to sleep with the lights on.
The next day, I decided to check out, not because of the
spirit but because I had decided to spend the evening at an
ethic village a few kilometers away from the main city. As I
reached the gate the wind blew ruffling the branches of the
fruit trees like they were whispering something. I took a
chance and turned back to see the balcony. Phew, there was no
one.
by Nayanna
Chakrbarty | |
