jaipur – The Timber Trawler

Gagron, Ramgarh and Kalinjar: An Inquiry into the Antiquities of Upper Vindhya Range

The little one touched down in late February on his annual visit to the homeland, and as has been the family’s wont, we set out on another self-driven road trip. This time I wanted to introduce my little brother to the pink-splashed, fort-dotted landscape of Jaipur. But that was not all of the plan – the plan also included exploring the antiquities lying in the upper Vindhya hill ranges.

One of those long-distance trips that uncharacteristically start at noon, it was the perfect opportunity to check out the Delhi-Mumbai Expressway (DME) which had just opened for the public. And soon we would be in Jaipur and climbing the hairpin bends up the Aravallis to reach Nahargarh fort in pitch darkness.

Following a quick family sight-seeing session in Jaipur, we crossed the Chambal river & Kota city onto the tiger-rich Mukundra Hills in pursuit of a hill-cum-water fort which had eluded me in my last two attempts – once due to floods and the other time, due to paucity of time. We then proceeded to a geological marvel in the form of a Meteorite Impact Crater (MIC) in the middle of nowhere, which also is home to a mysterious ancient Shiva temple.

Then we skirted around the Kuno National Park to push into Bundelkhand, touching some places that formed the backdrop at crucial junctures in the history of Bundelkhand, as well as of British India. We then advanced to that land of exotic temples – Khajuraho, which would then lead us to an intriguing fort straight out of the scenes of an Indiana Jones movie.

Highlights of the trip

Gagron Fort

A 12th century hill fort that also doubles up as a water fort, by virtue of lying on the confluence of 2 rivers, with one river winding around the hill supporting the fort, giving protection by water on 3 sides. The fort itself is akin to a ship with the watchtower called Ram Burj situated at the fort’s edge where standing feels as if standing on a ship’s bow. The fort ramparts afford views of the sparsely vegetated rocky surface of the hill with the aquamarine Kali Sindh flowing along the hill base on one side and of the Ahu river on the other side. This fort rounds up for me, the six hill forts of Rajasthan that constitute a UNESCO World Heritage Site series.

Ramgarh Crater

A Meteorite Impact Crater (MIC) formed more than 600 million years ago. The site is characterized by a rim of hills in the shape of a circle with only a narrow pass providing access to the inner area. At the centre of the crater are the Bhand Devra Temple, a 10th century Shiva temple, and a pond abounding in water lilies and lotus. Once formally recognized by the Earth Impact Database, this would be the second largest MIC in India.

A perennial pond ensconced in the crater

Orchha

A sleepy yet historically ornate riverside town of Orchha, hidden away from the hustle & bustle of the main roads. The palace complex housing two large palaces, the Chaturbhuj temple and the chhatris (memorials) on the Betwa river evoke a sense of nostalgia for a time gone by. It was established by Bundelas in the 16th century AD and named so because it was apparently “hidden” inside forests.

Garh Kundar

An enigmatic palace perched atop a rocky outcrop in the Bundelkhand region that is accessed after driving for a long time in the wilderness. It served as the residence of the Bundelas before Orchha was founded. There also exists a legend of betrayal and beguiling intrigue between two warring clans, leading to the murder of a groom’s procession in the underground caverns of the fort.

Raneh Falls

A series of waterfalls in the canyon formed by the Ken river. One can see granite in varying shades of colours ranging from pink, red to grey.

Khajuraho

Perhaps, one of the best known places of India, home to picture-perfect temples with exquisite workmanship in the carvings and sculptures dotting the structures.

Kalinjar Fort

A place so ancient that it finds mention in mythological texts, with the fort being so important that it became the scene of many a battle and many an invasion, leading to its control passing through many dynasties from the Guptas, the Chedis during the times of Buddha to Mauryas to Chandelas to Mughals and finally to British hands.

The fort sits on a flat-top hill, sprawling across a vast area replete with forest, ponds, and palaces. However, the most remarkable of the monuments is a temple formed out of a cave in the hillside, with the entrance embellished with a ruined pillared stone structure. The stone steps leading down to the temple are adorned with figures and caves carved into the rocky hillside that immediately transport one into the realm of perilous treasure hunts portrayed in an Indiana Jones adventure.

