Rajasthan – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

January 14, 2022January 14, 2022

Sojourns to Shekhawati

What will we do with a door? The man asked for the nth time. Hang it above our bed like a canopy! I replied somewhat irately. On a flying visit to Jodhpur many moons back I had only one agenda. On the hunt I fell for these doorframes refurbished as bookracks. Stunnnning! (Someday…) This tall Gujarati door with its edges finely carved caught my eye. (Yeah, free guide to the doorways of India thrown in!). In the last warehouse, tiny doors connected these gargantuan halls, much like Aladdin’s cave interconnected in parallel portals. Stepping through to enter the last one something leaning on the wall behind stacked up furniture caught my eye. I made my way to stand in front of my door. A Shekhawati I was told. Since the territory had been the bulwark of the Rajput kingdoms to its south against marauding forces, diminutive doors made entry difficult and the metal embellishments reinforced their strength. A bit of a tall story about the small size…The tall gates of the havelis of Shekhawati, never mind the forts, would tell the small door to get back inside where it belonged and let them do the job of defending.

Year of the Backyard

Living in Shekhawati’s neighbourhood, through the Year of the Backyard as I call 2021, we had decided to stick to exploring places in our vicinity. One day sifting through some Facebook (it does have some redeeming features) pics I chanced upon stunning visuals of the havelis of Shekhawati. Wow! Art, architecture, history! Throw proximity in the pot and the recipe for an outing was complete. But let’s delve into the story of the region before we embark on a walk though the dusty hamlets and quaint towns that are a living art gallery.

Backyard also includes- Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

The Territory, Thikanedars and Traders

Shekhawati, the land of Rao Shekha and his descendants, was established as a separate principality when Rao Shekha declared independence from his Kacchawa clansmen at Amber in 1471. Over centuries it expanded to cover much of present Sikar, Jhunjhunu and Churu. His descendants and brethren constructed around 50 forts and palaces in this region and established their own fiefdoms or Thikanas like Nawalgarh, Mandawa, Dundlod. Shekhawati I am told means ‘Garden of Shekha’. I don’t buy that story. Garden is definitely not what this arid, sandy and drab territory can remotely be described as, where the only colour that blooms adorns either the attire of the people or the buildings made by them. It is also the land where the trading routes criss-crossed from Delhi and Kannauj to Sindh and Multan and towards Gujarat. The rulers depended on the merchants traversing through to pay jagat or transit dues to fill their coffers while the latter would get protection to carry on their trade safely. In time many moved and settled in these thikanas. Well known business families- Poddars, Goenkas, Birlas, Piramals to name some, trace their roots to this region.

Discover-The Gardens of Delhi – A Walk Not Only on the Green Side but Through History Itself

Being House Proud

What a fort or garh is to a king or ruler in Rajasthan, a mansion or haveli is to a merchant. In a land where iconic forts like at Jaipur, Jodhpur and Jaisalmer draw the tourists, in Shekhawati its the havelis which hold their own. Here the merchants upstaged the rulers and their forts. In a ‘have it flaunt it’ attitude the merchants, as they prospered trading in cotton, opium, spices and silks, became patrons of art making their mansions not just more ornate but more opulent inside out. Once they were done with their own dwellings they moved on to making chattris, wells and ponds. But money is a Pied Piper. They followed it here and eventually in time trailed behind it to Calcutta and Bombay where new rulers set up bigger trading posts. Now most of the havelis lie forlornly neglected.

Camels walk- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Artful Architecture

The havelis have a set template when it comes to architectural style with generally two courtyards and two storey’s. Massive arched doors make impressive entrances. The intricate woodwork of the doors and windows makes them a collector’s item. But it’s the frescoes adorning every inch of the building at times which are the piece de résistance. These encapsulate mythological and historical figures and tales, folk tales, flora and fauna, decorative designs, erotica and not the least the Britishers and their devices. Some depict faraway lands, few fanciful scenes, and occasionally plain hilarious ones. Gold leaf and Belgian glass is often a glittering embellishment. The richness of material and descriptive details were meant to shock and awe and they do, still!

