- Jantar Mantar
- Jaipur City Palace
- Iswari Minar Swarg Suli
- the streets of Jaipur (2)
the now established routine of a breakfast of peelable fruit and toast presaged what would be a very busy and varied day. seeking a rickshaw we were, as usual, spoilt for choice, the Diggi's slightly isolated location and relatively high rates ensuring that it would always be a magnet for drivers keen to separate tourists from their money. we plumped for Ashok, a fairly big man wrapped in a terribly infectious smile, partly because his rates were very reasonable and within the range we expected, partly because he lives outside the hotel grounds, but mostly because we rather liked him, having spoken to him on the previous day (smooth talker!).
our first stop was the Janta Mantar, one of five such locations across India built by the astrologically-obsessed Jai Singh in the early 1700s.
Jai Singh was clearly a rather bright fellow - he designed all of the park's eighteen huge stone astronomical devices, including a 27 metre high sundial that was and remains accurate to 2 seconds. the whole location looks and feels like a super-modern sculpture park, but its sole purpose was to make predictions and define dates for auspicious occasions. with no cover and everything made of stone, the sun - already uncomfortably fierce that morning - bounced around the instruments in focused intensity.
the Jantar Mantar, with the Nahargarh Fort behind.
the Jantar Mantar - not a skatepark. honest.
we had bought an explanatory brochure on the way in but, written in the peculiar form of cod English of many Indian publications, it was difficult to understand the sentences at the best of times, let alone with added garbled astrology.
astronomical devices, Jantar Mantar observatory, Jaipur.
stunned by both the accuracy of the calculations required to construct such devices , but more so by the incessant heat, we crossed the road and bartered for some more camera batteries on the way to the City Palace, originally also constructed by Jai Singh and still the home of the royal family in Jaipur. the striking lemon yellow building is the original colour of the now Pink City, repainted a long time in the past to disguise poor building materials and give the city an air redolent of the Mughals' red sandstone.
Those parts that are open to the public celebrate the life, times and achievements of the maharajas, with special focus on their prowess at polo, naturally. ornate elephant gateways, salmon pink courtyards and pavilions of carved stone archways and verandas surround you.
one of the latter, the Mubarak Mahal, how houses the palace's textile collection, a resplendent treasure trove of royal wardrobes of the past featuring almost excessively embroidered formal and informal outfits for the maharaja princes, although if one lavish outfit created purely for the playing of billiards was 'informal,' then one imagines that it would be hard to ever totally relax in their company!
as with the Mughals, halls of public audience also featured, containing the palace's world famous urns, two solid silver receptacles over one and a half metres high and with a capacity of over 2,000 litres each, certified by Guinness as the largest craft silver objects in the world. music and singing was going on as part of a current Hindu festival, giving the courtyards a still lived-in allure.
giant silver urns, plus reflected us!through one entrance, the famous 'Peacock Courtyard' was marked by four stunning, decorated doorways, lying in the shadow of the seven storey, occupied palace itself.
Peacock Courtyard, details
from the top, the royal flag fluttered in the weak breeze, accompanied by a small duplicate, symbolic of a Mughal description of Jai Singh at a young age as 'one and a quarter maharajas,' an indication of his maturity and also of his superiority over mere mortal men and a tag that has stuck to this royal family ever since.
immersed in all of this decadence, we also toured the palace's well displayed and seemingly overstocked armoury, bursting with a fairly staggering number of implements designed to slice, gouge and maim, a repository no less alarming with the inclusion of a number of items with inlaid or pure, carved crystal hilts. here as everywhere else in the palace, liveried and turbaned attendants were in evidence. they are supposed to remind the visitor of the living monarchy of the palace, but their chief roles appear to be photography prevention in rooms where it was prohibited and, conversely, demanding tips rudely from anyone foolish enough to photograph them - after they had suggested it.
'you fool! now the tip is mine!'
with its extraordinary ivory painting and Persian rug-filled art gallery and overt opulence, the palace was like some sort of jewel-filled dream. for the first time in India, we really noticed the presence of other tourists being ferried around in compliant batches. we grabbed a drink on one of the courtyards, the sun an uncompromising and punishing constant high overhead.
nearby streets, Jaipur City Palace
we decided to pack in the seemingly short Iswari Minar Swarg Suli, a small minaret Jai Singh's wimpish son built to celebrate a rather minor military victory (he poisoned himself rather than take part in the return conflict). unlike the Palace, there was nobody here at all as we climbed its deceptively steep and considerable inner tiled, pigeon guano-filled ramp to a vantage point way up above Jaipur, much higher than we had anticipated. from the top of the structure, the name of which means 'heaven Piercing Minaret,' you can see the whole of Jaipur and its surrounding forts and hills. this bird's eye view also indicated that the famous pink colour appears predominantly on the road-facing buildings, with blue or unpainted facades comprising the majority of the remainder. it also revealed large parts of the old palace buildings to be in a sorry state of repair, far from the pristine elegance of the royal residences themselves.
around the City Palace, Jaipur
we were soon joined at this exalted height by Ravi, a highly talkative young Southern Indian whose father appeared to be a senior member of Jaipur's police department. we'd been chatting to him in the street on our way to the minaret. as is often the way, he was keen to try out his English (which as usual was excellent already) and chat, with only a much later and gentle request of 'please come and look at my shop.' we had quite a detailed discussion with him about some more weighty topics while standing in this eerie, including the knock-on difficulty faced by some shopkeepers due to tourist overpricing by others, the false assumption that all foreigners were rich and the equally untrue distinction made by many on the differences between Indians and Westerners, when everyone has the same coloured blood. fine sentiments indeed, muddied as ever by his insistence that he should call Edd 'sir' but not Edd him, and his description of Philippa as his sister but his good natured refusal to shake her hand, as his Hindu religion did not allow it. brothers under the skin indeed. a more engaging and energetic individual you could not hope to meet, but our plans took us in the wrong direction from his establishment and the effect of the omnipotent sun was beginning to be felt.
having already had a dry run, we re-trod the silk and cotton shops with more purpose. we frequented a number of shops in the bazaar and Philippa made several purchases, hardly surprising with the vast majority of clothing aimed at women and the men's limited selections barely making an impression on Edd's interest thus far. most young men in India appear to wear a uniform of horrible stone-washed jeans with fake creases and wear marks in all of the wrong places, allied with painful to look at garish shirts with patterns that would have been rejected as excessive by 70s designers. with a sharp, keen eye, Philippa was able to distinguish quickly between the mass produced and the beautifully crafted with ease. [Edd - my abiding memory of that afternoon's shopping expedition was the extended period Phil spent in a ribbon shop sequestered down a small side street, encircled by Hindi women bartering for accessories, well and truly through a sequinned looking glass among the outrageous rainbow colours pressed upon her by an incredibly well-run staff and owner, all packed into a space not quite large enough to swing a brocaded cat.]
'Help! i may never leave this shop!'
we got back to the Diggi later, after 3pm, and the non-financial toll of the day finally became apparent. we deduced from the next few hours that Edd had mild but dehabilitating heatstroke, brought on by too many hat-off-for-the-photograph moments today and probably the days before. his disorientation in Anokhi the previous afternoon was joined by headaches, gut aches and nausea, all classic symptoms. tepid and cold showers did nothing to assuage the effects and he had to abandon dinner before it arrived in quite a hurry. the only option was to sleep, significantly aided by our room's powerful AC, a rather downbeat end to a truly fascinating day, rich in experience and flooded with colour.
all our best
edd & philippa
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