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| India |
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| Rajasthan |
This post covers day 10 of a 16-day journey around Rajasthan.
The size of Germany, Rajasthan is the largest of India’s 29 states. With the Thar Desert covering the north and west it is one of India’s less densely populated states, though with 200 people per km² (the same as Italy) it is hardly empty.
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| After a short drive from Rohet we spend the day in and around Narlai |
In the 11th and 12th centuries the rise of the Rajputs created some 20 or so petty kingdoms ruled by Maharajas - the ‘Rajput Princes’. These kingdoms, at first independent, later vassal states of the Mughal or British Empires survived until 1947, when the Maharajahs led their ‘Princely States’ into the new Union of India, creating Rajasthan (the ‘Land of Princes’). The rulers became constitutional monarchs until 1971 when the Indian government ended their official privileges and abolished their titles. ‘Maharaja’ is now a courtesy title, but most remain leading members of their communities and some are still immensely rich. Several, like their British counterparts, have supplemented their income by turning forts and palaces into tourist attractions and hotels.
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A Small Town with a Large Rock
Rohet to Narlai
We could afford a leisurely start as Narlai is less than 100km from Rohet, a journey of 1½ hours.
We made our way through the backstreets of Rohet…
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| Leaving Rohet |
….and turned south towards Narlai. The landscape was largely flat, though the further south we went the more it hinted at hillier country beyond. As we left the Thar Desert behind the land, though still arid, became progressively greener. After 40 minutes we by-passed Pali, the district capital and an industrial town of some 250,000 people. Pali has several cotton mills and has diversified into artificial textiles as well as producing agricultural implements, chemicals and cement.
Several smaller settlements lined the route, in one traffic conditions necessitated a brief pause and presented a photo opportunity. Whoever thought that what their neighbourhood really needed was an outlet selling pottery, snacks and motorcycles tyres was an imaginative entrepreneur.
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| Pottery, snacks and motorcycle wheels - not the most natural combination |
Rawla Narlai
Reaching the small town of Narlai around 11, we made our way through the narrow streets to Rawla Narlai. Like Rohet Ghar last night it is a fort built by the local ruling family in the days when forts were no longer essentially defensive. It is now another Heritage Hotel and describes itself as the ‘best boutique hotel in Rajasthan’; it has its charms, but that is a big claim to live up to.
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| The backstreets of Narlai |
Our room was on the top (4th) floor of a small modern block at the far end of the compound. We watched with misgivings as the old man deputed to carry our cases staggered off over the garden. We really did not want to be responsible for his death.
Formalities completed we were conducted in his footsteps, past the restaurant and the pool, then between the flower beds and over the lawn. Initially pleased to see the block had a lift, we were disappointed that it stopped a floor short of our room – had staggering up the final staircase been the last straw?
We were pleased to see that he had made it. Our room was light and airy...
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| Our room, Rawla Narlai |
…the front opening onto a large balcony with as good a view as you could wish of Narlai’s pride and joy, and the reason tourists stop at this rather out-of-the-way small town. Elephant Hill is undoubtedly impressive and we spent the brief time before lunch sitting on the balcony looking at it….
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| Elephant Hill, Narlai |
….and photographing the pigeons…
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| Pigeons, Narlai |
….and occasional parakeets who were happy to join us in our eyrie.
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| Parakeet, Narlai. That's a scary look in his eye |
We lunched on the terrace outside the restaurant. After alternating lunches of pakoras and samosas we were delighted to see a more varied menu and chose pappads with a herb dip and Sabudana Vada (deep fried sago with ginger and coconut) with a curry leaf chutney. It read well, but was sadly rather dull.
While we were eating, a hotel employee in a huge red turban (probably a hat) approached and suggested he conduct us on a walking tour of the village. We agreed to meet him later.
A Tour of Narlai
Resembling an extra from Ali Baba and carrying a heavy staff, though Narlai hardly looked threatening….
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| Lynne and our local guide, Narlai |
…our guide led us to the foot of Elephant Hill.
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| At the foot of Elephant Hill, Narlai |
The hill appears to have taken a couple of whacks from the Cleaver of the Gods. Inside the lowest slice is a set of steps (mind your head!)
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| Up the steps inside Elephant Hill |
At the top two small Nandis (Nandi is the vehicle of Shiva) face…
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| Two small Nandis inside Elephant Hill, Narlai |
…what our guide described as a Shiva Temple, though ‘shrine’ would be a more appropriate word. There was little behind the locked door (including light) but a Shiva lingam can be seen back right.
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| Inside the Shiva Shrine, Elephant Hill, Narlai |
Lynne posed on the steps outside, and the guide promptly popped his turban on her head, thus proving it was really a hat. I am not sure it is a good look.
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| Lynne beside the Nandis outside the Shiva Shrine, Elephant Hill, Narlai |
Back at the bottom he pointed out the shallow gully in the hard rock created and polished by the many thousands of young backsides whose owners have used it as a slide over the last millennium (or longer).