The Neelkanth temple sits on the hillside, accessed by climbing down a flight of stairs

Road Trip at a glance

Of Steps, a Stepwell and a Salt Lake: Bairat, Abhaneri and Sambhar

In August-end, a full month after the 2nd vaccine shot, we finally gathered the courage to venture out on a 1000+km road trip. It would also be my first ever 1000+km driving on my own, after having learnt driving a few months prior. Moving to the suburbs of Gurgaon has meant that I now live at the gateway to my most favourite area of this great country – Rajasthan (though it only ties with Odisha for my affection!). So, it was only natural that my first long drive be to places in Rajasthan that have been on my bucket list for ages now.

Beejak ki Pahadi, Bairat

In a nook in the Aravallis, near a town called Bairat, are remains of a Buddhist Monastery of unknown antiquity, where Ashokan inscriptions from around 3rd century BC have been found. It can be reached by veering off the Delhi-Jaipur Expressway 70km before Jaipur on NH 248A, then taking a right turn onto a narrow road from Bairat town, and finally, taking a mix of long flight of steps and ramps to the top of a hill.

Bairat or erstwhile Viratnagar itself is said to have been founded by King Virata, in whose kingdom the five Pandavas (of Mahabharata) spent the thirteenth year of their exile in disguise. The site of the monastery affords a majestic view of the valley below and undulating hills on the horizon.

P.S.: I came to know later that this is one of the oldest places of worship that we have recorded history of in India .

Abhaneri

A quaint little village south of Alwar that is home to an exquisite stepwell, Chand Baori, an engineering marvel in its own right and a well regarded temple dedicated to Harshat Mata. Both of these monuments are said to be 1200 years old – the stepwell’s beauty is something that can only be grasped upon seeing for oneself.

Sambhar Lake

A place that had been on my wish list since I was a schoolboy – it contributes roughly 9% of India’s total salt production and plays host to migratory birds. With swathes of white stretching as far as the eye can see, one cannot be far off calling this a mini Rann-of-Kachh. I had heard that one could spot flamingos here, but nothing had prepared me for the sight of thousands and thousands of flamingos resembling a pink stripe stretching from one end to the other. Now, if only I had binoculars, or even a DSLR camera, at hand!

Pushkar

The holy city, according to legend, was the only place where Brahma would be worshipped as per Savitri’s curse (though a few more Brahma temples have cropped up elsewhere since). Also, as per legend, the Pushkar Lake was the source of the mythical Sarasvati river. Pushkar is nestled within the Aravallis, with amazing views of the hills against the clear skies. Another major attraction is the annual camel fair held here.

Ajmer

Separated from Pushkar by Aravallis and connected by a pass called the Pushkar Ghati, Ajmer is home to Dargah Ajmer Sharif and a gargantuan lake. Unfortunately, we could not visit any place in Ajmer.

Kishangarh

The capital of a former princely state of the same name, home to an elegant looking fort, which unfortunately is not open to tourists, and the vast Gundolav lake reminiscent of the lakes of Udaipur. Just outside the city is a National Geological Monument dedicated to Nepheline Syenite, traces of which dating back to 1590 million years to 1910 million years can be found.

Trip Summary

Day 1
Gurgaon to Beejak Ki Pahari – 165 km, 4 hours
Beejak ki Pahari to Abhaneri – 120 km, 3 hours
Abhaneri to Ajmer – 250 km, 4 hours

Day 2
Ajmer to Sambhar Lake – 100km, 2.5 hours
Sambhar Lake to Pushkar – 105 km, 2.5 hours

Day 3
Pushkar to Kishangarh – 40km, 1 hour
Kishangarh to Gurgaon – 360km, 8 hours

Total – 1140km

How to reach Beejak ki Pahadi
No public transport available, so you will have to use your private transportation (personal vehicle or cab). It is a 5 hour drive from Delhi, 2 hour drive from Jaipur.

How to reach Sambhar Lake
While there is a handful of trains from Jaipur to Sambhar Lake railway station, the timings may not be suitable for a day trip. Moreover, seeing around Sambhar Lake area after getting down from the Sambhar Lake station might be a hassle due to paucity of local transport options. In the absence of public transport, you would want to either use your personal vehicle or cab. It is a 1.5 hour drive from Jaipur.

Mandawa: Impressions from a First-time Visit

Eager to get away from the humdrum of our job, my colleague Amit and I, decided to make a weekend getaway to Jaipur.

