BUNDI DIY
My Rajasthan pearl, my hidden gem.
Think of a small quiet town, with few tourists, completely walkable, where no one bothers you, where if people speak to you is not to sell you something or rip you off, with a wonderful royal palace and fortress, a lake, blue flat-roofed houses, which at sunset are full of kids intent to fly their kites, a guesthouse where you are treated as a relative, and not as paying guest.
This is why, left Pushkar one day ahead of schedule, I will stay in Bundi a day longer than expected. And, if only I had time, I would have stayed a week. Maybe a year.
The Lonely Planet says that the connections to Bundi will test the patience of foreign travelers, and this is the reason why it’s so quiet.
Indeed, to reach Bundi from Pushkar, it takes me several hours, changing bus in Ajmer, and tolerating a ride on the typical Indian bus which stops every three seconds, full of people. 160 km in 4 hours behind a passenger who vomits out of the window. The “thing”, driven by the wind, squashes on my window, that, by chance, I closed a few minutes before, without being aware of what was going to happen! I am already so addicted to these things that they do not even disgust me anymore, but let’s say that also other things along the way help to make the journey interesting. First, I propose to a standing lady close to me to give me her baby, to keep him on my knees. He, a child about six months old, first looks at me surprised, then, obviously scared out of my whitish skin, bursts into tears. Women around teach me that, to calm infants, they use to snap fingers, like Happy Days Fonzie. Meanwhile, twins, more or less my age, alike as two drops of water get on the bus and stand close to me. The peculiarity that makes them so interesting, and in fact I will stare at them till the time they get out, it is they are perfect doubles of George Clooney (when he was younger)! Obviously from then on I won’t be any longer disturbed by the potholes, the tremors, the urgency to pee, the continuous stops, the vomit of my neighbor, etc. etc..
At the arrival, I am approached by a guy on a motorcycle, Chintu, owner of the Hadee Rani guesthouse. Too lazy to find a place by myself, I agree to follow him and I settle on the back seat, one backpack behind and one in front. If the guesthouse sucks, I will invent something to leave
Instead, once I have seen it, I decide to stay. The Hadee Rani is in a light blue haveli, with a nice terrace where I can enjoy a wonderful view
The family who welcomes me is very friendly, and so the other guests, all Australians. My room, albeit basic and without hot water, is clean, and is offered at 200 rupees. If I need hot water, I can use the owners’ bathroom. The upper room rented by the very friendly couple who welcomed me, Nick and Josh, costs about 600 rupees, and it’s fantastic, much brighter, with a great bed, so definitely I recommend it. Besides them, the other guest is a girl from Freemantle, Odette, my same age, with the trip of yoga and dressed in Indian style.
Nick, who is originally from Piedmont like me, despite being born and living in Brisbane, invites me to join him and his girlfriend to make the first exploratory tour of the city. They have just arrived, from Udaipur, which is instead my next destination. The Hadee Rani is on the main road to Sadar Bazar, but what strikes me when I go out is that there are no souvenir shops !!! The local population is curiously watching us because we are foreigners, they greets us, they stop to ask where we are from, etc. etc., but no one bothers us as it happens in other places! We stop at a small shop for a fantastic sweet tea, this time flavored with cardamom, a spice that I adore!
Nick is attracted instead by a chaat-wallah, a little man with a cart full of snacks, similar to samosas : the chaat, precisely, delicious the one with chickpea and potato dumpling
On the contrary, I am a sweet tooth, and buy some delicious cakes, bars made with sesame, honey, peanuts
The atmosphere is really quiet, it’s like being in a village. At around 18.00, we return to the guesthouse and climb on the roof, invited by Chintu, to look at the kites flying
This is the most popular game among children, not only in India. Countless writers have described the poetry of the moment, from Pasolini to Hossein, so I do not intend to compete, as I risk to seem an idiot. From the terrance I can see in the distance the Royal Palace, the children of the neighboring houses draw our attention, showing their simple rectangles of thin tissue paper, tossing them, and trying to juggle them as well as possible. We encourage them with applauses and whistles of approval. It seems silly, but a Westerner who has never seen this show cannot understand the beauty of this moment, the sense of inner peace and well being that arises.
I visit the royal palace in Bundi on the morning of Christmas Day, the entrance costs 60 rupees, plus another 50 for the camera fee.
The access door is impressive and decorated with columns surmounted by statues of elephants
There are very few visitors, besides me, Nick and Josh. From the arches we see a beautiful landscape, the lake and the blue expanse of houses
Some walls are divinely frescoed
The Chitrasala, another elegant building dating 1600, next to the palace, has free admission, and beautifully maintained gardens
After the visit, we head up the hill to see the fort. We are advised to bring sticks to keep away the monkeys that have colonized the building, which is in a condition of complete neglect. Already reaching the top of the hill is a half adventure, because there is no paved road, and not a real path, so we often have to retrace our steps. The view from the heights is always beautiful.
