BreatheDreamGo » Rajasthan

Photo of the Week: Jodhpur Blue

Mariellen — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 03:56:45 +0000

The Blue City revealed

I met photographer Jean-Pierre Muller during the Kumbh Mela in India April 2010, and loved his enthusiasm both for India and for photography. This photo is a part of a series, called JODHPUR the Blue, which was shot in the famous Blue City of Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India.

From the series JODHPUR the Blue by photographer Jean-Pierre Muller

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Help the street kids of Delhi — and send me to India

Mariellen — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 15:11:45 +0000

A street corner in Delhi

Donate to Deepalaya / Intrepid Foundation

I have spent more than a year traveling in India, and months living in Delhi. I love India, and I love Delhi. In fact, I think Delhi is one of the most under-rated cities of the world. It has incredible richness of culture, layers of history in the form of monuments, gentle foggy mornings and iridescent pink sunsets, a jungle of greenery, great food, a treasure trove of shopping … and children, living on the streets. You see them at traffic lights, skinny bodies, huge eyes, wearing shabby clothing, sometimes no clothing at all. They turn somersaults, cling to their mothers, sell toys, flowers and magazines. They sleep under bridges, on the railway platforms or in blue-tarp juggis.

The street kids of Delhi always tug at my heart strings, and I sometimes find myself dreaming of finding ways to help them. I dream of giving them proper food, clothing, health care and shelter, and of educating them and giving them a fighting chance to rise above their status and at least earn a living making handicrafts, driving an autorickshaw, selling chai … and who knows what else. There are stories of former street kids who, after earning an education, had successful careers, made money, and seriously challenged the stereotypes.

What would it feel like to know that you helped a child beat the odds? You can help by donating to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation before October 26, 2011.

Boy selling flowers in Pushkar

You can make dreams come true

The other thing I dream about is traveling in India. You can help me achieve both dreams by donating to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation before October 26, 2011. Whoever raises the most money, wins Intrepid’s 15-day Classic Rajasthan trip to India, generously donated by Intrepid Travel. The winner will be announced at the Toronto Travel Massive meetup on October 29, 2011.

If you’ve enjoyed my blog, if you want to help out street kids, if you believe in dreams and dreamers …. whatever your reason, I will be eternally grateful to everyone who gives any amount to Deepalya through the The Intrepid Foundation. You can learn more about Deepalaya below, and donate directly to the Deepalaya project here, on my personal fundraising page.

Deepalaya means “light house”

Rajasthani girl

It is estimated that Delhi alone has over 100,000 street children. Deepalaya started in 1979 to help these children for whom the street is their place of work and home. The sad reality for most of these children is a life of hard labour and work in environments that no child should be exposed to, such as prostitution and drug trafficking.

Deepalaya social workers counsel these children and place them at the Home for Boys in Deepalaya Gram in a village called Gusbethi, 60 kilometres from Delhi. Deepalaya has educated more than 44,000 underprivileged children from the slums of Delhi and rural areas in Haryana. At present the Home for Boys has 52 children staying there. The school in Gusbethi imparts formal schooling to the boys and children from the surrounding villages of Tayru. The school has more than 250 children.

Deepalaya is also involved in a Vocational Centre which provides technical training for the boys and for girls from the surrounding villages of Mewat. They learn skills in tailoring, computer hardware and software, electronics, air conditioning and refrigeration. Construction of a girls’ hostel is nearing completion. The hostel will accommodate 60 girls.

Your support for Deepalaya will help to provide food and board, health care, meaningful education and vocational training, counselling and career guidance, understanding, friendship, warmth and solace for these children.

The Intrepid Foundation

All funds donated to the fundraising project for Deepalaya through The Intrepid Foundation will be matched by The Intrepid Foundation, which also covers all the administrative costs. That means, 200% of the money you donate goes straight to Deepalaya. It’s not only a win-win, it’s a give-give situation. Which has just got to feel good!

DONATE HERE.

