India

Thursday 10/15/2009 - Exploring the Jodhpur Region: Visiting Raika and Bishnoi Households, Mehrangarh Fort, Mandore Gardens

We woke up at 6 a.m., made tea in the room's electric teapot, took showers, and met Mukul in the dining room for breakfast at 7:20. It was a nice air-conditioned glassed-in dining room overlooking the patio where we had eaten dinner last night. We had poori, uttapan, fresh pineapple, sweet lime juice, cereal, potatoes with mustard, cheese, and coffee.

At 8 o’clock we embarked on our Jeep safari. Craig and I sat in the back of a sand-colored vehicle facing one another, and Mukul sat in the front passenger seat. It was an old-school military desert Jeep, built for performance over comfort, and it gave us somehwat of a rough ride. The back had open-air sides. We drove through the streets of Jodhpur as shops were starting to be decorated with yellow and red awnings for Diwali. Every shop on the side of the road was stocked with merchandise for the holiday, including piles of stainless steel cooking pots, fireworks, shoes, clothing, electronics, etc. People waved at us and we snapped pictures as we rode past. We passed by some peacocks on the side of the road.

After a while, we left the main tarmac road and embarked on dirt roads. We spotted a herd of black bucks, a single dominant male with his harem. He was strutting around with his head held high and his horns parallel to his back. We stopped and got out of the Jeep to observe them. The sand at our feet was embossed with black buck hoofprints. We watched as some juvenile males encroached on this male's territory and he swiftly chased them away. We also saw some of Asia’s largest antelope species.

We got back into the Jeep and continued on our way. We passed a pair of women in very colorful outfits carrying tiffins of food. Like everyone we came across, they had a smile and a wave for us. One was wearing orange and the other was wearing yellow. They had white bracelets up their arms. Their block-printed veils looped around them to form almost a kind of apron in the front. They had noserings (a small loop dangling off of one nostril), and each wore several beaded necklaces, earrings, and long skirts. We stopped to take their photo and offered them a ride. They climbed into the back with us and they immediately put their arms around us for photos. They were very affectionate and familiar with us. They asked if they could have copies of the pictures. After a few minutes of driving, we dropped them off when our route diverged from theirs. They were very grateful for the ride.

We stopped in to visit a household of a family who belongs to the Raika (sometimes also called Rabari) tribe. This tribe is known for raising animals. We entered a family's compound. It consisted of several cinder block or stone buildings with corrugated metal or tile roofs. The buildings had a smooth stucco coating recently refinished and freshly painted for Diwali. Though the floor of the courtyard was made of mud, the place was absolutely immaculately clean and the mud was packed down to the point of being concrete.

The patriarch of the family wore a bright pink turban, had a long black moustache, and gold stud earrings. There were many women and children around. The women were dressed traditionally in the same brightly colored veils, long skirts, and jewelry that our hitch-hikers had worn. They must have been Raika as well. A woman cooked over a small fire in the outdoor kitchen. We entered the small buildings and saw feed stored for the animals as well as metal urns, pots, weavings, and wooden frames with woven seats for reclining. The boys in the family were keen to be photographed. There was also a daughter with hennaed hair, but as curious as she was about everything about our visit, she didn’t want to be photographed. The family raised goats for their wool. The goats' enclosures were made from natural brush, and reminded us of acacia bomas of eastern Africa. There was a gate made from rebar and wire to allow access to the pen. After touring the property and taking some photos, we thanked the family and said our goodbyes, and then got back into the Jeep.

Though not physically very far from Jodhpur, this area seemed very rural. We passed people and animals walking along the streets, but not many other vehicles. After a short ride we popped out a t a little compound where they sold carpets. Roopraj Durry Udhyog was a cooperative producing durry carpets which are woven of either cotton or wool on a loom. We noticed a pair of young girls sat in the shade doing their homework. Roopraj demonstrated the carpet weaving technique for us on the loom. He passed threads through with his fingers and then tightened them with an instrument that somewhat resembled a fork. He said that a small rug would take two people a month to produce. This was a totally different kind of rug than we had purchased in Jaipur. That one had been knotted whereas these were woven. The Jaipur rug had been thick and plush, whereas these were thinner and more lightweight.

