Tea at the Phool Mahal Palace, Kishengarh

30th November 2013

It has been six months since we stopped by for tea at Kishengarh, Rajasthan, on our way to a school reunion at Ajmer.

The last time it was Dungarpur where we had a lovely weekend, and I even managed some birding.  This time, the group had swelled and no royal palace was large enough for the reunion sadly, and we had to go off to one of those regular large places for the fellowship and fun.

But we could still stop for tea at Phool Mahal in the town of Kishengarh. 

First views of Gundalao lake

So much similarity between the  palaces - a lake front, lovely archways and cupolas, and a temple in the middle of the lake.

I took my cuppa, and sat here.  The hubbub and frisson was on the verandah, and I was in a sudden oasis of calm, imagining the days gone by.

The paintwork was beautifully maintained, and I took my time admiring the colours and enjoyed the detailing.

I didn't know it then, but read later on about the Kishengarh school of miniature paintings, which this royal family patronised and developed.  Story goes that in 1952, a Prof Eric Dickinson who was an English Prof at Mayo College, Lahore discovered a bundle of these exquisite minatures, on Radha and Krishna.

If only I had read this before my visit, I would have done a more detailed exploration of the walls, I thought!

Bani Thani:  (Wikipedia)

An interesting side story is that crown prince Savant Singh, a Krishna bhakta,  fell in love with the Queen Mother's "slave girl", a singer called Bani Thani, (who has since been immortalised on an India stamp).

So the prince got Nihal Chand, the main painter to do her portraits, which then began to represent  Radha.  He retreated more an more from affairs of the state, he wrote and sang as Nagaridas and Nihal Chand painted!

....And here was I on the verandah of the palace completely unaware of this beautiful, historical anecdote about Kishengarh, or the presence of poet Vrind in these courts, or that this was the place where Radha  came into her own.

A portrait of one of the kings (I've forgotten which one", with the symbolic halo.  In the main hall of the palace

The day was ending, and there was a happy bunch of middle aged men, who wandered around, oblivious of the views, caught up in nostalgia and the process of re-connection.

We wives too were swept into this torrent of infectious cheer, discovering sides of our spouses we were unaware of,  making new friends along the way.

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The weekend had just begun!

The lions of Gir

I saw this article in The Hindu today, and it reminded me of our 2011 trip, and our Kutchi summer. We made our own "lion movie",  and I got a history lesson at Junagadh.


Pride of the jungle - The Hindu

ZERIN ANKLESARIA

AP A lioness at a drinking hole inside the sanctuary.

TOPICS

Come October, and season begins in Gir, the home of the fabulous Asiatic lion. Zerin Anklesaria was there recently and, thankfully, lived to tell the tale.

On a quiet night, so they say, the roar of an adult male lion can be heard five miles away. No such roaring welcome greeted us as we drove into Sasan Gir with the moon riding high, but we were certainly in lion country, with road signs pointing the way to Mane Land Jungle Lodge, Lion’s Paw Resort, Pride of Gir, Elsa’s Lair, and so on.

For me, this was a sentimental journey, for my father had served under the Nawab of Junagadh before Independence and as children we had visited Gir, staying in palatial grandeur at The Royal Hunting Lodge. The Nawab, a great animal lover, rarely hunted and it was chiefly maintained for Indian rajas and British VIPs for whom a lion was a prized trophy.

A party of 20 of us stayed there for four memorable days in sybaritic luxury. This was soon after the then Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, had left. The cellars were still stocked with the choicest wines, and the larders with cheeses, jams and canned fruit from Australia. The chefs cooked up mind-boggling meats, game and desserts.

Six of us little girls were allotted the master bedroom where the centrepiece was an enormous double bed with an 8-inch box-spring mattress imported especially for the Viceregal couple. Far from prying adult eyes, we spent our evenings using it as a trampoline to see who could jump the highest. The bed survived the onslaught. The mattress did not.

The world outside presented a harrowing contrast. A single tarred road led to the hunting lodge, and the Forest Officer occupied the only other building. Jeep tracks meandered through the forest and the Maldhari herdsmen merged with the hard, brown earth, living in poverty with their cattle in villages scattered across the 1400 sq. km of the sanctuary. In this semi-desert region agriculture was impossible.