Read about nature’s shockers in- Barot And the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

Once on a visit to the National Gallery of Modern Art in Delhi we were told it is nigh possible to see everything in it in a day. Shekhawati’s treasures too are scattered over numerous little towns and hamlets all vying for unhurried and close attention from discerning travelers to truly reveal their hidden facets. So what not to miss on a visit to a region which is a living art gallery where exceptional architecture provides a canvas for many a masterpiece?

We’ll begin with Mandawa…coming up next.

December 17, 2021December 17, 2021

Bikaner’s Chattris: Royals in Repose

If one wants to meet our dearly departed where do we go? In our culture, no particular place it would seem, but there have never been any absolutes. So we find cenotaphs or chattris in many parts of the country, especially of the royal families, built to honour the memory of the nobles. The first cenotaphs I explored were at Orchha. Like breathing gargoyles endangered vultures sat on the eaves of the humongous monuments made in the typically Bundelkandi architecture, rose bushes faintly scenting the air. There also a few generations give each other company in their walled enclosure.

Read about the Chattris of Orchha in- Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

At Bikaner the cenotaphs of the royal family are located at Devi Kund Sagar. Here too on the outskirts of Bikaner the chattris are clustered around in a walled space. But unlike the handful at Orchha, here generations of men, women and children are neatly placed, precisely dated and relations clearly catalogued like a family tree spread in a garden. A requiem in stone. We head there one evening with the sun descending, ready to call it a day. The place is clean and paved thankfully since we have to take off our footwear at the entrance.

Discover – The Gardens of Delhi – A walk not only on the green side but through history itself

There is some open space as we enter and to a side a small one is being constructed. I wonder how it works …are they made in anticipation according to the wishes of the alive for their ever after resting place or is it left to the whims of the descendants how best to honour the memories? The first one on the right, also the last to be made in 2003 of Maharaja Narendra Singh, is a small chattri in red sandstone, a throwback to the oldest ones at the far end. Two across it are incongruously ‘modern’ and look out of place. They invoke a socialism influenced spartan look somehow in my mind.

There is nothing spartan about- Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

Majority of the big ones in between are of creamy marble with beautifully carved pillars and arches. Some of the domed roofs have stunning artwork on the inside. One follows a limited but eclectic black and blue colour scheme to depict gods and goddess. Another has Radha Krishna in a circular sequence. At the far end they are mostly made of red and pink sandstone with high and beautifully carved floral plinths. The oldest belongs to Rao Kalyanmal, the 5^th ruler of Bikaner who died in 1571.

Explore the hues of Rajasthan in- Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

A small one between the big marble and sandstone chattris stands out not only because it belongs to a woman (the board along the wall says Madan Kunwar, 1826) as denoted by the small feet engraved on the marble piece but also because of its distinctive architecture. The eaves curve and sweep down like boughs of a weeping willow.

A man rides into his afterlife with his women.

Someone explains the exact iconography in the chattris. The ones belonging to the menfolk have vertical slabs whose edges are beautifully scalloped and carved, engraved with either a man seated with a woman on a throne or alone on a horse, attendants around. Below within a wreath of carved and twisted leaves things are inscribed. . The ones on horseback we are told denote whose wives committed sati on their death. From the first ruler, Rao Bikaji to the thirteenth king, Maharaja Zorawar not only wives but concubines and at times attendants and slave girls too were expected to commit sati. No wonder women pray for their husband’s long life! There is a temple near the end dedicated to Satimata. It is has a lot of visitors. The barbaric practice might have ended but the idea still is romanticized and worshipped.

