In the shadow of Bundi palace

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Last night, as we sat struggling to post the last two blogs in the face of very intermittent broadband, we fell into conversation with a teacher from Delhi who was helping the Maharajah improve the quality of education in the private schools the Maharajah runs in Karauli. He told us the real (as opposed to the published government figure) literacy rate in Rajasthan is probably only about 30% and that many students who have been given a qualification by the school are still illiterate to the point of not being able to write their own name, in any language. As we were chatting, the Maharajah reappeared and there was an amusing moment when an Italian visitor espied him, while looking at a framed photo of him at his coronation. “Eet eez you?? You are heem? Maharajah?” She beamed before bowing and withdrawing. Meanwhile we were invited to join him and his son and their guests in his private quarters. We adjourned to a large sitting room with a large stuffed tiger on the floor, head growling but body folded up like a carpet, thus reducing the sense of ferocity, and various other stuffed hunting trophies. Besides the family pictures, there was a signed photo of George V, and the silver coronation chair on which the Maharajahs have been crowned on their succession. We felt very privileged to be invited to join the party.

This morning we sadly said goodbye to Bhanwar Vilas and set off for Bundi. What we had estimated to be a 4 hour journey took 5 ½ hours – such are Indian roads. Now that we are in Rajasthan, there are a lot of camels pulling carts, often laden with the red sandstone that is quarried locally. Driving in India requires nerves of steel from the driver, and a strong sense of inner faith from the passengers. It is essentially one big game of chicken. You drive at the maximum speed possible given the road conditions (i.e. generally not more than about 40mph) until you meet something slower ahead of you. If the road is clear you overtake giving a reasonably wide berth and hooting to indicate you are doing so. If there is something coming the other way, you normally continue to overtake, this time flashing your headlights to indicate you are not going to stop. If the oncoming vehicle is the same size or larger, they do the same. Usually one party cracks and pulls back in time to avoid a collision, but the number of dead vehicles by the road, and the shocking condition of bodywork on virtually every vehicle is clear testament that this is not always the case. Of course, if the oncoming traffic comprises a cow or a herd of sheep or goats, the driver has to give way as the animals clearly will not. On a main road, you worry about a crash at sufficiently high speed to cause injury or worse. In towns, the refusal every to wait for the oncoming vehicle to come past frequently leads to ridiculous stand-offs where neither vehicle can get past and neither will give way. We also had to slow to allow six or seven massive herds of very disciplined sheep to pass the other way, returning home our driver told us.



Eventually we arrived in Bundi, a small town that clings to the slopes under a massive fort with a palace at its lower edge. Once into the old town, the roads narrowed down to a single car’s width. Luckily our hotel was not far. We pulled up on the main road and the driver pointed up a steep narrow alleyway. ‘Hotel up there, car not go’. Fair enough! We clambered up a slope steep enough to challenge the best Tour de France riders and arrived panting at the entrance to a 300 year old haveli, built into the outer wall of the palace. Thankfully we did not have to drag the suitcases up! Our room is small but characterful, with heavy wooden doors - up three flights of stairs. Very character, very heritage. The town itself is eulogised in the guidebooks but the old buildings in the town have been significantly disfigured and are at first sight rather disappointing. The open sewer runs down the gutter which is a bit smelly and offputting even for old India hands like us. After a walk through town, we adjourned to the hotel for a rest, followed by an excellent dinner on the rooftop of the hotel, with a close-up view of the floodlit walls of the palace. Bats skittered out as the sun set, and the moon rose suddenly and quickly over the horizon.

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Comments

[Keep Smiling]

Not much has changed in Bundi!
I last visited Bundi with my wife in 1997 ('never again', said she!). We stayed in Kota but my wife's diary, which one day soon will become a blog, says about the palace at Bundi: (quote) It's now gently decaying. The guard had to unlock great doors to let us in - it was a steep climb thereafter. Something we could have missed out really, though there were interesting views down to the town below from the few terraces safe to walk on! (unquote) Remember to look where you're treading!