This being my third visit to Jaipur and Amit’s first, I drew from my previous experience, and we booked a day-long package with an auto-rickshaw driver, who took us to Hawa Mahal, Jantar Mantar, Amer fort, Jaigarh fort, and finally, to Nahargarh fort. Later, in the evening, we got a taste of Rajasthani culture and cuisine at Chokhi Dhani.

Now, where do we go to the next day? I really wanted to go to Sambhar Lake, but not able to find any information on how to reach there, we considered other places, which is when I remembered Mandawa, from two movies released a couple of years ago, namely, P.K. and Bajarangi Bhaijaan. It turned out Mandawa could be reached by public transport, complemented by a bit of local transport.

So, the next day at 8 AM, we set off by public road transport to Mukundgarh. As we passed Sikar, and then, Nawalgarh, I was fascinated by the set-ups of the towns – lying as disjointed clusters in the midst of the semi-arid landscape, with not much construction found along the road connecting the towns. The road cutting through each town was flanked on both sides by houses with their facades aligned, albeit in a jagged manner, with other houses on their respective side of the road. The houses, mostly painted yellow or white, wore an old world charm, transporting you to at least a hundred or more years back.

Getting down at Mukundgarh, we got around to looking for conveyance to Mandawa, when a strange-looking vehicle drew up alongside us. It was an auto-rickshaw which was decked up with fancy colourful decorations, with even more decorations on the inside, and covered with a canopy that formed a closed compartment! We were so intrigued that we hopped into the fanciful auto-rickshaw without even haggling.

As we advanced on the road to Mandawa, we saw the landscape gradually becoming more and more arid, and as we got nearer to Mandawa, we could see on both sides endless expanses of undulating sandy flats with a few sprinklings of low trees and shrub, even as villages each comprising just a handful of huts greeted us from time to time. Soon, we saw a bigger cluster of houses, and were welcomed by an arched gate on a wall that seemingly enclosed a town inside – Mandawa was here.

As we entered the gate, we were ushered in by two arrays of verandahs of the buildings abutting either side of the narrow road. Some buildings hosted shops, some others were residences, and some were merely the entrance to a larger building standing behind the front row.

Before we could get a hang of the place, we entered a bylane that apparently led to the Mandawa castle, but failing to locate the gate, we kept walking, past many havelis, until we reached an open area somewhere adjacent to the castle. We saw a shanty serving Maggi instant noodles and tea, and decided to first fill our tummies, while scratching our heads as to how really to explore the place, in the absence of a guide or any prior knowledge.

This is when appeared a boy – someone we would later refer to as Chhutku – barely 8 years of age, with disheveled hair, dressed in crumpled, undersized clothes, who sensing we were the touristy types, offered to show us around, for a price, and kept insisting on it until we had finished our meal. Partly to humour him, and partly impressed with his enterprise at such an early age, we relented.

So, courtesy of Chhutku, we saw a handful of havelis, with their painted facades, part covering the balconies jutting out and peering over the street, and part forming the front wall proudly strutting their evocatively painted visages, all but weathered by time. One particular haveli, Jhunjhunwala Haveli, aptly nicknamed the Golden Haveli, houses a room with intricately painted golden-coloured decorations, along with artifacts from a time gone by – giving us a glimpse of the lives and times of the merchants that built and lived in the lavish residences.

Frescoes on the inside of a haveli in Mandawa

After the tour of the havelis, Chhutku bid us adieu at the Mandawa Castle, where we learnt the castle had long since been operating as a hotel, but was also open to tourists in lieu of a hefty fee. Nevertheless, we took the opportunity to see around the castle, get views of the town and the countryside from the rooftop, and take pictures around the sprawling swimming pool.

At long last, darkness fell, and it was time to confront the dilemma of whether to stay the night or return to Delhi – it was resolved when we learnt that there was a 10 PM public road transport bus running directly to Delhi. Following dinner at a Tripadvisor-recognized restaurant, we boarded the bus, still not having got a bearing of where exactly we were located with respect to Delhi.

By 5 o’clock in the morning though, when I opened my eyes as we entered Delhi, I was still hungover from the overwhelming and intriguing air of the quaint town that stood astride the trading routes of the past. Although located amidst the barrenness of the desert, the unique vantage point of the town in those times ensured that its mien and ambience remained anything but barren.