Where a woman is literally worshipped – Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

On one end are the chattris of the women in red sandstone. They are smaller and many are devoid of the ornamentation visible in the men’s. Most have a single pair of tiny feet made on a marble piece, boards alongside clearly mentioning their names and that of their husbands. One near the end has four pairs of feet. The board gives three names of women and one of a man. There are 4 different dates mentioned so I don’t think they are satis or a sato, a rare but recorded occurrence where men commit the act too. The family has had a few instances of them. There are memorials of children too called nada. It’s a simple plinth with no canopy.

Reviving past glories and – Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

The sun is a ball of blazing orange visible below the arches as curiosity gets the better of me and I unlatch one of the many small wooden doors lined up on the wall, one before each cenotaph. They all open to a sloping ground with broken tombstones, littered with a bit of rubbish ending with an embankment holding back a big pond lined with lotuses. A glossy black cobra slithers amongst the tombstones. As it disappears behind one nearby I hurriedly step back through the door. Latching the door I turn to see the moon has risen and its almost a full moon bathing the monuments in its luminescent light. It is going to be a beautiful night for a family get together.

May 31, 2021June 4, 2021

Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

There are mansions and there are havelis and then there are the havelis of the merchants of Bikaner who traversed the fabled Silk Route. Merchants, traders….travellers of yore. Peddling their wares in far off lands and returning with exotic treasures. What stories they would tell… of fabulous cities visited, small yet intriguing places crossed, strange people encountered, the adventures they had…all in the pursuit of the scent of fortunes to be made. To come back home to their families, to befittingly beautiful havelis made with the riches of trade.

Discover the story of original nomads at- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

The Rampuria havelis of Bikaner named after the owners, the richest merchant family of Bikaner in the 15^th century or so, line a winding maze. There are no fancy grounds, no gate or garden, not even a shred of a shrub! Perhaps they don’t need the superfluous adornment of gardens or land to add to their grandeur. So nothing prepares you for the facades…. There is no build up. Along with the sensory overload there is a physical reaction to them–the jaw slackens, eyes don’t know where and what to take in- the structures, the chiselled Dulmera stone relief, the carved and shuttered wooden windows painted eclectic green and blue, the jharokas or the panels? There is no let up and yet each element comes together perfectly.

Magnificent workmanship is like..- An Ode to Ancient Life in Stone- The UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ajanta & Ellora

A slightly haphazard lane lined with new banal construction brings us to a little town square of sorts. The main haveli presents its closed haughty profile much like the famed ‘Bani-Thani’ of Rajasthan. But a bass relief closer still, on a wall in the most amazing shades of peeling pink distracts us first. King George with his handlebar mustache and two horses at his ears looks down at us a tad comically. Next is a Queen Mary, his wife, with a pair of horses again. The third is intriguing- there are lions at the ears this time and the queen with a double chin wears a big nose ring and looks Indian and self-conscious. Semi-circular balconies with a distinctive European feel crown the bass relief. It was probably the last one to be made in the 19^th century.

Find the story of another queen in- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

The most photographed face of the entire lot of the havelis presents itself at an angle. In the narrow spaces between the building thanks to its location, it’s the only one which allows a complete picture. It again shows an European influence with brick finish, shuttered turmeric yellow-brown wooden arched doorways, windows and coloured glass windows on the top floor. The narrow alley is empty even though its way past the morning golden hour. An odd nearby resident walks past with a milk pail and massive cows/bulls saunter around. Waiting to be fed not milked!

Step through these doors to another time.

Standing in front of the yellow doorway one gets the best view of one of the most elaborate facades. The workmanship is stunning in its detail I don’t know where to begin. The green wooden windows vie for attention from the protruding jharokas, the panels with simpler carving provides some relief and the only stone parapet painstakingly carved through stands out, as does the tall, narrow entrance. The slight angle and blue doors replacing the green and just a shift in the carving makes me realise there are two havelis adjoining each other.