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| Generations of children have polished this slide in the hard rock, Elephant Hill, Narlai |
Walking round the side of the hill four young women emerged from a side street in front of us. Lynne took a photograph from further back in which I appear to be herding them like an overweight sheepdog; I wasn’t, but I admit to admiring their effortless elegance.
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| Effortless elegance, Narlai |
We paused to admire the new temple built up the side of the rock.
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| The path up to a new temple on Elephant Hill, Narlai |
Behind us two women were enlisting the help of a man in cutting firewood from a thorny tree while bored looking cows and goats sat in the litter-strewn sand…
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| Livestock sitting in the litter-strewn sand, Narlai |
Passing through a gate into a stone enclosure topped with spikey branches we found sheep and goats searching for food in a mudbrick pen….
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| Sheep and goats finding something to eat, Narlai |
…while on the steps opposite two small boys were busy with their homework - studiously copying numbers and completing simple sums.
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| Serious number work, Narlai |
Their mother (presumably) sat in the shade by the sheep sifting – though sifting what was unclear – separating grain from sand, maybe.
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| Sifting something, Narlai |
Two older girls were busy on household chores, but one demanded to have her photograph taken and was delighted with the result.
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| A photo makes a good break from the chores, Narlai |
We left the compound tiptoeing past grandpa who lay stretched out on a bed covered with a sheet and grandma who was old, frail and apparently blind.
In the compound across the road…
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| Family compound, Narlai |
…we were greeted by grandma with two young children and a baby asleep on a bed.
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| Grandma and kids, Narlai |
In another corner an even younger baby slept in a crib watched over by mother (we assume) and an older sibling or cousin.
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| The newest addition to the family, Narlai |
Further down the street hairy pigs snuffled in the gutters…
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| Snuffling pigs, Narlai |
…while round the corner four senior ladies sat in the street extracting burrs, grit and twigs from piles of wool. The lady in front was smiley and chatty, keen to be photographed and to tell us about what she was doing, or perhaps about her family. She was totally unfazed by our lack of a common language.
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| Friendly wool workers, Narlai |
At the next house we visited the women were making necklaces, bracelets and tie-dye textiles. They had nothing we wanted and were asking extortionate prices, but it is all part of the deal and it is our responsibility to share a little of our western riches with the world’s poorest. We beat them down from extortionate to outrageous and became owners of several unwanted trinkets.
Local wealth was on show in the next street. Those who go to work in the city show they have been a success by building themselves a smart house in their home town. Like second homes in English villages they spend much of their time empty.
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| Nice new house, Narlai |
Narlai has a couple of mosques and enough Hindu temples for a town with five times its 6,000 population. It also has more than its share of Jain temples but the ancient Shri Adinath temple, notable for its near life-sized model elephants, is currently closed for extensive refurbishment…
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| Shri Adinath Jain temple, Narlai |
…so we dropped into another one down the road.
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| A smaller Jain temple, Narlai |
It was small, but the Pietra Dura work was impressive…
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| Jain temple, Narlai |
….particularly on the ceiling.
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| Pietra Dura ceiling, Jain temple, Narlai |
Statues in Jain temples usually represent the 24 tirthankaras, who have conquered the cycle of life and death and shown others the way. The figure in the centre of the trio below is a tirthankara, but as the most recent died in 527 BCE the bespectacled gents on either side must be later. The one on the right has more than a passing resemblance to BR Ambedkar, the father of the Indian constitution, who converted to Buddhism just before his death in 1956.
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| Tirthankara an other statues, Jain Temple, Narlai |
Having walked in a circle we were now back at Rawla Narlai where we said thank you to our genial guide who had taken us places we could not have gone alone.
Evening at Rawla Narlai
As night fell we sat on balcony with an aperitif listening to the call from the mosques and the bells of the Hindu temples. We also heard some of our fellow guests heading off for a special dinner at a nearby step well. We had been offered this dinner at £60 a head but had declined, partly on price but also because it involved dressing up in turbans and mock Indian dress before being taken through town in a bullock cart. I do not like dressing up at the best of times, but this just felt disrespectful.
Evening in Rajasthan in February can be cool, but it was warm enough to sit outside the restaurant. As usual we eschewed the buffet, which is always the set meal for coach parties and is guaranteed to be bland enough to offend nobody. From the à la carte we ordered safed murgh (chicken in a white cashew based sauce) with beans, tomatoes, millet bread and pappads. Safed Murgh is a mild curry - not every Indian dish has to burn the roof of your mouth off (though we like those, too) – but it should contain cumin, ginger, garlic, poppy seeds and a lot of pepper. In deference to the belief that all Europeans hate spicy food, every spice, not just the ‘hot’ ones, had been omitted, indeed it was so bland I think they had even left out the salt; I doubt anybody could have enjoyed this. It was, by far, the worst meal of our trip so far, indeed one of the worst we have eaten in India. I am glad we did not pay £60 a head for this.
Rajasthan, Land of Princes
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