The beauty and charm of Bundi

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It would take an exceptionally hard-hearted person to not be just a little bit charmed by Bundi. Its beauty lies not in the attractions it possess, indeed the only disappointing part of our time here was our visit to the palace, but rather in the quality of its heart, the purity of its soul. I apologise for my shameless hippy-speak and ridiculous anthropomorphism, but Bundi's charm is completely intangible and very hard to describe. It cannot be found in the exhibits in its museums, in the grandeur of its palace or the strength of its fort; you will not find it being served in one of its restaurants, in a haveli hotel, inside a Shiva temple, nor at the bottom of one of its numerous tanks. Your time will be wasted if you attempt to find it by asking a local, though you'd certainly be getting warmer; and neither would there have been any use, if you were to have met me wandering Bundi's streets, in asking me just where it might be found, for my answer would have been vague, rambling, and would probably have made no sense whatsoever. The best I can do now, as this confused excuse for an opening paragraph proves, is attempt to paraphrase Pooh: Bundi's beauty and charm aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.

It is a bit like the difficulty in giving a suitable summation, when being asked by a new friend to describe your girlfriend. The answer that most readily spills from my uncouth mouth would probably be something like; she has beautiful eyes, a cracking pair of tits and a linguists nimbility of tongue. Such a superficial description, although quite possibly true, most definitely fails in getting anywhere close to elucidating what makes her so special and as to why I'm so desperately in love. This answer is impossible to give; you know how she makes you feel but cannot explain to a third party exactly how she achieves this. This is essentially the difficulty I'm now having as I attempt to describe for you, my no doubt thoroughly confused readers, the essence of Bundi's charms. So I shall desist from any further attempt; the rest of this blog will concern itself only with the factual actuality of how our time here was spent. Hopefully by detailing a little of what we have done you will be able to gain some small understanding of what it is that makes this place so special.

Bundi is a relatively small town in the South East of Rajasthan. Originally the walls of the imposing fort would have demarcated the towns outer limits, but today Bundi has expanded way beyond those once impregnable walls and now occupies a large swathe of the valley floor. The most prominent and well preserved section of wall crests the ridge of a hill that looms large at the Northern end of town. Within the reassuring embrace of these walls, and itself a towering presence over the town, is Bundi's most recognisable structure, the palace. The saffron coloured behemoth can be seen from almost anywhere in Bundi's old town and is an obvious focus for most tourists' interest, ours included. Unfortunately, we found it to be a little disappointing. The views from the top over the brahmin-blue houses of Bundi and Nawal Sagar were stunning, but too much of the palace was closed "for renovation", and that which was open was poorly maintained and a little uninspiring. Perhaps we have ben spoilt by some other palaces we have seen but the price, the fact that the once free fort is now an additional charge, the carpets of bat guano in several of the rooms and the bored and unhelpful security guards' predilection for pissing in the corners of the palatial rooms, all added up to an interesting but ultimately disappointing visit.

So you're probably now wondering how such an experience could possibly help enamour me to Bundi, and enlighten you as to its indescribable charms. If I were you I'd be thinking the same; but I'm not. I was there and so I know different, it's just that I can't explain it! Anyway, as we left the palace the softly glowing warmth of the large desert sun was getting lower in the sky and we decided to take a walk around Nawal Sagar to enjoy the last light of day. Nawal Sagar is a manmade reservoir or tank which, visiting as we were just after the monsoon, was currently full of water. Its edges have many steps, called Ghats, that lead down and into the water to facilitate ritual bathing or, as is sadly more likely these days, the washing of clothes and emptying of bowels. There is a small temple that seemingly floats upon the still green water and on two of the four sides there are beautiful old havelis and palatial buildings. Swallows and kingfishers vie for aerial supremacy, whilst ducks, some kind of wading bird and turtles do battle for the waters surface. Carried upon the still, incense laden air can, be heard the mournfully lilting voice of a sarangi and the rhythmic tolling of temple bells. Adjacent to the Sagar is a dusty park and from here the excited exclamations from a game of cricket would occasionally punctuate the more restful sounds of the music. Behind this enchantingly Indian location can be seen the aforementioned palace and fort, which together form a spectacular backdrop to this picture perfect scene. We were lucky enough to be staying in a beautiful haveli directly abutting the tank and as the sun finally dropped below the horizon we finished our walk with a glass of masala chai in the guest house's garden, whilst watching a troop of langur monkeys squabble noisily in the trees above us.

We spent a great deal of our time in the garden of the lake view guest house, for three very good reasons. Firstly, the view was quite simply stunning; secondly, Tony the chef was absolutely first class, though terminally forgetful and very slow; and thirdly, because I had begun to suspect that Bundi's charms could well be found here, so long as I sat back and pretended I wasn't looking for them. Removing ourselves from this sleepy garden, nestled quietly in a leafy corner of this gloriously soporific town, took a strength of will that singularly we did not posses, but when our meagre determinations were yoked together like a pair of white oxen, we managed to haul the heavy cart of our inspiration out of the garden and onto the road of adventure. This metaphor is way to heavy so it will be swapped for a lighter and more manageable one; we now find our two lazy protagonists unharnessed from the cart and instead placed upon the saddles of a pair of iron horses; two trusty rusty steeds that were to carry our heroes several kilometres out of town to visit another lake, that of Jait Sagar.