Coming here now what a difference I found. We drove in from Rajkot on ribbon-smooth roads to the peripheral areas of the sanctuary — all neat, well-planned and free of garbage. With tourism has come unimaginable prosperity. Accommodation ranges from dharamsalas and budget hotels to the lordly Taj; canals supply water for gardens and cultivation; and local children study at an English medium school.

Our first safari started off rather tamely. I had the front seat in the jeep and couldn’t hear what the guide was saying. My information came solely from the grumpy driver who pointed out ‘snake’, ‘deer’, ‘mongoose’ and other uninspiring fauna in a single word. ‘Budd’ had me stumped, till he amplified. ‘Peacock’, he said.

It was just half an hour to closing time when we got the exciting news. A tracker came and whispered to the guide, who passed along the magic word ‘lion’. We took our place in a line of jeeps and waited in reverential silence as if in church. At last it was our turn to enter the sanctum and we moved down a track deep into the jungle. There, under the shade of a tree, we came upon them, two lionesses and five cubs, feasting on a nilgai. A thrilling sight but a poor photo-op, for the evening sun cast too many shadows and the lionesses were sitting low in the long grass, while bits and pieces of cub flashed in and out of the frame three-quarters two pointy ears, half a puckered face, a raised paw, a tail tip.

Later we encountered two angry lionesses rearing up on their hind legs, clawing and snarling at each other. Photo-op? Alas no! They were so enraged that our jeep had to keep a safe distance.

Back at the resort, everyone was envious. Some unfortunates had spent a packet on as many as three safaris, and seen only monkey, deer, and, of course, ‘budd’. Tourists often think that a lion sighting is guaranteed and, when disappointed, are vocal in their displeasure. A manager was once rudely roused from his slumbers by angry guests who had been out in vain since 5 a.m. They staged a gherao and shouted slogans, ‘Paisa vasool, paisa vasool’, demanding their money back.

The kings of the forest are as lazy as feudal monarchs. The male has only to guard his territory and propagate, which he does with maniacal zest. Everything else is left to the lioness. She must hunt for prey, feed and train her cubs and protect them from predators, including other lions. An adult male is the lord of his territory and eliminates all future rivals including his progeny, knowing that otherwise they will kill him when in their prime. The ‘sons’ in a pride are therefore highly prized, pampered and protected, both by their mothers and the Forest Officers. Patriarchy is as invidious in the jungle as outside it.

Lions are far more human-friendly than leopards or tigers, but only as long as one keeps within limits. In earlier days, the ‘pagis’ or traditional trackers, ever eager to display their affinity with the animal to visiting dignitaries, would place a handkerchief on the mane of a sleeping lion with the help of a stick, while another would retrieve it. However, one day, legend has it that the lion suddenly woke up, and both entertainment and entertainer came to a gory end.

Then there was the biker on his way to a local temple. Seeing a gorgeously maned specimen sitting quietly by the roadside, he whipped out his phone-camera and edged closer and closer until the lion took umbrage, and with a mighty swipe of its paw dispatched the foolish young man to the other world. In the jungle this lordly animal is king, and mere humans who disrespect his royal status pay a heavy price.

Pongal at Goa - the Mahadev temple at Tamdi Surla

The river that flows by the side

At the edge of the Tamdi Surla sanctuary is the 12th century Mahadev temple.  This was where we came on our first evening at Goa, and subsequently another day too.

The first evening, we skirted the temple and did some birding in the forests around.  On the second visit, we visted the temple and trekked up to the upper parts of the river, in search of butterflies!

As I read the blue ASI board below, I once again realised how poor my history is!  So who were these Kadamba kings who supposedly built this temple that survived the Goa inquisition by virtue of being tucked away in this little wooded corner of Goa?

I was intrigued to learn on my return that they were the first rulers to use Kannada as an official language for administration!  The rulers before them, in Karnataka, were all from elsewhere it seems and so, Sanskrit was the mode of communication thus far.

The temple, viewed from the side.  It is still used for worship, and there is a lingam inside.

I was fascinated at the perfection of the circular pillars

Mayurasharman is believed to be the founder of this dynasty, earning his spurs by battling the Pallavas, and winning at Srisailam. (I read this in the Wikipedia page.)

They were Hindus to begin with, some later kings moving in to Jainism.

The Kadamba style of architecture is characterised by these temple shikaras, which are rather plain.

The material is basalt.

Amazing work on the ceiling

I particularly liked this bit.  If you click on the picture, you will appreciate it in more detail.  I wonder whether they were painted in the old days.