Read about the stunning stories of Orchha in- Part Two – The Old Gold in Outstanding Orchha

The green Jonga parked nearby, a relic of the past, looks like its been on long journeys over dunes and if I let my imagination run wild, over wind-swept passes all the way to the Steppes of central Asia….the long Silk Route and it survived to tell the tale…. I know its old but not that old! If only it could talk…. It might cough and splutter a lot to begin with…

Travel on another road in- Chushul &Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

As we walk a few steps a small wooden board next to a padlocked door announces an address in Calcutta. The trade trail crisscrossed the country with the power-centre and trade shifting.

We have to crane our necks to look at the stunning workmanship of the havelis here on either side of the constricted lane. They are all made from the unique pinkish-red Dulmera sandstone found nearby. I find myself looking at rounded, bulbous overhangs, supporting jharokas whose unique shapes with narrow windows at angles make me gape! And I realise that the best haveli(don’t know their individual names) is the least visible and so what if its façade is just that, as a side view lets out the secret. Beauty can be skin deep and when its so beautiful…who cares.

Neighbourhood Gossip Corner & Safety Perch

As I am taking in the side profile with a pretty lamp to light it all up at night the cows have finished their promenade and are congregating nearby. I had noticed the massive wooden takht or platform where the street widened out and marveled at this local hanging out contraption. As one of the bulls gets too close for comfort looking for a treat I scramble onto it. Sitting in safety and admiring the haveli like a roadside Romeo I fancy its pink- red colouring is rather like a permanent blush thanks to centuries of awe-stuck admirers.

Discover the other attractions of Bikaner in- The Bird-book of Bikaner

April 30, 2021May 2, 2021

Picture Postcards from Bikaner’s Bylanes

The pandemic has put paid to my travelling plans and right now travellers are not in my good books. I will not confess at having even an iota of envy as I incessantly scroll through their Insta stories showing skiing trips to virgin glaciers only accessible by puny gliders or Facebook updates of morning walks under scarlet rhododendrons lining bridle paths snaking up a mountain side. Its not been a year to perform or perish, rather one of transform or perish, sometimes quite literally, unfortunately. So this year, the year of the backyard as I call it, has seen me transform from a traveller to an explorer. Health is where the hearth is, to give a new spin to an old saying.

Read more about the transformation in – Same Place, New Attitude

Hearth now is at a place which is not up there on the tourist circuit despite being home to some well preserved treasures and no, I’m not talking about the bhujia! I mean as snacks go the crispy, mildly spiced bhujia is firmly in the category of safe savior/emergency tray filler. Nobody is going to salivate at the sight of it. One wickedly wonders how exciting can a place, word associated with the bhujia, be? Bikaner has always been seen as the poor country cousin to the more flamboyant Jodhpur with the jet-set crowd well jet-setting in and out of it, a romantic Udaipur- a honeymooner’s magnet, Jaisalmer with its commanding fort and pristine but fast disappearing sand dunes or even Jaipur offering most accessible sampling of all things Rajasthani. But as is the wont of country cousins, what they might lack in chicness they make up in oodles of charm.

Savour tales of Rajasthan’s food in- Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

Bikaner’s founding ruler Rao Bika set off from Jodhpur around 1472 AD to a vast land which, despite being on the trade route from Central Asia to Gujarat, was so desolate and uninhabitable it was called Jangladesh. Ironically, there wasn’t any love lost between the two erstwhile states, the maximum battles over the centuries being fought to fend off the probing Jodhpur forces while Rao Bika’s pragmatic descendants managed to keep the peace with the Mughals and the British. Bikaner was way more progressive than any of her neighbouring princely states at the time of Independence and was the first to sign the Instrument of Accession to the Indian Union.

Scroll though another series of postcards starting with – Picture Postcards from Bundelkhand

At the center of of it all- Junagarh Fort

So what does Bikaner serve up apart from the Junagarh fort which showcases some of the finest examples of the rare and opulent Usta artwork and houses palaces with names like Badal Mahal, Phool Mahal which faithfully reflect successive architectural influences? To be found here also are-Jain temples in all their carved glory, cenotaphs of nearly sixteen generations of royals clustered serenely near Devi Kund Sagar, havelis of uber rich merchants putting up an intricate and haughty facade to hide their inner desolation, a successful conservation story at Jorbeer’s vulture sanctuary and Karni Mata, the only temple in the world where rats are worshipped, to name a few. So much to tell over some drinks and Bikaneri Bhujia!

