To the Bat Cave!

Wednesday 14th May

- Bundi Palace, its beautiful murals and the bat cave
- hopeful train ticket purchases
- the Chittra Sala murals
- Taragarh Fort and its guardian monkeys

our room, centre, with Philippa and Neema on the left and the Palace proper looming above.

there are occasions when one have timed things better and others where events are completely beyond one's control. one of the first sounds of the morning was that of a rickshaw mounted with loudspeakers driving around the town importing bad news. a number of bombs had gone off in Jaipur, instigators unknown. many dozens of people had been killed. Jaipur had introduced some sort of curfew, and Rajasthan had apparently decided to follow suit. in a show of solidarity, all shops and businesses had been told to close for the day, meaning that it was highly unlikely that we would be able to phone anyone today or use the internet. national monuments were still open, apparently, which really didn't make any sense at all, but we took all of the hints and moved the palace visit up to the front of our day's plans. we had a very simple breakfast of masala tea and sweet lassi interrupted yet again by Raj's younger brother and his tour guide spiel. we had a quick wander up and down the main streets outside, but pretty much everything was indeed closed as ordered. so, defeated, we went back up the hill and paid out entrance fee to Bundi's palace.

at the gate we ran into Enrico, the Italian we'd met the evening before. he'd made the same decision as us as regards things to do for the morning. Raj's brother Jai then appeared yet again, but we all brushed him off and he sloped away to finally leave us alone. for the next few hours, we three would be the only people bar official staff in the palace complex.

Bundi palace.

the 16th and 17th Century palace is an ever-rising assemblage of sheer walls, cupolas and the odd dome in a cream stone blasted and bleached by the sun. it rises in increments up a steep slope before being crowned with a riot of final turrets and cupolas. higher still, the crumbling ramparts of the Taragarh Fort line the top of the hill, on one of the ridged valleys that hem Bundi in on three sides.

the route to the main entrance of the palace is the customary steep, double-back affair, paved by large, rough chunks of rock. a short distance, it bends back on itself in the time honoured fashion before arriving at the Hathi Pol.

as the name suggests, its gateway is crowned with large carved elephants, an over-riding themes for the complex, from our guesthouse and throughout. however, Bundi is most famous for its painted murals.

a simple blue and yellow example covering the ceiling of the Hathi Pol was a delight, but there would be many, far more impressive examples to come.

the sprawling palace can't be explored in its entirety by tourists, but that would probably take several days of wandering through its narrow staircases, open plan courtyards and painted rooms. it's one of only two places in Bundi that charge an entrance fee (everything else is free to enter), but you certainly get your money's worth. the palace may have bats in most corners and be crumbling in many parts, but this seems to add to, rather than detract from, the overall impression. Philippa thought that it reminded her a lot of the BBC's Ghormenghast adaptation.

looking past the marble throne to the entrance under the Hathi Pol, Bundi Palace.

we liked the marble throne overlooking the main courtyard and the columns topped with elephant brackets, but above all we loved the murals. not only were there many alcoves, walls and ceilings covered in brightly coloured images of hunting, elephant fights, religious tales and scenes glorifying the lives of the maharajas, but the detail in which they were finished was remarkable. many were isolated, or damaged due to the ravages of time (and animals), but they were some of the best - if not the best - such murals we had seen.





there were whole stories spread out across the walls, others were single scene portraits. one room - the Badal Mahal, or Cloud Palace - adorned on all of its walls and ceilings with portraits of Krishna, Ganesh and other gods engaged in leisure pursuits, with elephants appearing regularly, as well as - in one incongruous example - a rubber-looking chicken (sadly, not pictured).



standing on the many cupola covered balconies, you quite literally look down on the town - a vertigo inducing experience, but one where you felt that films should be set or romantic scenes shot.



as has been very common, large beehives were again in evidence, hanging down from the stone eaves, while below we strained to make out the source of the evenings regular bat exodus.

beehives

the day had begun with the sky hazy and almost yellow with dust, but now it was much clearer. you could see right down into the streets below and make out a procession of scooters and motorbikes following a rickshaw that was touring the thoroughfares, announcements about the bombings in Jaipur streaming from a large, roof-mounted loudspeaker. directly underneath us, we could make out someone gently rocking on our swing at the elephant stables. it was an evocative and striking place to be.



the palace impresses and sinks in as a whole, unlike other palaces we've been lucky enough to visit that have had key or stand-out rooms. the peace and quiet we were afforded as the only visitors was a real treat and one we figured unlikely to be repeated, so we made sure that we enjoyed every minute. there was even time to 'visit' a room with stunning views and an ancient squat toilet!

as we were all leaving after a very relaxed and leisurely tour of the open parts of the palace, we could not but feel that there must be so many other secrets that its extensive, closed-to-the-public areas could reveal. we were almost at the Hathi Pol gate when a staff member we had brushed off when we'd entered again tried to persuade us to go with him to an 'off limits' area. this usually means a little extra payment, but he was visibly bored and keen to do something else, while it sounded intriguing, so we said that we'd tag along. ascending some steps to the side of the main entrance courtyard into an ante-chamber outside an arched entrance, the staff member-cum-guide explained that we had to go through a chamber of bats to get to the other areas.

