Bundi
March 28th — April 1st, 2018
Bundi bubbles with energy.
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It was a long, fist-clenching bus ride to Bundi. Every minute of the four-hour journey from Jodphur was intense. It was as if the bus driver was immersed in his own real-life video game, where the objective was to honk, yell, and — only at the last minute — dodge every obstacle (cars, cows, humans) in his way. At one point, I closed my eyes and braced, certain that he was going to crash into the 2-ton cow that was frozen stiff in the middle of the highway.
After what felt like an eternity, the bus reached the Bundi terminal. I calmed my shaking legs, disembarked from the metal death trap, strapped on my 50-pound backpack and followed Prathap in search of a rickshaw taxi.
As the taxi hugged the curves of Bundi’s windy roads in route to our accommodations, I picked up on a distinct energy.
A first, I couldn’t place what type of energy it was. It was just there — present and penetrating. Now, as I reflect back, I realize the energy was a mixture of conflict and celebration.
On our second day there, we noticed our mobile data and Internet services suddenly were not working. After inquiring about it with the hotel staff, they informed us that the government had shut down all digital communications — text messages, social media, etc. This was due to the mounting tensions between the local Hindu and Muslim communities. Tensions that were sparked a year prior when a figure of Hanuman (a Hindu idol) was restored at a Muslim cenotaph after a lightning strike had revealed the figure. Idol worship is strictly forbidden by the Muslim faith, so the restoration of a Hindu idol at a Muslim place of worship was found to be deeply offensive.
That weekend was the Hindu festival of the monkey — Hamuman Jayanthi. Given the rising tensions between the two communities, which in the past had resulted in the burning of shops and destruction of property, the government was taking what they believed necessary precautions to stem any organized violence that could occur during the celebrations.
As the towns people prepared for the festivities, the energy pulsed and shaped into a different form — one of celebration. Throughout the week, colorful decorations were strung in windows and across storefronts. Floats and portable stages were wheeled in and erected in parks and city squares. Temporary stalls selling sweets and confectionaries popped up in the streets and alleyways.
The festivities reached their climax on Saturday night. At sundown, people lined the streets in anticipation of the parade that was scheduled. Uninformed about the schedule of events, Prathap and I had chosen to dine at a restaurant at the start of the parade route. We quickly realized that our walk back from dinner was going to be an adventure.
The parade had an almost war-like rally to it. It was both thrilling and terrifying. An energy fueled by anger, celebration, pride, and determination pulsed throughout the crowd and guided the procession forward.
After 45 minutes of weaving and pushing our way through the crowds, we reached our hotel. Intrigued by the spectacle of it all, I went directly to the roof to watch the remainder of the march from a safe viewpoint.
As I joined the small crowd gathered on the roof, I could feel the energy below crawl up the sides of the buildings and engulf us onlookers with its beat and rhythm. It was captivating. It made me realize just how strong the invisible force of energy can be. And how important it is not to ignore.
3 Highlights:
- Taragarh Fort — Bundi’s crown jewel. The fort looms over the city with an imposing force. It can be seen from every angle. No street corner is free from its inflicting eye. It’s magnificent. It’s majestic. It’s mysterious. It is overgrown and spectacular. According to legend, it inspired Rudyard Kipling’s famous novel — The Jungle Book. The fort was completely derelict and eerily quiet the day we visited. This came as a surprise since every other tourist attraction we visited in India was crawling with people. Having the place to ourselves, we were able to explore all the hidden, overgrown corners. Kipling’s book came alive in my imagination as we swept away overgrown bush to reveal hidden open-air staircases leading to undiscovered courtyards. Descending from the fort was no easy feat. After maneuvering through thick bush riddled with thorns that kept getting stuck to the bottoms of my shoes, and walking down steep hills covered by slippery boulders, we encountered our final challenge — the monkey gang. Lining the palace walls was a group of langur monkeys 30 strong. They bared their sharp teeth and focused their yellow beady eyes on us, signaling that they were not going to put up with any monkey business from us. I clung to Prathap’s arm as he tightly gripped the stick the guard had handed to us when we purchased our entrance tickets; its purpose suddenly becoming clear.
- Breakfasts at our lovely accommodations — Dev Niwas. The breakfasts were simple and delicious — yogurt with banana, oatmeal with pomegranate, and honey sprinkled rotis. The setting was superb — an open-air dining room on the top level of the hotel overlooking the city with the Taragarh Fort as the backdrop. Each morning as I sipped my tea and enjoyed my homemade breakfast, scenes played out on the sea of rooftops below. A particular scene continues to play in my memory, one of an old man leading a small army of children in a morning stretch and exercise routine. It was entertaining, endearing, and adorable.
- Enjoying a masala coffee, made with love, at Krishna’s Chai Shop. I’m not certain if it was the welcoming smile worn by Krishna or his charming sidewalk sign declaring his chai was “Famous in The World and Mostly All Over Foreign Countries” that made us chose his café for our afternoon treat. Whatever the reason, I’m glad we stopped in. The coffee he served us was, hands down, the best coffee I have ever tasted. It was complex in both ingredients and process. Delectable and aromatic, the coffee warmed my body and my spirit. After finishing our first cup, we promptly ordered another — mainly so I could watch and frantically note down the recipe in hopes that I may one day be able to replicate it.