Explore the natural side of Bikaner in- The Bird-book of Bikaner

Coming soon….

Bikaner’s Merchants and their Mansions

Putting up a haughty facade to hide the lonely stories.

April 11, 2021

Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Holi was a day of colours alright, as natural and organic as the landscape could provide. Morning dawned a blemish free blue as we headed out. The fields of wheat between Junia and Todaraisingh were a blinding gold, ripe to be shorn. We crossed giant quarries showing seams in more than 50 shades of grey granite but nature isn’t about to write paeans about her bondage scenes anytime soon.

Read about memorable holi scenes in – Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

Sitting pretty in a sloping manicured garden with lush trees for company, the 12th century Hadi Rani ki Baori at Todaraisingh was an oasis of green, inside out. The water within emerald, and she playfully threw back dappled sunlight at the arches on a side. A lesser cormorant dried its shiny black wings as a wagtail warmed its belly on the stone steps. Much like we would have, if we had been dousing each other with water. We admired the precise geometry of the steps that make up three sides of the stepwell and explored the cool arched recesses, which make up the fourth of this rectangular structure. The baori was made in memory of a newlywed princess who chopped off her own head, to ensure her hesitating husband had nothing to hold him back from a battle, which he went on to survive only to follow his dearly departed wife in a similar fashion. A story as macabre as it was heroic but then we are in a land where such tales echo off the walls of scattered memorials. There are other smaller stepwells around Todaraisingh, an overgrown village with a catchy name.

Discover stepwells and other stories in –Mandu and Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

Savour the best Kachoras in the world in – Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

After a picnic breakfast there, of packed crunchy kachoris and stuffed mirchi pakoras, we made our way towards a dam that seems quite vast on the map. The green scraggly shrubs with splotches of yellow flowers provided relief from the dullest indeterminate colour of the winding range of hills but it was the flame of the forest holding up their flowers like torchbearers in a hunt, in shades of watery to fiery orange, that dotted the forested hills with increasing regularity. The flowering tree reviving memories of childhood holis, where the flowers added to giant tubs tinted the water orange, for us to fill our pichkaris or simply dunk someone in! As we rounded a bend on the road snaking at the base of the hills, their line broken every now and then by gullies emptying nothing but broken boulders, we spied an ocean of azure blue. What a sight the people living in those huts along the pebbly shore must be waking up to! The sky and the Bisalpur reservoir gently filled their pichkaris with blue, feeding off each other, so entwined at the horizon, that you couldn’t make out where one ended and the other began.

Dive into the colours of another lake in –Pangong Tso – The Gems in the Crown

The 12^th century Bisal Deoji temple, worn with age and holding within it stunning carvings, sits proudly at the water’s edge and watches them play, not inclined to join in the revelry but left with no choice as the sky blue waters lap at it’s feet. It was on higher ground but the water has inundated it all, not even sparing the temple courtyard in the wet season. The interiors reveal the remains of stunning Maru- Gurjara or Solanki style of architecture with richly carved and in one instance, inscribed column. The higher figurines have been spared the disfigurement meted out to the lower ones. The cool shaded hall with its concentrically carved dome stands in stark relief to the bright openness of the lake with a golden sandy island nearby turning green.

Explore distinct architecture in – Part Two – The Old Gold in Outstanding Orchha

Sitting proudly and watching the play of colours.

Back home the tikkis of magenta put by the lady of the house at Junia Niwas rounded up the colour palette for the day. Nature’s harlequin canvas giving us a holi to remember in technicolour.

Fact File-

Tonk is 48 kms from Todaraisingh and is the nearest big town.

Todaraisingh is about 114 kms from Ajmer.