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Shahrukh Khan and me

Mariellen — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 13:18:57 +0000

Paheli with Shahrukh Khan and Rani Mukherji

Trying to meet Shahrukh Khan at IIFA

King Khan comes to Toronto

My second night in India ever, back in December 2005, I was struggling with jet lag and trying to sleep, and a big party two doors away from where I was staying in South Delhi was underway and keeping me awake. It was quite an introduction to India: loud music, fireworks, frenetic party sounds, well into the wee hours. I was so excited to finally be in India, following my dreams, and at the start of my six-month “trip of a lifetime,” that I didn’t really care, I took it in stride, but I was very interested to learn from the newspaper the next day that the party was at a Bollywood star’s home, and I will never forget the headline: King Khan in Delhi.

As a writer and trained journalist I was intrigued by the term “King Khan.” Who could he be? I quickly found out that actor Shahrukh Khan (SRK), who hails from Delhi, was one of the biggest stars in Bollywood. I began seeing his picture everywhere, and his charismatic smile was soon beguiling me. But it wasn’t until I saw Paheli, the film he made as a labour of love, with co-star Rani Mukherji and entertaining cameo by Amitabh Bachchan, that I fell for him.

Shahrukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan in Paheli

I loved Paheli, a wonderfully whimsical story about a woman (Rani) in fairytale Rajasthan who marries a rich, money-obsessed man (Shahrukh), only to find that he’s leaving on a two-year business trip the day after the wedding. However, on the journey to bring the bride back to the groom’s village, a “ghost” sees her and falls in love with her. He takes the form of a squirrel, and then a bird, and follows her to a step well.

Later, after the husband leaves, he takes the form of her husband and returns to be with her. She, of course, doesn’t know this man — who transformed into a loving husband is a ghost until he tells her. It’s too late, she’s in love with him.

The movie is filled with delightful moments, absolutely wonderful music and of course gorgeous sets and costumes as it’s set in magical Rajasthan. It is one of my all-time favourite films as it appeals to the child in me who loved the 1,001 Arabian Nights stories and painted huge murals of genies (djinns) and Rajasthan-like palaces all over my bedroom walls as a child. And who believed in magic.

Believing in magic, pursuing dreams

So that was that, and I too fell under Shahrukh’s spell. I felt anyone who could make this movie, and really believe in it the way he did — SRK tried very hard to get it accepted into the best Foreign Language film category for an Oscar at the Academy Awards — must be okay. I came to know that he was a self-made man, a Bollywood outsider who made it to the top on sheer talent and determination; a man devoted to his family; a Muslim who fell in love with a Hindu woman in his hometown, Delhi, and married her despite objection; and a contemporary of my partner’s who lived only two doors away from us when he was in Delhi.

Shahrukh Khan and Rani Mukherji in Paheli

I determined to meet him, if only to tell him that I loved Paheli, and that I felt it should have been accepted into competition and won the Oscar that year. As a society outsider and dreamer myself, I related to his story, and the story in the film. The film seemed to capture my story, of traveling to India, the land of my dreams, to recover from loss (the loss of my parents, and the breakup with my fiance); of finding my muse (India) and finally becoming the writer I always wanted to be; of falling in love with an Indian man, and with India herself; of being redeemed by believing in magic — the power of transformation — and pursuing dreams.

Will I, or won’t I?

In the years since, I have, of course, spent a lot of time in India, and a lot of time in South Delhi, but I have never met SRK. Oh, I have come close a number of times — I heard he was at the neighbourhood club with his kids, taking them swimming, the day before I arrived back in Delhi from one of my journeys. Or I heard from an acquaintance that he had seen him at a dinner a week before, etc., etc.

Moi at the Taj Mahal, 2006

In the meantime, my love affair with India has continued. I have continued to travel in India and write about India and Indian culture; to live with my family in Delhi, where I immerse myself in Indian family life; and continued to try and reconcile these two worlds, and achieve my dreams of becoming a full-time writer — a writer who writes about the beauty of India, the possibility of achieving your dreams and the power of yoga and India’s ancient wisdom traditions to transform.