A Tryst with the Thar: Jodhpur and Jaisalmer

March 2014. Spring was here, again, bringing with it pangs of fernweh – a feeling of ‘far-sickness’, a longing for distant places – nagging away at my being. The train of heartbreak had barely left the station, all the more reason why I needed to get away in the opposite direction, all on my own, reinforcing at least to myself, the sense of liberation that came of detachment from all things that brew emotional dependence.

However, I could not detach myself from the yearning for the distant lands I had read about in school or seen on TV – the so-called sand dunes and camel rides in the Thar desert in and around Jaisalmer and Bikaner. And then there was Jodhpur, which a General Knowledge book addressed as the Blue City, something about the colour describing a city only piquing the curiosity to see the place in person. I had also taken a liking for forts, my favorite being Chittorgarh, and all these places in the Thar – Jaisalmer, Bikaner and Jodhpur – wore their forts on their sleeves.

After gaining ample confidence from my solo trips to Jaipur and Udaipur in the two preceding years, it was now time to up the ante or increase the dosage, if you will, given how the duration of my previous two Rajasthan trips had incremented by a day each, with the Jaipur sojourn being one day long and the Udaipur one being for two days. Also, the destination on the second trip, Udaipur, was farther from Delhi than was Jaipur, making it imperative that I strike out even further into Rajasthan this year. With these thoughts in mind, choosing the Holi long weekend, Holi falling on 17th March 2014, a Monday, I straightaway booked well in advance a train ticket for my return from Jaisalmer for the evening of Holi.

Finally, on the evening of 13th March, a Friday, I was standing again at Iffco Chowk after office waiting for the next state road transport bus headed to Jaipur. On the bus, it was a familiar feeling with familiar sights, passing through the outskirts of Gurgaon, then passing through the hill forest beyond Manesar, where I remember listening to the Mad Season album by Matchbox Twenty, and then crossing the barrage near Rewari. By 10 PM, I was in Jaipur, where after having a Rajasthani dinner, I hopped onto a state transport bus to Jodhpur, getting a seat beside a foreigner lady accompanied by his Indian guide. By 6 AM next morning, I was in Jodhpur, where like in my Udaipur trip, I simply walked some distance and checked-in to a budget hotel. And started feeling feverish!

Exploring the Blue City

Nevertheless, feeling feverish was a familiar feeling on my solo trips, which I countered this time, by taking a paracetamol tablet following a breakfast of poha. Then, like on my previous trips, I hired an auto-rickshaw with a whole-day tour package that I determined based on the recommendations given by the hotel receptionist, and reached Umaid Bhawan Palace, the current residence of the ruling dynasty of Jodhpur. Located on a hillock, the construction of the palace was started in 1929 by the Maharaja Umaid Singh, 37th Rathore ruler of Marwar state to provide employment to famine-strike farmers, and was completed in 1943, when the Maharaja started occupying it.

From there, I proceeded to Madore, a place that I only learnt about in Jodhpur, located about 8 km from the city, purported to be the native place of Mandodari, Ravana’s wife. Historically, Mandore, the seat of the Gurjara-Pratiharas in the 6th century AD, later became the capital of the Rathores before Rao Jodha shifted to the newly-founded city of Jodhpur. At Mandore, I was completely mesmerized by the scenes unfolding in front me – beautifully manicured lawns surrounding sandstone temples and cenotaphs, with a stone path trailing beside a canal abounding in lotus and lilies, that crossed a water tank and winded up the hill, with a the ruins of a fort lying on top of the hill. From the hilltop, spires of temples, the domes of the cenotaphs and the lushness of the lawns down in the garden below presented the most eye-pleasing views.

Leaving Mandore with reluctance, the autorickshaw driver drove me to Balsamand Lake, on the banks of which lies a summer palace, and from there, returned inside the city, stopping at Jaswant Thada. The Jaswant Thada, a cenotaph built of Makrana Marble for Maharaja Jaswant Singh II in 1899, itself is located on the top of a flat, barren red-coloured hill of igneous rock, only punctuated with water pools and barely any vegetation, and has the scenic backdrop of the Mehrangarh fort on one side. After admiring the striking landscape around the Jaswant Thada, I moved on to the Mehrangarh fort.

