Travelling Around Britain and the World

Saturday 3 February 2018

Ranakpur: Rajasthan Part 9

India
Rajasthan
This post covers day 11 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.

We drive from Narlai to Ranakpur and then to Udaipur, the southernmost point of our journey

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.

-o0o0o-

Rajasthan's Finest Jain Temple

Narlai to Ranakpur

Breakfast at Narlai was a little better than the dinner; my sambar and idlis were good, but Lynne’s French toast was sweet to the point of inedibility - saffron rice and scrambled egg proved a better choice.

Narlai is 50km from Ranakpur, where the huge Jain temple does not open to non-Jains until midday, so a leisurely start was in order. By 10.29 we were sitting outside the fort waiting for Umed who arrived at 10.30, precisely on time as always.

10.29 outside Rawla Narlai
The journey continued through flat, dry land, studded with rocks, though none as impressive Narlai’s.

Another rock south of Narlai
There is always something to see on a drive through India…

Goats and goatherd on the road to Ranakpur
…and as the countryside became greener and hillier we encountered an apparent sit-down strike by the local monkeys, though their solidarity evaporated as we approached.

Grey langurs on the road to Ranakpur
Ranakpur Jain Temple

 Around midday we reached the Aravalli Hills, which curl for 700km around the southern limit of the Thar desert. The Ranakpur site, nestling in the edge of hills, contains five Jain temples but ‘The’ Ranakpur Jain temple, the biggest and finest and the one everyone comes to see is the Chaturmukha Dharanavihara.

Construction began in 1437 after Dharna Shah, a wealthy and devout local Jain, was inspired by a dream. He gained sponsorship from Rana Khumba, ruler of Mewar (the Kingdom of Mewar had its capital at Udaipur and is very easily confused with the adjacent Kingdom of Marwar, ruled from Jodhpur) and engaged an architect named in an inscription as Deepaka.

Just a part of the RanakpurJain temple
 The white marble building took over fifty years to complete. It has suffered ups and downs over the last 500 years but for the past century it has been managed by the Anandji Kalyanji Pedhi trust, a charity that safeguards over 1,000 Jain Temples. They funded its restoration and continue to maintain the buildings in excellent condition.

Inspecting the impressively comprehensive ‘Do Not’ notice filled in the time while Umed queued for our tickets and ‘compulsory audio guide’ (4). Mostly the rules are reasonable; 11 could cause upset but is (I suspect, though without evidence) routinely ignored as is 8b (I have evidence for this – my trousers did not fall down). 8d contradicts 5.

Indians love a list of regulations (and then ignore those they don't like)
Jains make up 0.36% of the Indian population, a small proportion but that still means almost 5 million people. Rajasthan is home to 650,000 Jains - 1% of the population and the second highest proportion after Maharashtra. Jains are generally better educated and wealthier than their fellow citizens, the literacy rate among Jains being 95% compared to the national average of 74%.

We made our way to the entrance…

Entrance, Ranakour Jain temple
…where Akichaka, a bearded man with five bodies representing the five elements - fire, water, heaven, earth and air, is carved on the ceiling.

Akichaka, Ranakpur Jain temple
The interior is filled with pillars and spaces.

Inside the Ranakpur Jain temple
Beneath the central dome is a platform surrounded by intricate carvings. As I discovered, any non-Jain venturing onto the platform will be told, politely but firmly, by the orange-scarfed guardians that this sacred area is not for them.

Platform beneath the central dome, Ranakpur Jain temple
Around the perimeter are a wealth of carvings and statues, some I could not interpret….

Somebody on an elephant, Ranakpur Jain temple
…while others are of Tirthankaras. The object of a well-lived Jain life is to cross over the endless stream of lives and rebirths and so achieve moksha (like the Buddhist nirvana). The Tirthankaras are guides in this endeavour which is achieved by practising non-violence, honesty, chastity and non-attachment to material possessions. Time moves like the wheel of a cart, so any point on the circumference has an ascending half-cycle and a descending half-cycle. 24 Tirthankaras are born in each half cycle; Adinatha, the first of the current half-cycle was born 1 million years ago, the last, Mahavira lived in the 5th or 6th century BC. The Tirthankaras are deeply respected but not worshipped, though the temple is dedicated to Adinatha. I would not like to guess exactly who is depicted in the images below.

Tithankaras, Ranakpur Jain temple
If the central dome is off-limits there are plenty more you can point your camera at…

Dome, Ranakpur Jain temple
….while other carvings depict Parshvanatha, the 23rd Tirthankara surrounded by the heads of 1008 snakes - and innumerable tails….

Parshvanatha, the 23rd Tirthankara surrounded by the heads of 1008 snakes - and innumerable tails, Ranakpur Jain temple
….Jambudvipa, the realm of terrestrial life,…

Jambudvipa, the realm of terrestrial life, Ranakpur Jain temple
… and the 863 Jain temples on Mount Shatrunjaya in Gujarat [We climbed the 3750 step to the top of Shatrunjaya Hill in March 2019. Click here for that post.]

