Alwar, Kesroli and an unexpected hailstorm

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The guidebook devotes two pages to Alwar and its sights. It commends, in particular, the City Palace and its museum, so it was with high hopes that we set off this morning, but the trip did not go quite as planned. Problem one: our driver had never been to Alwar before so had no idea which way to go. We showed him the map in the guidebook, from which we deduced we should go straight across the first roundabout. He said the map did not help, and turned right at the roundabout. We took a leisurely drive round what passes for a ring road before eventually entering Alwar on the opposite side of town some half hour later. Nobody he asked seemed entirely sure where the palace was “local people not helping”, but eventually we got there. The reason for the difficulty in finding it became clear. Alwar has been occupied for over a thousand years and in 1771 passed into the hands of a minor branch of the Kachhawaha clan of Jaipur. This was when the palace was built. However it is no longer a palace but the headquarters for the police and the district collector, and also home to the local courtrooms. We passed through a large outer courtyard packed with small tables, motorbikes and people and eventually found the entrance to the palace. Its facade shows how beautiful it once was, but in a spirit of practicality over heritage, the entire inside has been turned into offices. Creaking dingy offices abound with stacks of papers and bored looking clerks. There was no sign of a museum. We went into a number of empty rooms leading off the courtyard, all in vain. In one, Sara opened an inner door only to unleash the worst, most putrid smell we have encountered, worse even than bat shit. We fled. Finally we spotted a very small sign ‘To museum’, and followed it up several flights of stairs until we emerged onto a flat rooftop where a man was mending a chair, watched by two others. ‘Museum closed Mondays’ he told us, even though the guidebook says it is closed Friday. This is India. No amount of persuasion, or offer of financial inducement, would change his mind. We would not see the allegedly exquisite treasures of the museum.

We descended the stairs gloomily, and were about to leave when a passer-by indicated we should take a different set of stairs. These took us to the Moosi Maharani Chhatri which is dedicated to Maharaja Bhaktawar Singh and his queen, Maharani Moosi. The upper level is made up of white marble and the base is made up of red sandstone, and it has a splendidly decorated domed roof. It was built in 1815 the Maharaja's son. The cenotaph is also known as the Chhatri of Moosi Rani, one of his mistresses, who performed sati (self-immolation) on his funeral pyre.

Next to it was the large tank that must have fed the palace, surrounded by steps and chattris. We could see up to the Bala Qila, the old and extensive fortress 1000 feet up and spreading across the overlooking hills. The guidebook had warned us that this is now also occupied by the police and you need written permission to visit. A step too far.

As we came back out into the outer courtyard, we realised that the tables were all occupied by lawyers, and the great mass of people sitting around were waiting – possibly for days or even longer – for their cases to be heard in court. Earlier in the holiday we’d been told Indian law cases could take decades to resolve, so no wonder some of the people looked rather bored. The lawyers could be identified (we think) by the fact that they were wearing suits, many badly fitting and incongruously paired with trainers. Some had plain black jackets and striped trousers, and we concluded these were the barristers or possibly judges.

Further consultation of the guide book suggested we should visit the tomb of Fateh Jang, who was a minister of Emperor Shah Jehan, and built in 1647. Absolutely nobody knew where this was, but the book said it was near the railway station so we headed for that. Finally, after endless consultation, Pramod proudly drew up in front of the tomb. It appeared that once more we were out of luck, as the compound that the book said was occupied by a girls’ school was now a building site. However, a fellow approached us and beckoned us in, unlocking the door for us. The building itself was quite impressive but the locked door concealed nothing more than a fairly unadorned chamber containing a large green sheet with some offerings on it. You cannot always believe the guidebook!



Back to the hotel, where we were grateful to relax and cool down with a cup of tea. Sara suggested a walk in the village, so we set off only for an inordinately heavy thunderstorm to start just as we reached the main entrance to the hotel. We were forced to retreat back to our room and watched amazed as hailstones the size of broad beans crashed to the ground outside. Eventually the storm abated and we were able to go out, picking our way gingerly through the mix of mud and cowpats on the road. As ever, the local children were keen to have their photo taken, and to talk to us. Conversation is generally limited. ‘Hello, what is your name?’ ‘David’. Silence then ensues as they have not learned any other English conversation. The mud got thicker and thicker. Time to retreat as the mosquitoes are about to come out too.



More pictures below.

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Comments

[Keep Smiling]

Always something to see, eh?
I don't know who planned your itinerary but you seem to have crammed a lot into your time and enjoyed almost every minute of it (I still think you should have spent more than a few hours at Bharatpur - and Chambal too!). Even if the guidebooks have sometimes been misleading, you've always had another adventure or found something of interest to write about. Some great photos too - some I've posted to the Photography forum.

[DavidandSara]

Indian itineraries
We plan our own itineraries. David is heavily into Indian history, and we both love heritage buildings and animals/birds, so an ideal itinerary has both. And it saves a fortune to book it all direct! This trip went very well - the only mistakes were over-economising on the airport hotel (a problem we've fixed for the return leg bystaying in the Taj Mahal Palace hotel), the night in Khimsar which was billed as a fine heritage hotel but is almost entirely new build, albeit very sympathetically done, and having 2 nights in Alwar where one would have done. On the plus side the places where we got to stay with the maharajah were absolutely amazing.