The construction of Mehrangarh fort was started in 1459 AD by Rao Jodha, who founded Jodhpur city after moving from Mandore the same year, with most of the current structures being constructed in the 17th century. The fort stands atop a 122 metre high rocky hill overlooking the city, with its distinct red sandstone profile with the red coloured hill base standing out and visible from long distances all around. I walked through the numerous tall arched gates, and then gawked at the imposing palaces and exquisitely done interiors, before ending the tour at the raised long platform lining the fort wall the end of the fort where the cannons stand.

Descending from Mehrangarh, we again headed to the outskirts, this time in the west passing on a road flanked by kumat plants with their golden coloured ears, to Kaylana lake, an artificial lake built by Pratap Singh in 1872, in the midst of igneous rock formations. After spending the sunset on the Kaylana Lake, I returned to the city, stopping at the clock tower, and retired to bed, after a day well spent, with my heart throbbing in anticipation of seeing the desert the next day.

Off to the Dunes

The next morning, I left the hotel and was inside a road transport bus headed to Jaisalmer by 8.30 AM. As we left the city, the landscape became progressively arid, with it becoming more distinctively barren and sandy as the bus approached Pokhran, where khejri trees stood scattered with large expanses of empty space between each other. I distinctly remember listening to the album The Bends by Radiohead as I marvelled at the white-yellowish sparsely vegetated soil shimmering under the sun. At 3 PM, as I stepped down at Jaisalmer, a streak of electrified excitement passed through my body. Soon, I was picked up by a local who I had called beforehand based on a colleague’s referral.

Landscape on the way to Jaisalmer somewhere between Jodhpur and Pokhran

The first sight that struck me as I rode pillion on the local’s motorcycle was that of the Jaisalmer fort radiating in all its golden glory with multiple golden coloured stony turrets stacked one after the other along the edge of a golden coloured rocky hillock. It was the physical manifestation of the images that I had created in my mind from reading in a book or hearing in the context of a movie (Sonar Kella by Satyajit Ray) or seeing in pictures or documentaries. But stepping physically inside that physical manifestation of my mental image had to wait, for there was yet another mental image born from childhood dreams that I had to physically soak in first – the sand dunes.

View of Jaisalmer fort (‘Sonar Kella’, or golden fort, as nicknamed by Satyajit Ray)

So checking into a budget hotel at the foot of the hill on which the fort is located, I rented a scooter from a nearby shop, and armed with a map and directions provided by the rent-a-bike shop scooted off towards Sam. As I left the periphery of the city, habitation and vegetation disappeared, while the road dipped and rose in curves streaking across the arid landscape shooting and disappearing into the horizon. Alongside the road, stood tall windmills in the midst of tall grass, with the skyline in the background lined by a long sandy ridge running from one end to another end of the purview.

As I rode up and down the wavy road, stopping at places to click photographs of the landscape, the thin clusters of huts and the camels either solitary or in groups whiling away time, I was welcomed by flat patches of sand with sparse vegetation on both sides. After almost an hour of riding, resorts in the form of desert camps started appearing, signalling the arrival of the Sam Sand Dunes. Right at the location where the Jaisalmer local’s contact person at Sam Sand Dunes had indicated earlier over the phone, there stood a camel with its minder waiting for me. And soon, the camel, with its minder and I seated on its back, heaved with a jerk from its kneeling position to stand upright, even as I saw the ground beneath sinking away, and lurched into the vast expanse of shimmering mounds of sand lying in front of me.

Glimpses of the landscape on the way to Sam Sand Dunes from Jaisalmer city

After staggering up and down the peaks and troughs of the dunes for about a kilometer, the camel stopped, and the minder beckoned me to get down, and soak in the atmosphere and the sands. As I sat on the sand, sifting through it, taking a fistful of it, and letting it stream down from my hands, I was overcome by the delight and glee of a child that has been left to play in a theme park. I sat marvelling at nature’s unique creation, observing the ribbed contours formed on the sand due to effects of wind, and the trails of footprints left behind by camels and humans and the tracks of the wheel carts swishing across the undulations. Beholding the sun setting behind the dunes, I turned around only to be awestruck by the near full moon hovering just over the horizon in the opposite direction.