On the bank of one corner of Jait Sagar stands the gorgeous Sukh Mahal, a small palace where Rudyard Kipling stayed when he was writing his novel "Kim". The building itself is elegant and simple and is embraced on either side by Ghats, and from above by some mighty banyan trees. But it was the view of the lake and the surrounding hills that its location affords that had me completely enraptured. Dotting the mottled green and brown hills were several white cenotaphs, and spaced out along the opposite bank were a smattering of simple temples. Upon the lakes surface were a neatly tessellating mosaic of green lily pads, dotted here and there with their iconic pink blooms. The only sounds were from the birds in the trees and from wet sari upon stone ghat, as brightly coloured laundry took a vicious , rhythmic beating in the name of cleanliness. A couple of kilometres hard riding north and we finally found that for which we had long been searching. No, not Bundi's elusive charm, but a roadside chai stall. We joined several of the other patrons in sipping our chai in the shade of a large tree, before filling up on water and setting off on a longish climb to reach the hill temple we could see from the tea stall.

We purchased some flowers to give as an offering and then commenced the climb. A few steps up and Anny was mugged of the flowers by an aggressive macaque, presumably to be used by our simian friend as an offering to Hanuman. These stocky monkeys were everywhere; in the trees, on the steps, around the temple and on the ground. They were openly aggressive and very quick to bare their teeth and lunge forward, the huge males that stood nearly two foot tall were particularly scary. We made it to the temple unscathed but minus half our prasad, the priest seemed not to mind though and made a little puja for us anyway. Making an offering at the temple was our secondary reason for undertaking the climb on such a hot day, the principle one being the views that I anticipated from the bottom. We were not disappointed. To our left we could see the sparkling entirety of jait Sagar, and to our right was an unknown brown lake. Between the two could be seen dotted various cenotaphs, temples and palaces that gave an otherwise timeless landscape a little historical perspective. One of these buildings, the Sar Bagh, was to be our days final destination.

My guess is that many people would be a little disappointed with Sar Bagh. It was the only place we visited outside of Bundi that we had to pay to enter and was probably the most neglected. The sights, about fifteen circular cenotaphs with pillars, pagoda roofs and some fine carvings, were all much the same and, in a way, once you've seen one you've seen them all. They were arranged in a walled compound that was overgrown with weeds and tall grasses and which had several trees whose branches were entwining themselves with the buildings. The place felt forgotten and unloved; an Indian secret garden. We, however, absolutely loved the place. The early evening light which filtered obliquely through the broad leafed trees perfectly illuminated the beautiful carvings, picking them out in a warm orange glow from the deep shadows behind. Small birds could be heard singing beautiful ragas in the trees and occasionally seen when they flitted into a beam of sun from the shadows. Dragonflies buzzed back and forth in the limpid air and lizard scurried across the marble floors of the cenotaphs. Except for a friendly chap who with his huge curved scythe was attempting to clear some of the tall grass, we had the place entirely to ourselves. There was absolutely nothing to do, and all evening in which to accomplish it.

I normally try to keep any thinking to an absolute bare minimum. I'm not a yogic master who has attained complete dominion over his mind, but rather a nervous realist who wishes to minimise the stress he puts upon his old and temperamental organ of cognition. Sat on the smooth marble in the cool shade of one of Sar Bagh's cenotaphs, watching flies turning circles in the electric light of evening and thinking of nothing but my contentment, I was gently nudged by a subtle realisation. I became vaguely aware that by sitting here in this neglected corner of India, visiting the centre of a moment, desiring only what I possessed and seeking nothing that didn't want to be found, I had come closer than ever before in grasping the intangible nature of Bundi's, and by extrapolation India's, beauty and charm. Even then, mid epiphany, I could not have explained to you how I felt and, as you have no doubt long ago realised, still cannot now. I will finish by badly paraphrasing another author, this time Douglas Adams. He said that to learn how to fly was easy, all one had to do was throw oneself at the ground and miss. In the same way, finding India's beauty is simple, all you have to do is travel all the way here and then forget what you're looking for.

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Comments

[Keep Smiling]

A walking Thesaurus
...anthropomorphism, behemoth, tessellating: your organ of cognition continues to work overtime! Another fascinating blog.

[FAN CHING NAM]

I've never been to India before and thanks so much for sharing your experience of visiting Bundi which is exactly the kind of tranquil and peaceful small town I'm fascinated.

[Juan Carlos]

Loved it
I have enjoyed very much the description of Bundi... don't worry, I understand you. I have never been there but I am already in love with that place thanks to your pictures. Thanks for sharing!

[Scott and Kristy]

good Scott
Im likeing that you are including some shots of you guys :)