We decided we wanted to buy one of these as well, but we couldn’t decide on a color or pattern. There were so many variants. I liked the blue rugs but they wouldn’t really match our décor very well. They brought out rug after rug, spreading them out on the ground on top of one another. It was overwhelming and when none particularly clicked with us, we started to wonder whether we would find the right one after all. Eventually, they presented a green one with gold and blue accents. It would go perfectly in our bedroom. We both immediately said, “That one!” and set about purchasing it. We arranged to have our carpet shipped home to us. Roopraj then showed us a portfolio of articles and photos of his carpets. There were spreads from magazines such as Inside Outside, Elle, and Vogue. And there were photos of when Richard Gere and Prince Charles had visited here. It hardly seemed like the type of boutique where royalty and film stars would frequent, and we thought of them driving down these rural roads to this modest shop. It seemed surreal.

After that we drove to a Bishnoi village. The Bishnoi are another ethnicity of the region. Mukul explained that the are the original "tree huggers" (literally). In 1730 a Bishnoi woman named Amrita Devi in the village of Khejadali put her arms around a khejri tree in order to stop the mass felling of these trees by workers for the maharaja of Marwar. She said that they would need to behead her in order to cut down the tree. She was decapitated, but then her daughters took up her cause and were also beheaded. The rest of the villages joined the cause and all in all 363 martyrs were killed before the maharaja relented and decreed flora and fauna on Bishnoi lands should be left alone.

According to Wikipedia ,

The Bishnois are known as the conservationists to whom the preservation of animal and vegetable life is a religion and has been so from the early 15th century. Their spiritual mentor, Guru Jambheshwar was a wise ecologist. He formulated Bis (twenty) + noi (nine) = Bisnoi tenets from which the community derives its name. Almost 90 per cent of the farmers of Desert region gladly accepted the 29 tenets he laid down. The tenets were tailored to conserve bio-diversity of the area but also ensured a healthy Eco-friendly social life for the community. Out of the 29 tenets, 10 are directed towards personal hygiene and maintaining good basic health, seven for healthy social behavior, and five tenets to worship God. Eight tenets have been prescribed to preserve bio-diversity and encourage good animal husbandry. These include a ban on killing animals and felling green trees, and providing protection to all life forms. The community is also directed to see that the firewood they use is devoid of small insects. Wearing blue cloths is prohibited because the dye for coloring them is obtained by cutting a large quantity of shrubs.

We stopped in at a Bishnoi household where we met a father and his adult daughter whose mother had died 26 years ago. The daughter told Mukul that she was home helping her father for Diwali. The walls of their compound were whitewashed and freshly painted with terra cotta colored animal and plant motifs in preparation for Diwali. Their house was immaculate. Even though the floor was made of dung, It wasn't the soft organic dung of Maasai villages in east Africa. This dung was easily mistaken for hardened concrete.

The woman was wearing a brightly colored long skirt and tunic top, with a fuschia veil covering the top of her head but not her face. She wore gold earrings and much more understated bracelets than the Raika. Mukul asked the woman if she could demonstrate how she makes bajara-ki-roti (millet flatbread). She readily agreed, and immediately used her right hand to mix some millet flour with Mukul's bottled water in a shallow metal bowl. She kneaded the mixture with her right hand and when the mixture was the proper consistency, she patted it flat between her palms (like we had seen tortillas made in Latin America). She then plopped the flat circle into an iron skillet over her outdoor fire fueled by wood and dung. After it was cooked, she stuck it on its side in the ash for a minute. She then drenched it in clarified butter and served it to us on a metal tray. There was even some sort of sauce to dip it in. It was delicious!

As Craig and I sat on a wooden-framed woven bench, her father came over to us and sat on a durry rug. He was dressed in white, from his turban to his long-sleeved shirt and loose trousers. A white cataract clouded his right eye. He performed a friendship ritual called amalsabha, which involved mashing up an opium seed pod with a wooden mortar and pestle. He then mixed a very small amount of opium with water and filtered it several times through camel wool funnel in a contraption which looked like a balance scale. He poured several drops on a small idol as an offering and chanted a short mantra. He clanged his wooden pestle on his metal water jug. He then poured the mixture into our right hands, and we were to noisily slurp it up. We did this three times each, as a sign of friendship and brotherhood. The tradition is usually to drink it directly from the host's hand, but evidently they realize that this would be awkward for most tourists, and instead let us drink out of our own hands. He was about to grab some more of the opium when Mukul kindly declined a second round and said that we had to be on our way soon. We know to trust Mukul's judgment, and he had kept us safe and healthy thus far. We said our goodbyes and thanked the family for their hospitality and for sharing their culture. We got back into the Jeep and headed back toward the hotel.