In the twilight, I trod by foot over the sand dunes back to the point where I had parked my scooter, and headed across the road to the resort where the Jaisalmer local had arranged for my dinner. After witnessing a folk programme of Rajasthani music and dance, and gorging on the buffet of Rajasthani cuisine, I headed back on my scooter to the city. Riding all alone at 8.30 PM in the night, with the seas of moonlit sands glimmering all the way to the horizon on both sides of road, the near full moon hanging right over my head keeping me company and the cool breeze blowing against my face, I reckoned that I had transcended all bounds of the material world – I was floating in a meditative plane, wanting the ride to never end. It was pure bliss.

Folk programme inside a desert camp resort

Desert Frenzy

The next day was going to be jam-packed, what with my return scheduled on the 6 PM train that evening. So, I started around 9.30 AM after breakfast on the scooter, and headed back on the same road leading to Sam Sand Dunes. Midway though, I took a left turn and headed off on the narrow road piercing the desert, and reached Kuldhara, an abandoned village, also touted as a haunted site, right in the middle of the desert. At Kuldhara, there lay rows of abandoned stone houses with only their walls remaining, alongside a temple around which the town’s life seems to have centered around. Adjacent to the lies a garden dubbed Jurassic Cactus Park, with a fascinating assortment of cactus varieties.

Established in the 13th century by Paliwal Brahmins who had emigrated from Pali, and is said as per a local legend, to have been abandoned overnight and cursed by the villagers when the prime minister Salim Singh set eyes on the village chief’s daughter and threatened the villagers with dire consequences if they defied his wish. However, research seems to suggest that Kuldhara and other such villages nearby were abandoned gradually over time, mainly due to damage due to earthquakes and dwindling water supply, and the abandonment seems to have been precipitated by early 19th century due to the oppressive tax regime of Jaisalmer state propagated by Salim Singh.

Pushing further into the desert, all alone on the scooter, with nary a human in sight, I headed towards Khabha. About half an hour later, passing through sands with occasional patches of 3 feet tall grass beneath some of which, one or more camels would be resting, I beheld a ridge, resembling a plateau on which stood a compact golden-coloured fort. Ascending up the ridge, I was soon inside the Khabha fort, with tiny turrets lining its peripheral wall, where I was amazed to find a museum of natural history. The fort stood all alone in desolation, a lone sentinel on the edge of a low cliff in the middle of the desert, overlooking, in the escarpment below, the stony ruins of an abandoned village, a sight similar to that I had just seen in Kuldhara.

Somewhere in the desert on the way to Khabha

Leaving Khabha, I rode back towards the Sam road, and crossed it to move over to the other side, where the landscape was relatively greener, and then riding parallel to the Sam road but towards Jaisalmer, I reached Lodurva, which was the capital of the Bhattis before Rawal Jaisal founded Jaisalmer in 1156 CE. At Lodurva, I visited the Shree Parshvanath temple, dedicated to the 23rd Tirthankara, built in the 9th century in yellow limestone and sandstone, which was destroyed in 1152 by invaders, and later renovated and repaired in 1615 AD. Riding further, I was accosted by a couple of youth on a motorcycle who were intent on smearing rangoli, since it was Holi. I sped as fast as I could, with the duo in hot pursuit, finally managing to lose them, and only stopped, nearer to Jaisalmer, at the Amar Singh Jain temple.

It was now 1 PM, and I had on my wish list, still one more outstation site to see, but this site was located on the other side of the city. Calculating the time I had in hand, I crossed Jaisalmer city, and sped on the Barmer highway to reach Akal Wood Fossil Park, lying about 18 km south-east of Jaisalmer, where I was welcomed by a couple of emus and an assortment of wood fossils dating back to 200 million years. I rode through the desolate desolate brown rocky land, coming across more preserved fossilized wood dating and pairs of pillars for which there was no explanation. After wandering for a while inside the fascinating park, I headed back to the city, where I stopped at Gadisar Lake, an artificial lake created in 1156 to serve as the main water source for the then newly-founded city.

Welcomed by emus in Akal Wood Fossil Park

After surrendering the scooter at the rent-a-bike shop, at around 4 PM, I finally found myself inside Jaisalmer fort. Soon, I was walking through the streets of the bustling town lying inside the fort premises. After whizzing past the courtyards, corridors and halls in the palaces, I came upon the the alleys running along the ramparts of the fort, winding around the turrets, in maze-like form. Standing on the ramparts, I was treated to breathtaking views of the cityscape and the barren, desert landscape beyond it with its meeting point with the sky shrouded in a haze of sand, leaving me in a trance.