The view looking into the sanctum, where there is a lingam.  Legend has it that this has always been an abode for a king cobra.  I am glad I didn't know that earlier.  I would not have ventured in! There was a carving of a cobra on one of the panels too.

Beautiful carvings everywhere

The temple is ringed by hills, and there is an air of tranquility in the evenings, as the sun sets.  Supposedly, as the first rays come from the east, over the mountains, they light up the lingam.

Another piece of beautiful carving

The side of the shikara

As we re-crossed the bridge to head back, I was struck by this large fig tree on the banks of the river.  Ficus mysorensis, probably nurturing an entire ecosystem here, as all fig trees do.

Pongal at Point Calimere - of beaches and lighthouses

Continued from Waders, where are thou?

The diversity of the landscape in the Point Calimere area added to our enjoyment. Mudflats, saltpans, beaches, lagoon and the scrub forest. The children in the group enjoyed the beaches the most, I think. It was interesting that even though we live in the coastal city of Chennai, we never tire of the beach. Young teenager Uttara, wrote up a detailed account of our trip, and here is the bit about the beaches.

Uttara's account:
(words in italics are interjections by me!)

....Finally the British lighthouse (the picture on the left, below)  came into clear view. The lighthouse, built in 1890, is not a very tall building. Except for the roof which is red, the whole lighthouse has been painted white. Around it is a wall which has signs like ‘Visitors not allowed’ fitted near the gate. Some distance from the lighthouse is the beach, which was our final destination before returning to the guesthouse.

The British lighhouse, closer to the Pt Cali beach

While nearing the beach, the ponds and water-bodies increased in size and number. Separating the grasslands from the beach was a sort of mound — an area of sand that rose fairly high — covered in thick vegetation consisting of thorny plants and plenty of Prosopis juliflora. But there was a cleared up space so people could go to the beach without getting cut and scratched all over. We spotted the state flower of Tamil Nadu, Gloriosa superba, near the clearing.

Gloriosa superba in bloom

The beach on the other side was very different from the Chennai beach. Firstly, the beach was dotted with a variety of shells, including several kinds that are hard to find in the beaches of Chennai. Secondly, there weren’t any waves crashing onto the beach. Further out at sea, you could see the breakers dashing against an invisible barrier: there was definitely a barrier of sand submerged in the sea somewhere there that was breaking the force of the water. 

Thirdly, there was some kind of sad, worn-down brick structure jutting out of the water in the calm regions that were behind the sand barrier. It was covered in barnacles around the base where it was in constant contact with the sea. It also had a thick layer of bright green moss, so thick and bright that from a distance it looked as though there was grass growing over the structure. Overall it was an unimpressive sight. That said and done, imagine my shock as I learnt that this was the great Chola lighthouse! I had imagined a better preserved structure but it was only later that I read somewhere that the lighthouse was wrecked in the 2004 tsunami. No amount of maintenance could probably fix the damage done. We waded upto the structure. Beneath the water, the structure extended sideways a bit more than expected. 

The remains of the Chola lighthouse

(It appears that the cyclone Thane had further damaged the ruined lighthouse, as we saw this bit on the sands, close to the standing structure.  It was amazing to think that these bricks were from the twelfth/thirteenth century!) 

At the beach, there was a watchtower from which you got an amazing view of the setting sun. From the direction of this spectacle, you could make out another difference between this beach and the one at Chennai — the beach was not facing the east, in fact it wasn’t even entirely facing the south either, but more south than east. On the other end of the beach (opposite the sunset) were bars of sand. Somewhere beyond were the tidal mudflats.

The shadow of the watchtower from where this picture was taken - looking east

Looking north - A sea of green with the Brit lighthouse sen in the distance.

Looking west from the watchtower, the bund of sand that separates the wetlands from the sea?  If you click on the picture, at 2 o'clock, you will see a spire - the new lighthouse at the Kodikarai boat jetty.

The Chola lighthouse ruins - forlorn and a far cry from the action in Ponniyin Selvan

East and zooming in on the tidal pools and the sandbank.

Looking back at the watchtower

Seaweed, washed up

Ravana's meesai, all poky and hostile, foiling attempts to get around to the eastern beach!