After a short ride, before we knew it we were back to the main roads. We had felt like we had been in the middle of nowhere, but in actuality we were never really all that far from the city of Jodhpur. We doubt that three tiny sips of opium had affected us, but we were in especially good moods and at peace with the world during the drive back to the hotel. Everyone behind us on the main roads smiled and waved, whether they were on cars, motorbikes, or tractors. We marvelled once again at the ladies who would ride motorbikes side-saddle while wearing their saris. It was a fun ride back; everyone was so friendly!

When we arrived back at the Ajit Bahwan hotel, we stopped in at the restaurant for vanilla milkshakes. The air conditioning felt wonderful and we were totally refreshed by the ice cold milkshakes. Craig had enjoyed his massage so much last night that I was looking forward to mine, which I had scheduled from 1:00 - 2:30. They sent me into a private bathroom where I was to change into a pair of disposable underwear and a nice robe. I sat for a couple of minutes before being called to the massage room. It was more like a western spa massage experience than the first massage in Khajuraho; a little less exotic and less intense. If I had to compare the two massages, I preferred the one in Khajuraho, as it seemed to penetrate deeper into my tissue. But this massage was very relaxing. After the massage, I stopped back at the room to take a quick shower and wash off the massage oils.

At 3 o'clock, we met up with Mukul and Rajendra to head to the Meherangarh Fort. We had seen it looming over us when we were at the market yesterday. The fort is perched atop a plateau 400 feet above town, and dates back to the mid 15th century. On the way, Mukul had Rajendra pull the car over. Mukul jumped out and soon reappeared with two piping hot samosas for eacfh of us to eat on the way. They were delicious but not the easiest to eat in the car due to their temperature. They were clearly fresh off the fryer! We scarfed them down as we pulled into the parking lot for the fort. According to the Mehrangarh Museum Trust web site:

The surrounding wall of the fort today is from 6 to 36 Meters high and from 3 to 21 Meters thick, enclosing an oblong space of about 457 Meters in length by 228 in breadth at its widest part.

It was very impressive. When we arrived at the base of the massive fort walls, Craig and I were looking around at a shrine to Ganesh. Mukul purchased tickets for us and hurried us along, which was unlike him. He explained that we would be taking an elevator up to the main level of the fort and he was trying to get to the elevator before a large nearby group. He was always looking out for us! The elevator was certainly an anachronism in this 15th century structure.

When we emerged from the elevator, we were on a roof terrace with a spectacular view of the “Blue City” portion of Jodhpur, where the Brahmans live. Cannons were perched atop the walls pointing out toward the countryside.

The contrast between this fort and Jaisalmer Fort was striking. Whereas Jaisalmer Fort is still today an inhabited enclave, Mehrangarh is not. It is a museum staffed with employees who do some demonstrations. It doesn't have the same kind of buzz and authenticity that you experience in Jaisalmer, but then again, the fact that it is not populated means that its architecture and structure are in much better shape than Jaisalmer Fort, since it doesn't have to support 21st century daily life.

There was amazing architecture, in both white marble and sandstone. We wandered around taking it all in. Two men demonstrated the proper way to tie a turban. After winding up yards and yards of fabric into a tidy cap, one man was then able to take it off of his head, still fully arranged, and plop it onto Craig's head for a photo op. Another man sat smoking a hookah next to the opium filtering contraption which we had seen in use at this morning's amalsabha ceremony in the Bishnoi village. However the filter was much more elaborate than the one at the village had been.

We walked through palace rooms, some of which were elaborately furnished and featured stained glass windows. Some had elaborately painted ceilings. Still other rooms contained display cases of various historic items. There were glass cases filled with swords of Damascan steel with intricate carvings on the hilt and blade. One sword on display had belonged to Mughal Emperor Akbar. There were viscious-looking daggers, a late 17th century matchlock rifle, and armor helmets. The lances that had been used by the Jodhpur Lancers were on display. There were elaborate ivory carvings including a woman's makeup case. The motif of makeup had been prevalent in some of the carvings we had seen in Khajuraho and Jaisalmer. It really speaks to the upper caste lifestyle to which courtesans of the day were accustomed. Opulence and wealth abounded in the exhibits.

There was a gallery of elephant howdahs (seats from which maharajas and their bodyguards rode atop elephants). These seats were covered in embossed sheets of gold or silver, and some had parasols for shade. One of the howdahs on display had been given to Maharaja Jaswant Singh I by Shah Jahan in the 17th century. Also on display were an array of palanquins (litters for carrying royalty). The ones which carried men were open, whereas the ones which carried women were enclosed, so that the occupant could not be seen while traveling. The grand Mahadol Palanquin which looks rather like a gilded cage, and it was obtained from conquest of Gujarat in 1730. There was also a gallery of elaborate baby cradles.