Panoramic view of the city and beyond from the ramparts of Jaisalmer fort

My reverie was broken when the local who had arranged my accommodation and camel ride at Sam Sand Dunes called, asking if I was prepared to be dropped at the railway station. Walking down the fort road, I was not able to escape an assault of rangoli launched by a passerby, rendering patches of colour on my shirt and hair, leaving me fuming. But then, I saw a group of white tourists who had completely immersed themselves enjoyment of the festival of colours, and I told myself, what’s the big deal?, and greeted them, followed by exchanges of polite colour smearing.

As I mounted the motorcycle to sit behind the Jaisalmer local, with my backpack lugging on my back, I took one parting look at the mesmerizing golden fort sitting proudly and timelessly on the rock. An hour later, I was inside the train, fondly scrolling through the gallery on my Nokia Lumia phone, with the photographs on my phone, the smudges of rangoli on my person, and the wistfulness in my heart, being the only remaining and undying vestiges of my tryst with the Thar.

Trip Map of Jodhpur

Trip Map of Jaisalmer

A Jaunt through Jaipur

March 2012. Spring was drawing to a close, and before the Delhi summer started knocking on the city’s doors, I decided, emboldened by first ever solo trip from the previous year, to set out on my next solo trip – my first ever trip to Rajasthan.

My fascination with Rajasthan had begun while growing up in Odisha through a myriad of stimuli – black-and-white pictures of the Hawa Mahal and Jantar Mantar in an English literature textbook, a travelogue of Bikaner and Jaisalmer in my Odia literature textbook, sketches of the Vijaya Stambh and the legend of Panna Dai of Chittaurgarh in Tinkle Magazine, images of Sambhar Lake and Dilwara Temples of Mount Abu in geography textbook, and so on. And now, close to three years after I had moved to Delhi, it was time to indulge the fascination and see in person what I had seen only in pictures. What better place than Jaipur, the city in Rajasthan nearest to Delhi, to begin the exploration with?

On the many occasions that I had passed through Dhaula Kuan, I had seen buses having Jaipur written on their boards waiting to pick passengers up, and had wondered as to when I would get a chance to board one of those. I had seen the same buses stopping at Iffco Chowk in Gurgaon very close to where I worked. And so on the evening of 23rd March 2o12, an evening that I remember very clearly, leaving the office at around 4.30 PM, I stood at Iffco Chowk, squinting through the fog of dust enveloping the area, for the next road transport bus headed to Jaipur. By 5.30 PM, I was on a bus, not seated by the window, but comfortable enough at the fourth row from the rear.

The bus kept moving through the suburbs of Gurgaon for a while, and then rose up a gentle slope through a jungle of shrub, and a while later passed through another wooded area that seamlessly melded into a barrage. These are the sights I remember from around the time of sunset and the twilight before darkness fell. The bus stopped at multiple places, interspersed with spells of zooming on the highway whenever possible, even as people alighted from, and new passengers boarded the bus. A air of Haryanvi and Rajasthani-flavoured Hindi hung inside the bus, while I sat in utter anticipation of my arrival in Jaipur.

Around 10, the city walls appeared and the bus passed an arched gate – Jaipur was here. Soon, I got down at the Sindhi Camp bus-stand, looking clueless, which was obviously picked up by an cycle-rickshaw puller, who accosted me proposing to take me to a hotel. Not knowing anything better, and given the time of day, I was soon on the rickshaw, when the rickshaw puller asked me if I would be interested in staying in a hotel that featured in a movie Chalo Dilli, released the previous year, to which I agreed. Thus, in half-an-hour I found myself inside a room with no window in Hotel Red Tomato Palace. Needless to say, thanks to the absence of ventilation, compounded by the excitement of seeing Jaipur the next day, I did not get a wink of sleep the whole night.

The whole night, questions swam in my mind – how would Jaipur city would look like? The GK book I read as a child addressed Jaipur as the Pink City – would Jaipur really look pink, and if it did, would be it because of the houses, or because of the soil or the skies? At long last, morning came, and I headed, with a foldable brochure on Jaipur sight-seeing in hand, to the bus-stand. As informed by the hotel receptionist, there is a system in place in Jaipur, whereby auto-rickshaw drivers offer fixed price package tours of Jaipur. Arriving at the bus-stand, I did not even have to try, as an autorickshaw driver promptly approached me with offers for many types of package tours – I chose a single day tour worth 700 rupees.