we had seen large number of bats throughout the palace, accompanied by the strong, unmistakeable ammonia smell that their guano gives off, but they had been in small or disparate groups. we now know that the path we needed to take passed directly through the source of the bat deluge we saw every evening. the guide all but disappeared in the dark before light spilled out from an open doorway somewhere beyond. the ghostly grey shapes of bats swooped above his head in some numbers, irritated by this alien presence in their midst. the noise of their combined, individual high pitched squeaks en masse was extremely loud - they sounded annoyed. Enrico was evidently a little scared of bats from his reactions during the day, but after Edd set off to follow the guide with a literal and metaphorical deep breath, Philippa grabbed Enrico's hand and led him through the chamber, up the steps and through another room to relative safety.

we kept a low profile as we stooped through the stygian gloom but, even though we were wearing hats, bats frequently strafed close to our eye line. the sound was almost deafening, but the most significant issue to deal with was underfoot. the floor was never touched, carpeted as it was by an unquantifiably deep layer of bat guano. although the sensation was like walking on sponges, our emotional reaction was something else entirely, especially as - unlike Enrico, who was wearing trainers - we were in our usual sandals.

through the chamber and into the light, we emerged into a large courtyard, the chief aspect of which was a massively tall carved stone swing for the maharaja and his missus.

strong, sullen, pink-faced monkeys observed our interest with evident displeasure. the guide thwacked a large, robust stick brought for the purpose to keep them at a distance - these were the more aggressive type that we had encountered before in Agra. the areas we explored were not entry-paying tourist safe, with weakened joists and holes in the floors to the storeys below, but our guide was understandably super careful. our bat endurance test was rewarded with a surprising number of rooms of paintings and murals of either good or very good condition, among the best that we had seen.

one room revealed its walls on two sides to be comprised entirely of lattice work jali, or carved stone screens.

we surmised that this was the zenana, or women's quarters, which the guide confirmed with a pleased and affirmative nod, although the division of women in this manner in palaces is a standard theme in Rajasthani palaces.

we seemed to spend almost as long in the 'closed' areas as we did in the official parts of the palace before finally being led through the squalling noise of the bat chamber again, this time in pitch black darkness, as the light source was now behind us. with a quick check or other tourists - or superiors! - our 'guide' accepted our unofficial tour payment and we walked immediately to the palace's shop (seemingly unaffected by the town's curfew) for some simply vital cold drinks, all too aware of the speckled black appearance of our feet and shoes. we talked with Enrico a little about our various plans before leaving the palace to give out feet a thorough and desperately needed scrub under our guest house's shower.

scrubbed clean and ready to go again.

the previous day's frustrations had left us without our next journey's plans so we set off for the railway station, after a pause and more fun and games with Raj's adorable three year old daughter. on the way, we managed to find an internet cafe that was closed - but open for our business, provided the members of the Indian army sitting bored around the town in listless groups didn't find out. we'd used them before; the operation is run by Fatima, a (we think) Muslim woman who wears a plain sort of wimple-like outfit, in common with several women in the town. her youngest son spoke English and dealt with all of the formalities, including - as ever - several layers of bureaucracy. why a passport number is required for using the internet we'll never understand, so we made them up. with still no luck finding out about trains online, we left with Fatima urging us to 'be careful' because of the curfew. clearly, it was serious stuff.

all of the shops and businesses were indeed shuttered down as ordered, giving the place a strangely inert feel. people sat in doorways and seemed to be waiting for an all clear that would not come until tomorrow. several stalls in the market areas continued doing business in fruit and veg, so there was still some bustle in the old town. we hailed a rickshaw, the driver of which had limited English, and travelled the short but bumpy ride to the station. Edd had already hit his head twice in the palace and received a third, hard impact on the roof bars of the rickshaw as it scaled another ridge in the road. India does not seem to be built for someone his size and he almost always has to duck down in rickshaws at the best of times. his head was still smarting when we got to the station and found ourselves having to explain again to the driver that we wanted him to wait, especially as they weren't any other rickshaws around, or indeed any other vehicles.

the reservations desk was open and mercifully not too busy. our rickshaw driver followed us in and stood about two inches from us until we had finished, partly out of curiosity to see what we were doing, partly to see if he could deduce how much money we had. the reservations clerk had good English, but the best that he could do for us was to get us waiting list tickets for a Kota-Ahmedabad train, effectively only a 50/50 chance for a journey and dependent on others cancelling. we weren't far down the list, but it was a once a week train; we had to pay and hope for some luck. the tickets (refundable, of course, if you don't get lucky) were the priciest of our trip so far, but they were for the longest journey.

we motored out of the station for all of 20 yards before the driver turned off the engine and, with a piece of paper and a pen, decided to demand R400 to take us back, even though we'd agreed a mere R50 for what he had thought was one way. we said fine, got out and started walking. a protracted debate eventually led to us getting a less than R100 return, the thought of some money over-riding the possibility of none in the driver's eyes. on the way back, a large pothole and a severe rickshaw jump drove Edd's head into the overhead bar with an almighty thunk - for several minutes, he was in not inconsiderable pain, which continued on and off until the end of the next day. we had only 50/50 tickets and Edd's head had a large bump embossed on its top - not a very successful afternoon's work.