Before knowing SRK was coming, I arranged to cover the International Indian Film Academy (IIFA) awards as the in-house blogger for the Fairmont Royal York Hotel — the host hotel in my hometown, Toronto. And I have learned, now, that he is coming and I am wondering … will I finally get to meet him? Will I finally get to tell him how much that film means to me? Will my worlds, Toronto and Delhi, finally come together in a moment that bridges the distance between fantasy and reality?

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Bundi Vilas: The perfect haveli hotel

Mariellen — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 09:56:29 +0000

Dining on the rooftop terrace, under the shadow of Garh Palace

I had great expectations for Bundi Vilas. It is the highest rated hotel in Bundi on Trip Advisor, Lonely Planet gives it an excellent write-up and I had met owner JP Sharma in Delhi — and knew him to be an intelligent, professional man with excellent taste and a deep-seated commitment to tourism in Rajasthan. I was not disappointed. From the moment I came out of the twisting narrow alley leading up to the heveli and saw the soaring archway that marks the entrance, I sensed something special. Again, my intuition and India’s magic led me to a very special treasure, the kind of accommodation that is itself a destination.

And, of course, it helps that Bundi Vilas is located deep in the heart of the old city of Bundi — a town filled with fascinating architecture, exquisite art, elaborate stepwells and an ambience that is reminiscent of medieval Europe. You can read about Bundi in my post, Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing.

Traditional haveli brought back to life

Arched entrance to Bundi Vilas

Bundi Vilas is small, only seven rooms, in a rescued haveli. When JP bought the ruined building, his friends and colleagues thought he was crazy. But it appears he knew what he was doing. He restored it, bringing it up to modern standards in places where it matters — lighting, air conditioning and bathrooms — but otherwise decorated it in a tasteful, inspired and authentic Rajasthani haveli style.

But the ingredient that transforms it from a lovely place to stay into a home-away-from-home is the management: Anita, Jaya and Arun Sharma — JP’s mother, younger sister and brother. They are a sweet, refined and caring Brahmin family who originally hail from a nearby village. I felt very cared for while I was there, and spent time with all family members, as you can read in my post Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing.

The perfect writer’s room

I went to temple on Navaratri with Anita and Jaya, and shopping and to see an ancient Shiva temple with Arun. I watched the India Team win the Cricket World Cup with Arun, and ran down to see the Gangor procession with Jaya. I never felt alone in Bundi; onthe contrary, I felt I had met friends.

Jaya and me

Jaya and I decided we felt like sisters – funny because my real sister’s name is Victoria, which is essentially Jayaa in Hindi — and I told her when (if?) she gets married, I will come to her wedding.

The rooms are each unique and as I was the only guest the day I arrived, I had some trouble choosing. One room, the largest made me feel like royalty; but in the end I settled on the princess-in-the-tower room, which seemed to me to be an eminently suitable writer’s room. It had many small windows in three directions, a sturdy desk, and was on the roof, facing the rooftop terrace. A quiet spot, and I did my yoga practise ont he terrace in the morning before breakfast. Quiet, that is, except for the squeal of monkeys.

A word about the monkeys of Bundi. Yes, they are a nuisance, but I never felt in danger, I never felt threatened. At Bundi Vilas they have really though of everything. They even employ a young man with an air rifle to chase them off the roof, because the rooftop terrace is also the open-air restaurant. And it is one of Bundi Vilas’ best features.

Bundi Vilas lies in the shadow of Garh Palace, right up against the mountain the supports it. This is the gothic castle that Rudyard Kipling said was “made by man in uneasy dreams …the work of goblins.” At night, when darkness falls, golden spotlights light up the facade of the Palace, and monkeys clamber across its surface. It is truly macabre, and spooky … and wonderful. I have rarely been anywhere with such ambience!

My writer's room on the roof

They serve delicious food, family style — so you don’t get a choice, but there is enough variety to keep anyone who likes north Indian food happy. As they are Brahmin, the food is completely vegetarian, but they will serve you beer or Indian wine if you so desire. When they realized I actually like spicy food — unlike many foreigners it seems — they spiced up the food for me and it was perfect.

shopping with Arun

I felt so comfortable in my rooftop room. I felt I could write a book there. I pictured myself a kind of modern day Georges Sand, scribbling away with a feather tip pen, inpsired by the ghost of Kipling who spent some time in Bundi.

