Yesterday, Datar dodged the usual elephant-sized potholes, an increasing number of camel-pulled carts and way too many buses stuffed with a ridiculous number of people inside, and even more sitting and hanging from the roof.
Once again, a distance of around 250 kilometers took around six hours. But then. We slipped through a portal in time and arrived at the Castle Mandawa Hotel.
You know how sometimes you snag a thread on a piece of silk and the fabric bunches up? This is what I think of when I think of India. Einstein believed that time travel was possible. Maybe he’d been here?
How else do you explain a water-buffalo pulling a wooden-wheeled cart that looks like something from the Middle ages, being driven forward by an old man wearing his dhoti and sitting lotus position while prodding the beast onward…all while talking on his cellphone?
It is like the man and his animal were pulled on a single blue thread from a long ago past to find themselves flung into this futuristic present.
But it’s not just old versus new that is bunched up on that rippling cloth. It is the mundane versus the magical…arriving at this haveli (palace) from the littered streets and falling into a magical kingdom lit with fairytale lanterns, marble carved into delicate window grills and servers wearing red turbans while polishing brass tureens of rice.
The Aladdin-style windows reveal ceilings and walls frescoed with tapestry paintings of Maharajahs, flowers and Persian geometric designs in crimson, buttery-yellow, turquoise and turmeric.
Everywhere you look is glowing wall niches, Bohemian crystal chandeliers and gilded chairs. This is, after all, a former palace of a Maharajah. It is so lushly opulent yet completelywelcoming and comfortable.
Last night we lounged on the rooftop under a full fat moon, caressed by soft breezes and listening to the call to prayer from the mosque. The skies were indigo. Our drinks were cold.
This too, is India; a place where the sacred and the profane share the same space, where rich jewel tones are worn by the poorest woman in the dusty fields and plain white tunics are sported by the wealthiest of men.
We feel immensely blessed to have stumbled into this fairy-tale realm that is a curious blend of the past and the present; in a time that is as full and round as the moon.
Snakes are certainly not my forte either, but I was 21 with a group of guys and one other girl. It was an off shore trip while the ship was docked for the day. I closed my eyes while they took the picture and I can still remember the weight and the slithery feel of it … nothing else from that day. Your observations of India were fantastic and I loved the video clips of the wind in Wales … very entertaining!
My response never seems to work when I try to post on this site. I love reading your blogs and it’s the first time I’ve ever bothered to read any. It started in Wales with wild tales and now I’m addicted. Your concept of India is so radically different from what I recall of one day in Ceylon with a python around my neck and one day in Bombay in a horse drawn basket with a driver who didn’t understand English. Looking forward to your next adventure.
Well hey Martha…looks like this response worked…I’m so glad it did.
I’m quite certain that if anyone ever draped a python around my neck, I would drop dead on the spot. Snakes are not my forte 🙂
Now that I have to feed your addiction, I’m feeling the pressure to come through with something wildly exciting for each post. I’ll have to start making stuff up on the boring days!
Beautifully written, it transcends the imagination with wonder and beauty! Thanks for sharing your experience in India!
Thanks for stopping by Laurie. I appreciate your kind comments. India is definitely incredible on every level 🙂
What a beautiful analogy. There’s a poem or a collage in there.
Hey Laurie…I have been thinking about you and voila…here you are. I hadn’t thought of the collage idea but I think you’re right. There is definitely an India collage waiting to happen. Meet me in the art studio?