Bisalpur dam is about 126 kms from Ajmer.

November 16, 2019April 27, 2020

Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

I think my taste buds are prone to sentimentality. They hunger for food that is tinged with nostalgia, which has its own piquant flavor. I don’t recall how old I was when I first had a ‘Kachora’ but I do remember it was pretty much love at first bite. Nasirabad railway station was a stop we started looking forward to in the journey from Ajmer to Mhow because it meant a quick dash to get about half a kachora…,indulgence enough as far as my grandfather was concerned, to be had with tea in ’kulhads’ (earthen cups), before that rocking meter gauge train chugged its way onward. The wheels of time turned and one day I stood seeing off the fiancé at Mhow railway station as he headed towards Nasirabad. Then those wheels turned some more and the railway line converted to broad gauge partly, derailing the journey on that route.

Another train journey gave us – Picture Postcards from Bundelkhand

Railway Station Rendezvous’

So while in Nasirabad couple of days back we see that we have a few hours to spare. The sentimental taste buds start pulling the emotional chords and I find us heading for an early (By my standard.) cup of tea to the station. We cross some immaculately kept churches. One looking very Scottish with it’s stone tower but still at home somehow in that dry setting. (Well it has had about a century to make itself comfortable.) We turn onto a road with no sign post but the railway line right there gives a hint of the possibility of a station’s location and there it is, one of the smallest stations I’ve ever been to, being swept clean with giant brooms. We are in luck! A young man is carting a big pile of fresh kachoras into the station from the dhaba behind where they are being made over wood fire. For two minutes I delude myself into thinking that they are baked! Only my delusions are half baked! We plonk ourselves on a vacated bench at the platform, watch a train pull in and the kachoras are hawked out in small portions.

Explore the churches of another town in- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

We sip chai and savour our portion of memories- warm, crunchy, the dal stuffing rightly spiced, served on a piece of newspaper. The piping hot cuppa although refreshing, is no longer served in the eco-friendly kulhads. I remember Lalu Prasad as Railway Minister redeeming himself in my eyes a teensy-weensy bit when he reintroduced kulhads on the trains. The proprietor of the shop at the station is delighted but I think a little perplexed too, that we would drive to a railway station for old time sake.

Nasirabad is not a one-horse town!

Then we head towards the other more famous shop near the bus stand which serves kachoras – Chawannilal’s. We cross a ‘tonga’ (Horse cart). Oh my God! There are places where they have not been put to pasture! If there was one other thing associated with railway stations, it was them. The struggle to get a trunk on and off a tonga!! The happy cumbersome ride, the sound of hooves clip-clopping early in the morning through deserted streets & the rousing welcome when we reached the grandparents. We ask for directions and are told of a short cut. Always a bad idea but we never seem to learn! At a turn there is a shed where other horses are munching, untethered. The tongas resting at an angle and the drivers sitting around with their beedis. We turn into one of the narrowest lanes, barely wider than the width of the car. I’m sure the residents must have thought that our car was definitely bigger than our brains! Fortunately it’s a short lane. (It is supposed to be shortcut.) The older houses have jharokas embellishing the windows and colonnaded pillars but it seems the masons of today don’t possess the skills to redo them. So they are being smoothened out while being repaired. All the artistic carving will be one day ironed out into a bland cement wall in time.

Discover the history of another town in- A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi

Chawannilal’s Culinary Cache

Chawannilal’s shop is right there and bustling. The owner in a crisp white kurta is sitting at the back with an aide, helping make the kachoras. He makes perfect cups of the dough, firmly pats the stuffing in, seals, then rolls them out and finally gently slips them into the massive kadai full of hot oil. (Definitely not baked!) Those half baked illusions of mine evaporate up the fancy chimney forever. Today some kachoras are being shipped all the way to Calcutta. The potato stuffed ones are good too but they don’t stay longer than a day or so. On a smaller wok, at the entrance, jalebis are being made. One guy has a generous helping put on top of his kachora. At the owner’s urging I take a jalebi. It is bite sized, thin, crisp & delicious! I’ve been eyeing the ‘mawa’ cake at the counter and what the heck; now that I’m in a food free fall I have one. Melt in the mouth and rightly sweetened! The cooled kachoras are packed and we have them the next day. They taste even better! Flaky crust peeling off, bits of fennel & coriander popping up in bites of dal, a hint of asafoetida now and then, nostalgia adding flavor, making it warmer, richer and satiating not just the palate. This snack is on my soul food menu, what is on yours?