Bundi Vilas is definitely on my list of favourite places to stay in India.

NOTE: I was hosted by Bundi Vilas for my stay — but only because I pursued this request. I wanted to stay there for the reasons listed above, and the Sharma family’s kind offer to host me in no way influenced my assessment or description.

Bedroom at Bundi Vilas

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Bundi: Exquisite jewel needs polishing

Mariellen — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 11:47:42 +0000

Bundi's "goblin built" Garh Palace

Bundi’s shine is dulled by neglect — but magic is intact

Driving in to Bundi from the train station, through the flat, dusty unpromising outskirts, did nothing to portend charm, beauty or cultural significance. But then the road veered around a mountain and the valley bowl that holds the ancient town appeared. Nawal Sagar, the artificial lake, lay at the centre, dotted with shrines, covered in leaves, and surrounded by crumbling palaces and havelis. On the far side, an improbable gothic palace – made by goblins, according to Rudyard Kipling – hung from the far mountain, providing a dramatic backdrop, and a medieval fort ran across the top. I was instantly fascinated.

We drove right into the heart of the old town, parked, and began walking up a sloping, narrow lane. As the lane twisted and turned, and the walls and protruding, carved balconies of decaying havelis closed in around us, I got the distinct feeling that I had entered into an altered state – suddenly I was in medieval Europe, perhaps walking up a Venetian alley. Finally, the alley led up a ramp to a very, very high arch: the entrance to my hotel, Bundi Vilas. Read about this wonderful place Bundi Vilas: The perfect haveli hotel.

Lane leading up to Bundi Vilas

I was beginning to get a sense of Bundi’s history and allure. And over the next three or four days, as I toured the town and the outlying area, met the people and enjoyed the hospitality of the charming Sharma family – who own and run Bundi Vilas – I developed a deep affection for this small, almost-out-of-way and not-quite-forgotten Rajasthani town.

On my first evening in Bundi, I had dinner on the rooftop terrace of Bundi Vilas, which is right under the shadow of the Garh Palace. This is the building that Kipling described when he said: “It is such a palace that men build for themselves in uneasy dreams; the work of goblins rather than men.” As darkness fell, gold-coloured spotlights lit up the exterior, revealing the shadow-black gangly frames of rhesus monkeys crawling across the macabre facade. It was a gothic and spooky sight – and reminded me of the flying monkeys and the witch’s castle in the Wizard of Oz.

This was the night that the India Team won the Cricket World Cup. I watched with hotel manager Arun Sharma, and some employees, in the lobby, and we all danced and cheered when M.S. Dhoni hit the sixer to win the game. We went up on the rooftop and watched as Bundi celebrated – people lit fireworks and a din and roar was heard coming from the direction of the market. And we knew people all across India were similarly celebrating. One billion hearts beat as one that night. What fun.

One of many courtyards, Bundi's Garh Palace

The next morning, the first order of business was seeing the Garh Palace and the Taragarh Fort, and the Sharmas had arranged for me the best guide in Bundi. Billoo Guide is all business. I have rarely seen a more professional and enthusiastic guide in India. He trotted ahead of me, arranging everything, unreeling the same spiel he has used for 20 or more years – and yet, I felt he was genuine, and I grew very fond of him. He made the experience special – which, actually, would not be difficult because I was really impressed with the Palace. The building itself is interesting -– it was built in three parts, over a span of hundreds of years, and is a rare example of almost pure Rajput architecture. But what’s really thrilling is the art. The Palace is filled with exquisite wall paintings. I may do an entire blog post about this Palace; it deserves it. It also deserves better care. But more about that contentious issue later!