Bundi Palace, Taragarh Fort - and the steep slope, of course. why is there always a steep slope?

Bundi in the haze.

in an attempt to try and recapture the glowing and exploratory spirit of the morning, we rested for a few hours before finishing off the palace and Taragarh Fort in the cooler, pre-dusk hours. Raj gave us a large staff clearly saved for the purpose to ward off monkeys. instead of turning off the steep paved path to the palace, we continued up to the Chittra Sala, a pretty garden courtyard centred on four stone thrones around a water feature, lined on one side by a series of rooms and chambers filled with yet more fine murals, slotted in beneath the steepling palace buildings above.

here, the majority of the murals were in turquoise or black and white, but they were no less striking than the morning's examples.



the keeper of the gardens - notably armed with his own monkey stick - showed us around, eager for a tip that his enthusiasm well deserved, even if the rooms levy no official entry charge. some rooms he had to show us by candle light, which made the murals appear impossibly exotic. he said that, for an extra tip, we could use our cameras with flash if we so wanted, but we didn't want to assist the deterioration of any of the paintings.

so there.

surprised at the discovery of yet more wonderful murals, we were in a much happier mood as we climbed still further up the rocky paved road.

before long it disintegrated into broken fragments around a grassy route. following it up, we puffed up a small, ruined palace outbuilding with spectacular views of the palace and town that matched the tourist office's photos exactly. we sat on the building's balcony way up above the streets below and drank in the fabulous views, a late afternoon haze adding an air of mystery to the surrounding hills. after so much tension in the last few days, it was a wonderful release.

(this is Edd's favourite picture of our trip - you can click on all images on the blog to bring up a full size version)

mindful of the monkey menace as yet unseen and approaching dusk, we headed up the now reassembled path to the Taragarh (or 'Star Fort') at the very top. we knew that it was now a ruin but wanted to give it a tour. above the fort and to one side, a massive communications tower peers down over everything else, a tall antenna thoughtfully placed in the middle of Bundi's best view, short-termism writ large.

we passed only one person on this last leg and had met only one small group before. as at the palace, we had it all to ourselves. or, more accurately, the monkeys did and we were allowed brief visiting rights. they began to appear finally when we reached 'their' fort and did a little bit of exploring, taking in the view again, now looking straight down on even the palace.


most of the monkeys kept themselves to themselves, but those who wished to make a point shouldered closer. one gave us what can only be described as a filthy, desultory look when Edd banged the monkey stick close by. as we left, a male lizard was displaying his bright orange flanks to a disinterested female, Planet Earth style. it was still lovely and quiet, but we had drunk our fill; dusk was falling and it was time to leave.

the monkeys certainly thought so, in no uncertain terms following us to the broken wooden gates of the fort, lined with elephant spikes, and then subsequently at no great distance all the way back down the rocky path. by the time that we reached the Chittra Sala again, we were banging the stick pretty much constantly as we were herded our by families of monkeys reclaiming their palace for the evening. you're not going to be overpowered by one monkey, but neither of us wanted a bite from many!

we'd timed our trip well and got back to the elephant stables as the monkeys got into their evening routine. we also got back just before Raj brought out our thalis for dinner, as beautifully cooked by his wife Neema. Enrico briefly appeared to our pleasant surprise in order to see the bats fly out above us in our thousands and invited us out with him tomorrow on a trip he'd organised with a local driver, which was really generous of him and meant we'd all pay less to see more. the fact that Raj's younger brother, Jai, then subsequently appeared and, discovering our 'betrayal,' left in a huff after firing a volley to his brother that was clearly about us merely added to our satisfaction. we only saw him in the street two more times before we left Bundi. we found it hard to believe that Raj, a hard working, devoted family man who was doing his utmost to make a living for himself could have such an unprofessional, lazy and slack brother.

the evening meal was delicious and filled our bellies with kedgeree, dal, vegetables and chapati. Raj ate with us, and Edd even had a beer. so did Raj, who consequently became far more loquacious than we had ever seen him! it turned out that he was an ex-policeman. arresting two men on a bus near Ajmer who he'd trailed and found concealing a large amount of heroin and a handgun or two in a box, he'd called in his back up and refused the customary, expected bribe attempt. his colleagues and superior didn't and let the suspects go, despite Raj's protestations. he then told them what they could do with their job and left for home, where he was followed by his colleagues, arrested and jailed for two nights, essentially for not taking a bribe. no wonder he changed careers and was trying to run such a simple, honest place. he deserves all of the success that his venture should achieve.

as days go, it had been a very full one that we'll not forget in a hurry. as the now rather familiar noise - and smell - of bats swooping overhead soundtracked our good nights to Raj, sleep was easy. we still could not be sure of the next few days' travel and had been stymied at every turn in that regard, but we'd had a day of rich sights and real experiences that to remind us of the sort of reasons why we came to India in the first place.

take care everyone, stay in touch!

edd & philippa