Back down, the rest of our time was spent playing in the water and with shells (there's a whole post about shells coming up next) where we collected different shells of different kinds and tried to outdo each other in our quest to find who could collect the most uncommon shells. This part of the trip was really relaxing what with the wind in our faces, the soothing sound of the waves and no birds waiting to be spotted.  (Uttara, there is not a single bird picture in this post!)

We went to the main lighthouse (near the boat jetty) which was a fairly tall building painted in red and white stripes. It is located at a walking distance from both the boat jetty and the guesthouse. This lighthouse has a flash pattern of 1 flash every 10 seconds. Unfortunately, we weren’t allowed inside though the man in the guesthouse said visitors were allowed till 5 o’clock in the evening.


The sun had already set and the light was beginning to fade rapidly when we decide to call it a day and return to the guesthouse.

The new lighthouse, close to the boat jetty

Soon after we returned there was a scheduled power cut and the whole place turned pitch dark. Chandrasekar uncle asked us to bring our binoculars and come outside where he took us on a trip through the stars, showing us a nebula, a red giant and some star clusters. We came outside and there was the sky like a slate of darkness and sprinkled across this vast space were the tiny, twinkling lights that were emitted by the stars. A sight that is no longer seen in cities, the sky was imposing and awe-inspiring and pacifying all at once; the awesome sunset from that evening was no match for a peek into the cosmos. It was, in fact, with groans that I received the return of the power and the lights. Somehow, the sky seemed to lose some of its ‘overwhelmingness.’

So we went back inside, binoculars and all, where everyone was assembled for the day’s usual bird, mammal, reptile, insect, every-other-species-seen-that-day list-making event, where Vikas flourished his pen and waved about his little pad…and then screamed at everyone for not taking his work seriously.

A Kutchi Summer: Day 5- Ashoka's edicts at Junagadh

Continued from the Uperkot fort.
This was one piece of antiquity that I wanted to see. Actually touch. I did. All those years ago, sitting in my history class (almost nodding off) as the teacher droned on (yes she did) about Ashoka, his edicts and his golden rule. And here I was, some three decades on actually seeing it!

After the Uparkot fort, we drove through some regular Indian town lanes and arrived in front of this white building. This would be the foothills of the Girnar mountain, the spot in the old days that pilgrims would have to pass on their way to the temples up in the hill.

Like a well-placed advertising hoarding of today, it must have gained much viewership because of its location!

The new "edict" in stone courtesy ASI gives the details of the antiquity of the rock. I got a few of the ten to stand in the doorway and block out the glare, so that it was readable!

I was seeing stuff from the second century BC, then! It had vanished into obscurity, as Junagadh itself languished. One of the reasons proffered is the flooding by rivers coming down the hills and the damage to the dam across the sudarshana lake. These are mentioned in the inscriptions of Rudraman and C Maurya. The edicts were then "re-discovered" by Lt Col James Tod, in 1822, after the British took over the area. The John Keay book on India quotes Tod as saying about the rock - "converted by the aid of the iron pen...into a book."
I could not be sure which was the earlier brahmi of Ashoka and which was the later script of Skandagupta Maurya from the fourth century AD, and there were no boards or "map" of the stone, to educate us either.

Pali? I think so. Those three dots are a prefix for a proper noun, if I am not mistaken. So, these would be the later inscriptions of Rudraman? describing the state of the riverways, the problems with the dams, etc.

As my son pointed out, as only a teenager can, the ancient stone was in good shape compared to the new boards on the wall. Take a look.
The translation of the Rudraman inscriptions.
Translation of the first to fourth edicts of Ashoka

The first edict (on morality) prohibits the slaughter of animals. Basically the king had become a vegetarian! The second one decrees that medical treatment centres for men and cattle should be set up, as also wells dug and trees planted. (I have to say, this is what I used to write for every king who was "a good king", in my various history exams!!)
Fifth and sixth. Also on morality. It was interesting to read about how the king was to ensure justice for all men, mechanisms for grievance redressals, in the context of the DMK losing elections in TN and Kanimozhi being arrested.
Twelfth and thirteenth. The twelfth talks about sectarian harmony and the thirteenth about the path of non-voilence in the aftermaths of the kalinga war.

Skandagupta Maurya's edict transcription
Is this Brahmi? I think so.
Brahmi again?

I found these two sites:

The Brahmi alphabet

Pali

Is it too much to wish for just a little eye to aesthetics, atmosphere and child-friendly and educative displays from the ASI? These were my thoughts as we moved on from here to the Makbara.