Visit to a Dargah

Ajmer was very different from the tourist sites we had visited during our tour through Rajasthan. We were offloaded from our bus three kilometres away from the Dargah, our area of interest. A share auto rickshaw shunted us to the crowded street where the Dargah was located. The same auto was to take us back to the bus after two hours. We walked along the narrow road among jostling pilgrims heading our way to the main entrance. The 13^th century Dargah was virtually a tomb of a Sufi saint called Moinuddin Chishti whose prayers supposed to have granted a descendant to King Akbar. It is recorded in the history that the king and the queen traversed on foot all the way from Agra every year to get the blessings of the saint. The white marble structure bore signs of Mogal architecture. King Shah Jahan had erected a huge gateway to the Sufi shrine. None of the tourists were allowed to enter the shrine without covering their heads with white kerchiefs. Obviously some young boys were making quick change with their white wares. Everyone was obliged to wash their bare feet before they ventured into the holiest enclosure which housed the remains of the Saint. Some of us came out of this very crowded structure with intimidating experience of losing their money. However, we didn’t stay long enough inside the shrine to learn the details of history and soon found our way out.

Three in one

We were told that the journey from Jodhpur to Jaipur via Pushkar and Ajmer was long. So after a wholesome breakfast we settled in the air-conditioned bus comfortably. The merciless sun almost roasted me through the curtainless window. Still a new countryside ride prompted me to ignore the heat. Some twists and turns did divert the sun from its target. Since a wayfarer suggested the driver to take a shortcut that would save him about thirty kms. we were driven through narrow dusty roads that were not equipped to accommodate a huge bus. A discussion was mooted to ward off the boredom of the journey. The topic was demonitisation that left thousands of Indians clueless. The microphone meant for the tour guide was utilized for the discussion. The long queues outside the banks and ATMs throughout the country from 10   ^th November spoke volumes of frustration and anger of millions of people who were hardly aware of the meaning of black money. The party men were hilariously singing  varying tunes in praise of one man who routed the promise made by the Governor of RBI. They were almost blinded by the hero worship for which our country is notorious. Those who were immediately in need of their hard earned and saved cash in the bank were running from pillar to post. They did not know how to pay the rent, hospital bills, plan marriages, pay the children’s school and college fees, buy gifts for friends and meet the funeral commitments. A few highbrows pretended to defer their expenses to a later day. Well, the discussions were quite interesting. Two youngsters who were fortunately employed in the IT sector innocently proclaimed that they were least affected by this overnight policy change. In fact they did not mind the inconvenience caused because they always carried their debit cards along and managed to sail by. Do they know what is happening around them? Are they worried about the vast multitude whose contribution might be the dark shadow behind their cosy life? Around 1.20 pm we reached Pushkar, a small temple town full of  tourists and merchandise. Pushkar is home to the only temple dedicated to Lord Brahma in the whole world. Hindus consider a journey to Pushkar to be the ultimate pilgrimage that must be undertaken to attain salvation. Since the temple would close its doors for lunch break at 1.30 we hurried along its narrow crowded streets to discover the hidden temple. We went around the maze like temple and gathered at the bank of a huge lake which attracted many to pay homage to the dear departed.  The lake is surrounded by 52 bathing ghats and over 400 temples and is truly a magnificent sight to behold. Some priests fleeced the superstitious tourists telling them various legendry tales. Some of them were seen carrying trays full of flowers, articulating Sanskrit slokas, joining a small procession down to the water, and emptying their trays, hearts and purses. The short ride from Pushkar to Ajmer was mesmerizing. The road was wide going zig-zag beside a hill. All of a sudden when we took a sharp curve, Ajmer came alive down below 500 meters amidst lakes and landscape.

From the Golden city to the Blue city

The day long ride was hot because we were passing through the Thar desert. But before sunset we could road dash to the Jodhpur fort in spite of our bus driver’s unfamiliarity of the route. Every now and then we stopped to ask some passing stranger where the fort was. Sometimes we were misled and then we had to make a U turn. Well, finally we were led by a local guide who knew some English. As usual the entry fee was high because we were entering the private property of an erstwhile king. The climb up the fort

was rather steep. A lift which took the tourists up to the twelfth floor was in service for an additional payment of Rs. 40/-. But the long queue discouraged us and so took to our steps courageously. On the way the guide explained how the builder Marwar king rewarded the family of a commoner who willingly sacrificed his life by standing amidst the stones which buried him alive. The sacrifice was for a successful architecture. Every fort has its specialties. This one exhibited many colourful  palanquins  that were used to transport royal families and sharp glittering swords with jeweled handles. The old city with many blue painted houses was visible from the parapets. We were told that high caste Hindus preferred their houses in blue in order to discriminate their dwellings. A local wedding was in progress, for the fort was offered for such family occasions, on a handsome rent. The bride and the groom were led by a few relatives to a hall above. A souvenir shop was quite crowded in spite of expensive small take-away tit bits. The drive from the fort to the hotel in the city was roundabout due to the heavy traffic. We had only one day’s tour left before we reached New Delhi.