The tour started with the Jaipur Zoo, which I only agreed to keep in the package because I was curious to see what a zoo in a city with a desert in the vicinity, looked like. Sauntering through the zoo, I moved just across the road to Albert Hall Museum, the oldest museum in Rajasthan, where artifacts displayed also include those from Ancient India and Egypt, the highlight being an Egyptian Mummy. It was also at Albert Hall Museum where I learnt I could buy a single consolidated ticket that would allow entry to many of the monuments in Jaipur, including for Jantar Mantar, Amer Fort and Hawa Mahal. From there, as I moved towards Jantar Mantar, a site that had captured my imagination from when I was a kid, I first beheld the arrays of shops painted pink, explaining the epitaph of ‘the Pink City’.

Built in between 1728 and 1734 by the avid astronomer king Sawai Jai Singh, the Jantar Mantar comprises 19 astronomical instruments built from stone and marble, that allow observation of astronomical positions with the naked eye. This, along with similar observatories later built at 5 other locations, including in Delhi and Ujjain, helped in more accurate calculation of celestial positions for the astronomical tables that were continuously used in India for over a century. After going through alternating periods of use and disuse, interspersed with some spells of restoration, including some during the British colonial rule, and a final restoration by 2006, it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2010.

From Jantar Mantar, I moved through the street lined by pink-coloured shops through the Old City centre towards the hills that stood overlooking the city in the north. Soon, the autorickshaw passed by the expansive Man Sagar Lake, and climbed up the road that ran into the hill. A little up the hill, I stopped at Kanak Vrindavan, a beautiful garden with a temple, fountains, trees and chhatris, built by Sawai Jai Singh 275 years ago, where scenes of many movies, most notably, Lamhe, have been shot. Further, passing through a long stretch of the road cut through the hill and was lined with wood on both sides, the autorickshaw finally reached a wide section on the road, where countless vehicles were parked. Beside the section lay a lake with a spice garden in the middle, and above on the crest of the hill stood an imposing fort – Amer fort.

The Amer fort, built in 1592 AD by the Kachhwaha king Man Singh, became the mainstay of the ruling family of Amer or Dhundar state, which was ruled by the Kachhwahas since 1037 AD. Amer, the area ensconced in the Aravallis where the fort is located, was the capital of the Kachhwahas until 1727, when Sawai Jai Singh II built a fortified city called Jaipur at the foothills of the Aravallis. The fort itself was expanded by successive kings, and today consists of the six main sections, with the temple dedicated to Sila Devi, prominently standing in the first courtyard, a Diwan-i-aam or Public Audience Hall, many palaces including Sukh Mahal, Sheesh Mahal and that of Man Singh I. A tunnel, that runs partly subterranean, leads to Jai Garh fort, a military fortress situated at a nearby peak. Views of the landscape from the fort are breathtaking.

Now it already being 3.30 PM, I headed back towards the Old City centre, again stopping by the Man Sagar lake, and reaching the Hawa Mahal just in time before it closed for the day. Hawa Mahal, another structure that had fascinated me since my childhood, perhaps best typifies the character of the Old City, with its pink coloured facade. The palace, built in 1799 by Sawai Pratap Singh, the grandson of Jai Singh II, the founder of Jaipur, is unique because of the rows of latticed windows, small and big, with some decorated with coloured glasses, adorning the facade making the facade resemble a honeycomb. Walking through the multiple levels of the Hawa Mahal, I got excellent views of the city skyline as well as of the hills in the distance.

With the day drawing to a close, I bid adieu to the autorickshaw driver, and rested for a couple of hours in the hotel room. I pondered about what to do the next day, but soon started feeling a fever setting in – something that I had encountered on my first ever solo trip the previous year too. It may have been a combination of sleep deprivation and the day-long exposure to the sun, but I decided it was best to rest at my place in Delhi as opposed to in Jaipur. So, I checked out, had dinner, and caught an overnight bus to Delhi. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I was in Delhi the next morning, glad to get the whole Sunday to rest and recover from the fever.