Mukul bought us juice boxes of orange drink at one of the concession stands and we went out onto a patio and enjoyed the view down at the city. The boxy powder blue Brahman houses were glowing in the late afternoon sunlight.

We started a liesurely walk back down to the car, passing through many elaborate gates as we descended level by level. We stopped to watch a man playing the flute and another playing drums and singing in pentatoinic tones. We passed cannonball holes in the fort walls from when Jaipur armies tried to lay siege to the fort on 1808. Craig has been in his glory seeing all of these forts, but this will be the last one of the trip.

Then we took a quick trip to Jaswant Thada Cenotaph, which sat on an adjacent hilltop, and which had been visible from the fort. It was made of white marble, built by Sardar Singh in 1899 in memory of Maharaja Jaswant Singh II. This was the traditional cremation ground of Jodhpur rulers.

Next it was on to Mandore Gardens to see the cenotaphs there. There were langur monkeys all over the site. THere were so many monkeys that we were hesitant to turn our backs on them for Mukul to get a photo of us. They seemed capable of ganging up on us. We couldn't get the Cracker song "Guarded by Monkeys" out of our heads. We wandered around the lush grounds among the sandstone cenotaphs which featured carvings similar to those we had seen on Khajuraho temples (though not as sexually explicit). The architecture had an Angkor Watt kind of feel to it. With the surrounding greenery of grass and trees, you could almost forget you were in the city of Jaipur and instead imagine yourself in a jungle somewhere. The cenotaphs glowed red in the sunset light.

We walked further and arrived at the Hall of Heroes, where carvings of gods and folk heroes were hewn into the rocky landscape. There was a roof erected over it to protect the carvings from the elements. The light was getting lower as we looked at the different carvings. Some were elaborately painted while others were natural stone. Some were clearly treated as shrines, as there were offerings left behind there.

As we ewalked back through the park to meet Rajendra, we passed many more langur monkeys. We saw a family feeding them bananas. Mukul explained that this was a Diwali gift for the monkeys. The mother and two little boys held out bananas. The monkeys walked up to them and took them out of their hands. The little girl clung to her father for dear life when the monkeys approached. We wondered if these monkeys would try to demand a tribute from us as well. We quickly tried to think if we had any food on us.

We then saw a father with two young sons. He wanted a photo of his two little boys with the monkeys. One of his little boys was absolutely terrified of us and started to cry. We took the best photo we could despite the kid freaking out, and took down his address. A man playing a stringed instrument with a bow walked with us as we exited the gardens.

On our ride back to the hotel, we stopped at a small convenience store grocery to buy some Diwali items. As Mukul picked up things like Cadbury chocolate bars and Fantas, it soon became more than he could carry. He motioned that he needed a hand basket and a teenaged boy soon brought one, and his services came along with it. Mukul would point out what he wanted and the boy would put it into the hand basket and carry it, following Mukul around the store. This was something that we hadn't encountered before, your own personal shopping assistant. The products in the convenience store were similar to what you would find in a convenience store or drug store in the U.S. Though we didn't recognize all of the brands, the products themselves were similar.

After that it was becoming dark, and we drove by the Taj Umaid Bhawan Palace hotel to try to get some night photos (it looked gorgeous all lit up, and we had seen it off in the distance from the fort this afternoon). This was the place which had a $60 cover charge for drinks. Too rich for our blood, but we would settle for some photos. However, security was very tight and it was a tense and uncomfortable situation. The security guards were clearly suspicious of us and our vehicle, even parked a good distance away on the road. Mukul tried to explain but with their properties having been the site of terrorism attacks in Mumbai, they weren't taking any chances. So we aborted the photo shoot and headed back to our own hotel, Ajit Bahwan. Guess we just weren't destined to see the Umaid Bahwan Palace.

When we got back to our hotel, we decided to eat once again in the outdoor dining room. Mukul was so happy that I had found an alcoholic drink that I liked (how could you go wrong with vodka and fresh delicious pineapple juice?) that he ordered a round for all of us. We enjoyed a Maharani Kebab platter, paneer tikka, garlic naan, cheese naan, and laal maas. I repeated my drink, and the guys opted for a beer as their second round.

After a relaxing dinner, we went back to the room and Mukul let me borrow his laptop. I wrote and posted a blog post about Jodhpur and then wrote in the journal. We went to sleep at 10:30.