For another superb Rajasthani culinary journey read- Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

Fact File –

Nasirabad is 21 kms from Ajmer.

Cost of a Kachora –

At the Railway Station – Rs 160 / kg

At Chawannilal – Rs 180 / kg

For more Rajasthani food fables read –

March 8, 2019April 25, 2020

Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

The rain keeps up it’s intermittent pitter-patter as we make our way from Ajmer to Junia. Our hostess & driver for the journey, is a god-loving woman, who insists on driving right upto every temple door en route ( The word fear has been left to all the other drivers to deal with …. swerve/brake in her wake, as she suddenly spots a temple & rushes towards it! ) so that she & all of us along with her, can pay obeisance to the motley lot of deities by the road without getting our hair wet. Vanity trumping piety by just a bit. What it can’t beat is gluttony as we stop & hop across the mud at a dhaba to indulge ourselves in the famous ‘Kachora’ that Nasirabad is so famous for. The best ones I still feel are to be found at the Nasirabad railway station which we would have warm with piping hot tea whenever we would take the train on this route. The train would arrive there right at tea time. But nostalgia has it’s own appetite & so we indulge it with cold kachoras, warm kachoris & guavas from a scruffy looking fruit-seller across the road. The guavas beg to be eaten right away & they turn out to be even more delicious than the Chittorgarh ones, with a hint of tang chasing the crunchy sweetness that only unripened guavas have. So many winters I have sacrificed bits of teeth at the altar of love for this crazy fruit.

Discover Nasirabad’s world famous Kachora in- Nasirabad Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

The sun & wind chase the dark clouds & a beautiful rainbow towards the east as we follow the tail end of the clouds. I’ve always found winter rain to be utterly romantic.( Can listen to November Rain on loop! ) But lets not be narrow -minded about the definition of romance! It can be a delightful ménage à trois between my stomach & food accompanied by winter rain just there…in the background! We reach Junia, a tiny hamlet off the main grid in the Rajasthan circuit, with a small fort almost obscured by the surrounding houses. The narrow lane that leads to our destination has these houses with miniature haveli-like colourful facades. A turn in the lane ends at the gate of Amar Bagh, with the lake & a flaming sunset beyond. Just in time for a piping hot cuppa ready to be had with the remnants of the kachori-kachora on the patio.

The main house at the Bagh has been lovingly touched up & it still feels like a home away from home. ‘Jal Mahal’, the tiny ‘Lake Palace’ on the lake is as delightful as ever with it’s permanent residents, the old tiger heads & House Martins who come out every evening to put up a cacophonous show over the lake, water or no water. It is quite a sight with the setting sun as a backdrop as we sit on the patio by the lake. The perfect place for morning tea, evening tea, afternoon beer…heck, everything! I could spend my entire time there watching the hours unfold. A tree on one side of the floor provides a canopy with branches stooping so low as if seeking the water that is no longer there in the lake. The perils of progress, check dams nearby, seem to have reduced the water flowing into the lake which is a natural catchment for the extra runoff of the rains.