Reached the ramparts of the fort, the trail is actually occupied by groups of monkeys, big males baboons, which scare even Nick, who is tall and strong. Pounding sticks on the ground we pass in the middle, very close, but they do not leave their position.
The interior of the fortress is really degradated, but in the courtyards it’s still possible to admire caravanserai arches, and decrepit haveli with magnificent woodwork and brightly colored frescoes.
Our aim is to cross the whole territory, to reach the north belvedere, where a horrible television tower has been built recently. The land is full of weeds, and we see snakes among the stones. Australians, experts on snakes, tell they might be poisonous. It’s like being in a video game. After the fight with monkeys, and the challenge with reptiles, here is the cisterns labyrinth we must overpass only by walking on the edges. Even get up on the walls of the cisterns is quite problematic, because they are high, and there are no protrusions on which to put our feet. Quite an adventure! After reaching the desired goal we are all agitated and excited like little boys. Apart from us, we find only one other couple of humans, Scandinavian backpackers. Their torn shorts indicate a smaller score and less ability in dealing with the game.
On the back of the fort, next to the aforementioned tv tower, there is a road. For the return, we follow this more comfortable solution. As soon as we meet other passers-by, we discover that we have to walk several kilometers, so we accept a ride on a rickshaw, stopping for another sweet tea on the banks of the Jait Sagar, where we can admire a white palace, which seems straight out of a fairy tale, the Sukh Mahal. For several years Kipling had lived there, at the time of writing of “Kim”.
Returned to base, Chintu announces us that we will be offered the Christmas dinner. Accompanied by him, we go to bakery to buy some sweets to offer to his family.
Odette, who has been settled in Bundi for about 5 days, and stays in India a few months, did not come with us to the palace, and preferred to take care of the decorations that now adorn the entire courtyard. Chintu’s mother gave her permission to hang ribbons and bows to a skimpy tree. The terrace of Hadee Rani is an open bar / restaurant for everybody, so some Brits who are there, after eating their meal, intrigued by our preparations, change their programs for the evening and remain with us.
I even get some gifts. Odette bought me a package of butter cookies. The day before in fact she heard a discussion with Nick, where I complained that I could not find this kind of cakes, which I usually keep for emergencies. I searched them desperately in a couple of shops, but in vain.
She found them somewhere at the bazaar, how nice!
Chintu’s mother, however, gives to all women some bangles
I decide that, instead of leaving the same evening for Udaipur, I stop another day.
The next day, always with Nick and Josh, I wander around the streets of Bundi to visit the famous “baori”. These are steps wells, some of them are located right downtown, and are decorated with columns and fine inlaid arches
Lost in the bazaar searching the post office, we are accompanied there by a young man to whom we asked for directions. To our surprise this lad, after taking us to the entrance door, goes away in the opposite direction, confirming that he wasted his time just to take care of us !!.
It is not something unusual, however, in India.
The market is chaotic, the cows roam shitting here and there, eating garbage and wilted vegetables, and also trying to sneak some fresh ones on the shelves, the shop owners keep them at distance without beating them. Some of them station in the middle of a roundabout, obstructing the traffic. The cars honk and wait until they decide to move. I could waste hours of my time watching these scenes, they are really out of this world, and any logic. Among other things, previosly, at the post office, a cow slipped inside up the stairs, and, for a while, there was no way to put it out !! It even curiously stuck his nose at the counter, as if it wanted to buy stamps too…
Back to the bazaar: some goods are laying down on the ground, others are exposed to clouds of fluttering flies, the hygiene does not reigns supreme at 100%, but there is a busy and joyous atmosphere, not the frightening degradated poverty I found in Delhi. Here people seem happy
I spend a few hours in the afternoon, wandering on the banks of Nawal Sagar, the artificial lake of the city center, sipping various teas in some small bars on the shores
After dinner, Chintu with his motorcycle gives me a free ride to the bus stop. As often happens, it’s just a kind of a gravel parking area on the main road, where there are some benches and a kiosk that sells tickets.
The bus consists of seats and sleepers. I booked one of the latter, hoping to have an easy life. And instead…
Nick had warned me that the road would have been “bumpy”, and that it would be impossible to sleep. In fact, he was not exaggerating.
First of all, it’s cold inside because the sliding windows do not close properly. I have no idea about the road conditions, but I just know that for my poor bones is a massacre. Among countless others, I take two noteworthy head bangs, the second very similar to that scene of “Castaway” when the plane suddendly falls and Tom Hanks slams violently on the luggage racks. .
Every now and then, the bus makes a pee stop. There are no toiliets, people free their bodily needs everywhere. In my search for a dark corner, I step on some sleeping stray dog puppies. I learn my lesson, next time I will bring a torch ….
A negative characteristic of buses traveling at night is their early arrival, when it’s cold, dark, and with nobody around, apart from the usual rickshaw-wallah waiting for passengers like vultures