Another Wizard of Oz moment came when Billoo led me up a staircase with a metal trapdoor at the top (he called it the VIP entrance), to Chitrashala. He opened it and I beheld a lush, bright green garden, dotted with tropical blooms in red, pink, fuchsia. It was a gorgeous site after several hours of touring dry, dusty, stone rooms.

Chitrasala, Garh Palace, Bundi

And at the back of the garden was the piece de resistance: a large, airy room filled with paintings of Maharajas, Maharanis and other royals rollicking in this very garden. This is the magic I come to India for!

Chitrasala painting of garden, Garh Palace, Bundi

In the afternoon, I walked around Nawal Sagar, the artificial lake, and was so disappointed to find, up close, that it is muddy and smelly, and the lakeside Moti Mahal going to rack and ruin. I love Bundi, it is a special place, but it’s heart-breaking to see so many treasures so badly neglected.

That night was the start of Navratri, and I went with Mrs. Anita Sharma and her feisty and fun 20-something daughter, Jaya, to a very old Durga temple, out of town, in the countryside. It was dusk when we arrived and it was a very atmospheric place. The temple was obviously in long use, was covered with the grime of ages, and seemed to be growing organically from the ground. I was, of course, an object of fascination – while I was fascinated with the ancient pooja. We got there right at the right time: we stood in the dark centre of the temple enclosure while all the men started clanging bells and making a lot of noise, and the pandit came out from the inner sanctum and blessed us all with fire and prasad. Wow, it was another stepping-back-in-time moment; a moment that evoked the ancient mysteries, powerful beliefs and lurid rituals of Hinduism.

Sukh Mahal and temple on Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

On my second day in Bundi, I met Billoo in the morning and we walked through the old town, through the market, to the bicycle rental. After choosing two of the better bikes (they all looked like they’d been around since the dawn of independence), we started cycling out of town to Jait Sagar Lake and the Sukh Mahal, otherwise known as “Kipling Palace” – the former Maharaja’s hunting lodge, on the edge of the lake, that played host to Rudyard Kipling for a few days in the 1880s. It is said he wrote part of Kim here. And as Kim is my all-time favourite book, cycling out to the “Kipling Palace” was a kind of pilgrimage for me. It was also the day my disorientation and re-entry ended, and I reconnected to the India I love.

Cycling in rural India

If you haven’t experienced it, how can I tell you what it’s like to cycle out of the charmingly dilapidated town of Bundi into the countryside, past the busy commercial fringes of town where tradesmen are engaged in an array of road-side activities, past temples of every size emitting joyous devotional music and the evocative scent of incense, past old women sitting in the dust pounding rocks, past chai stalls shaded by abundant banyan trees, past men in colourful turbans sipping chai and women in neon-bright saris balancing large brass water jugs on their heads and walking with a sensual rhythm?

How can I tell you about the decaying beauty of Rajput architecture dotting the arid landscape and the undulating Aravalli hills? Or about the freshness of Jait Sagar Lake, partially grown over with bright green lotus pads, in readiness for the gorgeous blossoms? How can I express how refreshing I find these scenes, the people, this culture?

Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

All the health spas and medicines and treatments and luxuries in the world could not give me what a morning’s cycle, with my guide, Billoo, gave me: The beauty, friendliness, cultural richness and sunny skies of Bundi revived me after a long, hard year of work and a cold Canadian winter. Being in Bundi refreshed my spirit and re-sparked my imagination – and the spark rekindled my deep love for India.

I loved “Kipling Palace.” I sat meditating for some time in his room (though I know this could be a fiction), and I loved cycling around the lake, imagining it covered in lotus blossoms (they bloom in late April). On the road, we met Rajinder Singh, the nephew to J. Singh, who manages the properties for the Maharaja and I asked for an interview. On the way back, we stopped at the vegetable market and the Rani ki Baoli – the number one stepwell in Asia, according to Billoo. It was indeed a marvel – and I was olstered to see the archaeological society actually working on it, to repair and restore it (I hope).

