Author: Michael Palin
Publishers: Phoenix
Pages: 296
The unimaginatively named book is a journal of Michael Palin and his team along the Himalayan Mountains, shooting a documentary for BBC. Palin begins his journey from a nondescript location at Khyber Pass, a place where the armies have crossed over in search of rich loot in India from the days of Alexander, and more recently, British. The journey takes him through mountainous regions of Pakistan, Ladakh, Annapoorna Ranges, Tibet, Yunnan and other Himalayan provinces of China, Nagaland and Assam, Bhutan and concluding with Bangladesh where every drop of precipitation on these mountains drains into.
It’s indeed a long journey and eventful one as he meets the last members of the Kalash tribes, gets close to K2 and feels the high Himalayas from up-close, is humbled by the unforgiving weather as he treks through Annapoorna, lunches with ebullient nomads on the base of everest, and much more and more.
Palin’s experiences invoke a never-before jealousy in the mountain lover who is ever-dreaming of being in these less mundane locations. But for the BBC team, the going is not always easy. They are constantly on their tows, low on time and always having to keep moving and answering the call of the work before they can get a place sink into their minds and hearts. There are missed opportunities, cold weather and altitude sickness to worry about.
Even as Palin has a subject that can conquer the reader, his writing doesn’t shine as much as the mountains themselves. Written like a personal journal with lot of commentaries and humour thrown in once a while, the flow is not natural from page to page and the reader is left with a feeling that Palin could do more with the pen. Nevertheless the strength of the subject and a reasonable narration, put together with the variety that comes along the journey still makes it a worthy read, especially if you are some one who is always dreaming about the mountains.
Travelling in Rajasthan in February 2008
Jaipur >> Shekhawati >> Pushkar >> Jaisalmer >> Jodhpur
+ Previous: Old City: City Palace, Jantar Mantar and Hawal – I
+ Next: Amber Fort and Jal Mahal
City Palace is a showcase of Rajasthan. A snake charmer welcomes the visitors with his snake-in-the-box, and blowing his pungi and making the snake raise its hood to charm the tourists. It works well. Hoards of tourists from the west who have been oversold with stories of snake charmers, rope-tricksters and elephant riders, tout their camera and smile with a triumph of having seen the India of their conception.
Cultural ambassadors take up corners of the palace to entertain tourists. Sitting in the palace coffee shop, I come out of my thoughts to the tunes of melodious music, from a young chap in traditional clothes playing Ravan Hatha. The piano-like string instrument has a low-pitch sound and its music has added pep to some popular Bollywood movies like Pardesi and Dor(Kesariya Balam). Poppet shows – called Katputlis – are played on request in another corner.
Handicrafts and museums spread around the palace keep the cultural showcasing going. The museum in Mubarak Mahal has a collection of artifacts that belong to the kings and queens – like sarees, overcoats, chairs and anything that could be collected. A gigantic robe belonging to Raja Madho Singh – I appears big enough to take his wife and children along with the king inside it. I understand what ‘king size’ is all about! An arms museum has a collection of pistols, rifles and less sophisticated instruments like knives and swords. A four barrel gun with a broken butt, which probably worked with a gun powder stays in my memory. A large art gallery in the palace is a place to look forward to. There is plenty to see (and buy) – paintings, marble work and metal artifacts that dazzle in the strong lights of the interior, sometime artists working on a few of them.
The interiors of the palace are much peaceful, especially for someone who has walked through the rush of the main roads outside. The spacious courtyards can take plenty of tourists and can still feel empty. I walk past Mubarak Mahal – the welcoming hall, the museums, and spend some time admiring the large silver pots placed in Diwan-i-Khas. The pots hold Guinness record for being the largest silver vessels in the world, and was used by King Sawai Madho Singh to carry the waters of Ganga wherever he went. Apparently he would not drink from a source other than the holy river.
The descendants of the kings still live in the palace, on the seven-story tower of Chandra Mahal. Access to the tower is restricted, and you can only see them up-close from below at the Pitam Niwas Chowk – an open courtyard. The four gates of the courtyard are painted with peacocks with bright blue colors and in different moods, said to represent the four seasons.
I sit on a stone bench near Mubarak Mahal after a few hours of walking the palace from corner to corner many times over. Rain from previous night has formed a small puddle near my bench, which attracts a dozen sparrows. They sit and bathe in the water by vigorously shaking their wings while keeping an eye on me. Once in a while they become a small crowd that tightly packs the puddle, and they fly in and out quickly to let others take over.
Out of the City Palace, I head to neighbouring Jantar Mantar – an astronomical observatory built by Maharaja Jai Singh. It looks like a maze of queer structures at first sight, but everything has a purpose. I want to hire a guide and find out more, but the ongoing restoration work puts me off and makes me move away.
I have spent more than half a day wandering the Old City and City Palace. There is still Hawa-Mahal to explore – another pink structure that epitomizes the architecture of Jaipur. Hawa Mahal was built to provide a platform for the women of the palace to see processions passing by the streets during festivals. The Lonely Planet quotes Hawa Mahal as an “extra-ordinary fairy tale”, but unfortunately my eyes fail to recognize much beyond the ordinary. The photogenic outer wall facing the road has a celebratory feel with their bright pink painting and patterns on the windows, earning it a rightful fame. But inside, it is no more than a maze of insipid rooms with peeling plasters, and small windows meant to isolate the royal women with rest of the world.
The walk to Hawa Mahal from City Palace is more enticing than the monument itself. There are pigeons squatting on every possible perch, wide and peaceful alleys, ancient structures that have a charm even in their dilapidated state, Chhatris and arches on the top of the buildings, old temples with just a handful of people sunning in the veranda, a few chai shops and shops selling bright wears of Rajasthan give a glimpse of what Jaipur used to be in the days of the kings.
Continued at Amber Fort and Jal Mahal
These camels were once pushed up the Karakoram Pass in the days of commute in Silk Route, apparently carrying 300kilos of grains, butter and fiber up the pass. Since 20th century, the jobless camels roamed the valleys of Nubra free and had a good time chewing Seabuckthorn leaves.
Today, a select few – the unfortunate handful – are harnessed for the tourist money and made to carry people for fun. Fun for people, I mean.