A sojourn to Rishikesh- pahadi wedding

What puts pahadi weddings in the outstanding category is not the rituals, but the beauty of the terrain. Here, blood-relations do not determine RSVPs. So, pretty unsurprisingly, I did not …

What everybody fails to notice in Jaipur

Dynasty of Sawais were alchemists more than playwrights!

Awestruck! As I slackened in awe of the quaint shops at Tripolia bazaar. Pink and red sandstone embossed the archaic walls while an acrid stench beckoned me over. Making my way through the hullabaloo, I got cold feet as I spectated a giant camel carcass, adding to the furore of the chaotic bazaar. The welcome was not exactly warm, rather sultry, the July heat stealing Jaipur of its salubrity. Not much had changed, I suppose. Pawn shops, hathi ghode ke thekedaar (dealers of horses and elephants for traditional weddings) and ganna ras (sugarcane juice) corners painted in parrot green. All looked well. I was desperate to sustain my profound observation of the city, but as the old aphorism preaches, “All that glitters is not gold.”

The Rajasthani architecture of Hawa Mahal with fine latticework sneered at plebeian labourers, forsaking their central role in maintaining the profligacy. A century ago I reckon, their ancestors worked as maidens to the Kesaria (bridegroom). Today they work like shadows, burnishing sandstone walls and cleaning clogged gutters, going to their matchbox houses in Bapu Bazaar after a hard day’s work. Houses, Maharaja Jai Singh II leased out to them at 10 rupaye a month ( Rupees 10 a month), perhaps. To every labyrinth I ventured, the juxtaposition between these grandiloquent masterpieces and a dying culture was way too apparent. Although diesel dyed Kohlapuri chappals and intricately worked Meenakari jewellery, along with medieval tapestries boasting of camel motifs made up for a substantial argument, Kalaiwalas, craftsmen who used to make a living by shining brassware and copperware (Polish wearing off, The Hindu) and the vulnerable art of Koftkari , damascening steel weaponry with inlay of gold and silver, for which Jaipur is well known ( Treasures of the Albert Hall Museum, Mapin) looked not very promising.

As a fifty something man sat desolately outside Hawa Mahal, with his fifty something bellows stoking up the fire, a tempestuous fervour took over me as I watched carefully. Overwhelmed by emphatic sympathy for him, I offered him 100 rupayee (100 rupees). The man immediately took umbrage and in a cranky voice said, “Kala ko muft mein nahi khareeda jaata memsahab” (Art cannot be bought for free madam). It took me a while to interpret what the man had exactly implied since I was just trying to help him. However, hours of distressing contemplation later, I knew exactly what he meant, and it filled my heart with utmost respect.