A Border Conundrum

A border conundrum

                      Throughout the cold night we half-slept, cursing the occasional bumpy ride. When we finally sat erect on our seats, we could see why Jaisalmer  is called the golden city. The arid region near Pakistan in the Thar desert showed us no trees, no vegetation whatsoever, no water anywhere but only creamy sand and yellow stones. We traveled around 500 kms Northwest to entertain ourselves. The hotel itself wore a deserted look. No inhabitants were visible for miles. In was very much unlike the Indian setting. A horn or two finally brought an attendant out. He courteously led us to the foyer of the hotel.

After a token breakfast we drove to the distant hill which covertly accommodated a fort along with half of the city’s residents. Unlike other forts in India, 4000 families were living inside this fort which was built in the 11^th century by the then Rajput ruler Jaisal. There were also a palace, some ornate Jain temples, hotels and small shops that traded souvenir to excited tourists.The people had no  occupation other than catering to avid tourists' shopping mania. They managed to make handicrafts, art work in sarees, design playthings and fancy wear. Alcohol was cheaper than it was sold elsewhere. A desert safari in the model of one offered in Dubai was promised and after an hour’s drive through a narrow lonely road we reached a dusty village. A few camels and boys surrounded us. Coaxed by our guide, we made up our mind and climbed on the back of the camels, two each. Our camel was led by a small boy who showed us distant sand dunes, our ultimate destination. The ride was slow and laborious. Posing for a few photographs, we settled for a beautiful sunset. The closing clouds betrayed us and we treaded back once again on the camels. An open hall in the village was kept ready with a camp fire and folk dances. The cold wind and the gazals with rhythmic dance mesmerized us. Soon after a Rajasthani meal we rode back to the hotel and went to dream desert legends.

Rajasthan Paradox

Rajasthan Paradox

                      The hotel at Udaipur, the lake city and the Venice of East,  was cosy and happily withstood our day long journey and its consequent weariness by offering us a good night’s sleep. The habit of early morning walk impelled us to walk out of the hotel in spite of the chill weather. A hot cup of ginger flavoured tea was very tempting and a long walk around the pollution free park the Maharana Udai Singh II had built for the womenfolk was simply energizing. Contrary to the general opinion of the Southerners about Rajasthan being a desert state, the city was surrounded by many lakes and palaces which are too many for a day’s sightseeing. Still we could do some justice by taking a boat ride  around a vast water body named Lake Pichola by paying a hefty Rs. 100/= per person. Tourists everywhere were stripped of their cash mercilessly by taxi drivers, auto wallahs, hotel owners, guides and even small merchandisers who make big money selling fake products. And the visitors take this daylight deceit in their own stride and quickly move with audible murmur. We had to climb huge stony pavements to look around palaces up the fort which , we learned , are private properties of the descendants of the Kings. Obviously the entry tickets were quite dear. The Monsoon palace on top of a mountain was no exception. Winding pathways, romantic and sometimes incredible tales told by strange guides who posed to speak English with stranger accents, high windows which offer beautiful views of the valley beneath, royal courtyards, regal wardrobes, armories which exhibit odd weapons – all these hijack the visitors to another world. A part of the palace is converted into an expensive hotel which augments the princely income. Only foreign tourists haunt those places with lavish exchange of Indian currency. We had a late lunch and were off to watch a folk dance and a puppet show accompanied by live vocal music. The same night we bid good-bye to the city unsure of my second visit.

Another Face of India

Another face of India:

                      On November 2016 we landed at Ahmadabad airport for an ambitious journey through Rajasthan. The prospect of walking along the Gujarat former capital city thrilled us because it was claimed to be the model state ruled by the erstwhile Chief Minister and the present Prime Minister. Quite contrary to our expectations the city was not different from any North Indian city: dusty, crowded, unkempt streets, littered slums and poverty stricken dwellers. My Hindi in tits and bits was more than enough to locate a mediocre hotel, an eatery and back to the airport the next morning. Twenty six people joined us flying from Chennai and together boarded an air-conditioned bus for a seven day tour across the state of Rajasthan. Our first stop was the only hill station in the state. Mount Abu situated at a distance of 235 kms from Ahmadabad was about six hours drive of which one hour was on winding hill road. When we reached the top at sunset we knew that some interesting places were inaccessible. However the famous 11^th century Dilwara Jain temple with its intricate marble carvings and architecture opened its gates for us. No belts, no leather bags or cameras were allowed inside the temple. An old guide who spoke non-stop in Hindi went on elaborating the nook and corner of the temple.  Some Hindi speaking friends among us were patient enough to explain some features. Marble stone was supple for the artisans to make incredible shapes and marvelous designs everywhere. The whole temple was deliberately hidden inside a huge fort like structure to mislead the invaders. Thanks to the farsightedness of the builders the site was very much there to give a visual treat to thousands of visitors everyday. Our tour operator pacified us that there were no more places that would entertain us and led us to the bus quickly because his destination was Udaipur where we are to be lodged and fed.