The 863 Jain temples on Mount Shatrunjaya, Ranakpur Jain temple
While wandering we were approached by a young man in an orange scarf who offered to pray for us and our families. Given the events at home alluded to in the Jaisalmer post, Lynne readily agreed. I suspect prayers can only be of comfort to those present, but no doubt Jain prayers are as good as anyone else’s, and can do no harm, so I went along with it. We retreated to an empty corner, where, with quiet solemnity, he said some words in English and (I assume) Hindi and gave us a blessing. I gave him some rupees, which he seemed to expect after reminding us he was a volunteer and received no payments for attendance at the temple.

The Road to Udaipur

We spent over an hour at the temple before returning to the road and driving deeper into the Aravalli Hills.

Driving through the Aravalli Hills
Restaurants seem to be springing up alongside the road as visitor numbers grow at Ranakpur. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant in a wide valley with small farms studding the hillsides. We sat on a breezy terrace sharing a curry of paneer and peas as tractors dragging loads of heavy stones trundled past, each one playing loud, cheery music.

Back in the car we passed through the small town of Sayra.


Sayra - small town Rajasthan
A little further on Umed spotted a pair of oxen plodding round in circles and brought the car to a stop.
Oxen plod round in circles, near Sayra
The couple in charge seemed used to receiving curious visitors and greeted us cheerfully. The oxen turned a wheel over which a chain of buckets delivered water from a well. The irrigation system might be antiquated, but the rich green of the surrounding fields proved it was effective.
Wheek and buckets, irrigation system near Sayra
The well was deep, the chain of buckets long and the steps descending inside the well looked scary.


Looking down into the well, near Sayra
The route so far had been slow but the last 50km into Udaipur should have been on Highway 27, a large modern dual carriageway. Before reaching the junction we encountered a ‘road closed’ sign and a diversion. Umed swung off onto a tiny local road, ‘the real India,’ as he said ruefully.

It was a long journey through small villages…

Small Village on the way to Udaipur
….with small, unsophisticated temples.

Village temple on the way to Udaipur
We reached Udaipur when the rush hour was at its peak.

Arriving in Udaipur

Udaipur may be a city of half a million people, but the centre is a warren of narrow lanes like those you might expect in a village – only much more extensive. Umed was navigating by means of his phone, but it could not cope with the small streets and frequent irregular junctions. Udaipur is known as the City of Lakes, and with good reason; a missed turning can lead you to a narrow one-way bridge and once across the lake a return bridge may be some way distant – and not necessarily over the same stretch of water. Umed made a couple of circuits of the centre (we noticed) and asked a few locals whose well-meaning assistance was not always helpful. He was becoming increasingly tense, his professional pride hurt by his inability to work out the labyrinthine streets. Eventually we turned off a lane into the sort of alley no one would expect to lead to a four-star hotel, and after a hundred metres, there it was.


Perhaps you would expect to find a posh hotel down here - I don't think I would

We checked in and said goodbye to Umed for the day and advised him to rest.

Our room had a balcony over Lake Pichola…

Our balconey overlooking Lake Pichola
…with views across the lake to the Maharaja’s Palace.

The view from our balconey across Lake Pichola
On being asked at check-in if we wished to book a table on the roof terrace, we had hesitated, unsure of other local dining options. ‘It’s the last table,’ we were warned. That settled it, who would not choose to dine beneath stars.

A blurry night-time photograph pf the hotel's roof tertace

We discovered that the whole restaurant was on the roof, the ‘roof terrace’ being just three elevated tables, but they did have the most splendid view over the dark lake and the floodlit buildings beyond. The Dunghaar Maas (smoked lamb) and Aloo Gobi Adraki (potato, cauliflower and ginger) were very good and left just enough space for a Gulab Jamun, my favourite Indian sweet.

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Location: Udaipur, Rajasthan, India

Friday 2 February 2018

Narlai: Rajasthan Part 8

India
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.

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.

-o0o0o-

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…

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.

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.

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...

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….
Elephant Hill, Narlai
….and photographing the pigeons…

Pigeons, Narlai
….and occasional parakeets who were happy to join us in our eyrie.

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….

Lynne and our local guide, Narlai
…our guide led us to the foot of Elephant Hill.

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!)

Up the steps inside Elephant Hill
At the top two small Nandis (Nandi is the vehicle of Shiva) face…

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.

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.

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).

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.
Effortless elegance, Narlai
We paused to admire the new temple built up the side of the rock.

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…

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….

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.

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.

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.

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…

Family compound, Narlai
…we were greeted by grandma with two young children and a baby asleep on a bed.

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.

The newest addition to the family, Narlai
Further down the street hairy pigs snuffled in the gutters…

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.

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.

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…
Shri Adinath Jain temple, Narlai
…so we dropped into another one down the road.

A smaller Jain temple, Narlai
It was small, but the Pietra Dura work was impressive…

Jain temple, Narlai
….particularly on the ceiling.

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.

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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