More stories of rain, lakes and palaces in- Mandu & Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

The next morning & every morning while I’m there we take a stroll in the Bagh, rediscovering old haunts. We go past the tiny Shiv temple, (Where years back I had discovered a small dead bat & wrapping it’s feet around my fingers had proceeded to scare the wits out of the kids around me.) & the magnificent old tamarinds near the ramparts, turn at the step-well (Where we would hang out along with the pigeons, blowing smoke circles into the air peacefully, safely away from twitching noses..) & the banyan guarding it towards the orchard that gives the place it’s name. I discover another step-well, this one with an arched entrance to the steps which is even more ornate. We walk back through the orchard of guavas & lime. The latter fruiting & flowering in equal measure giving the whole place the faintest whiff of sharp sweetness. Fresh & tart. Lunch is the most delicious ‘khata’ I’ve had in a while, perfectly thin & tangy ,true to it’s name, the way its done only in Rajasthan. Its turning out to be one gastronomical trip as in the evening while we warm ourselves around the bonfire, mutton is cooked on open fire by the man of the house. The ‘Laal maas’ made by Thakur Kishore Singhji has always been such a treat. The patience & heart with which he spends the hours required to cook it to perfection can be tasted in every bite. He tempers the fieriness for us & we wipe our plates clean leaving no trace of the perfect thick gravy. Poor Russel, the resident golden hunk doesn’t get more than one tiny morsel as reward for all the doleful looks he has been giving all evening patiently.

There are no traces of the clouds that rained down in the night the next morning & it’s blue & clear & we’re like beached whales still digesting a breakfast of more kachoris & khata, a combination I’ve had for the first time, & stuffed ‘mirchi bhajias’ all washed down with coffee. A surprisingly good fusion. Our reverie is broken by the clamour of jangling bells & the bleating of sheep & goats. A big herd is making the most of the dried lake which is like a grassy rolling meadow right now. Sheep can walk across the length of the lake without lifting their heads much like a lawnmower & they keep up the background din through the afternoon, the sounds occasionally blown away by the breeze. In the evening we visit the ‘chattri’ made in honour of the founding father of the clan. Like all warriors of old there are stories of battles & valor, of a heroic death & an exalted legacy to be followed & honoured.

Discover goats, rain and great food in ht hills this time in- Barot – And the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

Its blissfully peaceful in the Shiv temple. The silver convertible Herald parked under the massive tamarind is long gone but the peacocks are still there in abundance, as skittish as ever & they scatter as we stroll through the bagh. Adulthood has given a quiet burial to a childhood dream of catching one of them. All the running around in the orchard back then would only culminate in spent energy & nothing more, thankfully. We return from our walk to find chilled beer, some more ‘laal maas’ to be had this time with ‘battis’ made by the gatekeeper. They’ve been made on smoked cow dung ( I know how that sounds but trust me that is as authentic as it gets! ) & then dunked, by the looks of it in a bucket of clarified butter, but by God! they are divine…crunchy on the outside & melt in the mouth inside! I mentally apologize to our home cook whose ‘battis’ I’ve thought till now to be the ultimate but these are a notch above. I request one to be saved for my journey back the next day since I’m stuffed till the gills right then but tomorrow is another day! After that leisurely lunch I want to crash out right there on the patio but manage to crawl into my bed somehow. The breeze has taken a breather that night & we have a bonfire outside the main house. There is some company today from the village, rugged sun kissed faces glowing in the fire light, talking about the produce of the season, local politics & village matters & I struggle to follow the cadences of the local lingo & give up, just soaking in the mellifluousness flowing around the crackling fire.

The last morning dawns cloudy & windy & there is rain en route to Jaipur. We stop for one last feast of roadside pakoras although my ‘batti’ has been duly packed along. I quash my reluctance to have fried roadside food & dig in. They are sassy, as only freshly fried, piping hot pakoras can be with bits of coriander & fennel around the chilli, surprisingly not hot at all. Literally saying ‘don’t be uppity!’ Who would want to leave this idyllic life, food heaven & head to the city?! Even ‘Anokhi’ with it’s inviting cafe, coffee aroma wafting around isn’t enticing enough when one is fully fed up, belly full with the delectable charms of Junia.

Find other place to have coffee in- The Gardens of Delhi – A walk not only on the green side but through history itself