Sari loom, Bundi

My second-to-last day in Bundi I went shopping with Arun in the morning. Though he was busy with his management duties, he took time out to show me the best shops, selling genuine and good quality merchandise. I had the most fun with the very modest and gentle artist, Soni Gopal, Bundi’s number one painter. Bundi has a unique painting style that features lots of blues and green and nature motifs. I bought four paintings, as many as I could afford. I know a good deal when I see one! I also bought handmade bangles, studded with rhinestones – a specialty of Bundi – and a Kota Doria sari, handmade on a loom right there, in the store, by the man I bought it from. I fell for the delicates shades of green and turquoise that shimmer in the light. None of these things were particularly pricey. In Jaipur or Delhi, they would have been four times the price. Another reason to love Bundi. I had a great time with Arun, who walked me through side streets that normally tourists never see. And another great thing about Bundi: no one pesters you, no one tries to get you to buy anything, children don’t follow you saying “school pen,” men don’t plead “just see my shop, madam.” It is very liberating to just walk the streets almost anonymously.

Soni Gopal, Bundi

Though Bundi is a modest town – not an architectural wonder like Jodhpur, Jaipur, Jaisalmer or Udaipur – it is nonetheless filled with small, exquisite buildings, many of them private homes, that have seen better days. Everywhere you look, in the old city, you see intricately carved balconies or painted facades or other charming features. There are also more than 50 stepwells, many of the quite impressive, and an uncountable number of temples. Someone told me Bundi was like a small version of Kashi (Varanasi).

My last day in Bundi was to start with a program arranged by Rajinder and J. Singh. I had met with them the day before and talked to them about Bundi. They manage the lake, the palaces and the fort for the present-day Maharaja. Many of the treasures of Bundi are privately owned so the government cannot simply undertake to restore them, even with a will. I tried to diplomatically tell them that I thought Bundi was very special, but would be even better if restored. The Singhs offered to show me some of the other treasures, usually unseen by tourists, but they had to cancel at the last minute due to some emergency. Somehow, I was not surprised. Their hearts didn’t seem to be in showing foreign travel writers around. I found them to be cordial, but reserved and inscrutable. The situation in Bundi is quite complex as the former Maharaja died in January 2010 and there is a dispute over the will and the priceless properties he owned. So, I guess everything is in a kind of “lock-down” until the dispute is settled. I just hope nothing is ruined, spoiled or lost until then.

Kshar Bagh on Jait Sagar Lake, Bundi

So, I hired an auto to take me to the Kshar Bagh, the cenotaph garden on the edge of Jait Sagar Lake (which was closed the day I cycled past it). Another evocative place! I sat and meditated – while keeping an eye out for monkeys and snakes – and could barely believe I was in such a scene. It really was something out of Kipling or Merchant and Ivory! Elegant old, crumbling tombs, overgrown with vines, on the edge of the lake, with the rolling Aravalli Hills in the background, and a complete sense of peace, otherworldliness and the dull patina of a glorious former age. Very much an “it and I have decayed together” scene.

Finally, on my last evening, Arun took me out of town to a very, very old Shiva temple. It’s really just a cave, with a concrete bunker built around it to protect it from rock fall. You have to walk a long way up a gully to get there, which would be beautiful in monsoon, as it is beside a waterfall and pool. Inside the cave I got a feeling of intense energy; very hard to describe, but unmistakable. Dark, powerful, mysterious. Coming out with prasad in my hand, a big, tall langur – the gentle grey monkeys with the black faces – put his hand lightly on my arm. It was a not-unpleasant, very novel feeling – to have a monkey in the wild gently place his hand on your arm. I immediately threw my prasad on the floor for him to eat.

Gangor Festival, Bundi

That night, as we were eating dinner on the rooftop of Bundi Vilas, the Gangor festival (part of Navratri) procession passed by the lane to the hotel and Jaya and went running out to see it. It was a joyous, wonderful, colourful way to end my four days in Bundi. All the women in town get dressed up in their finery and parade various murtis (statues) through town to the raucous sounds of a live band.

I left Bundi feeling intensely satisfied – with the town, with my experiences, with meeting the Sharma family and with staying at Bundi Vilas. I took the night train to Delhi – and slept soundly the entire way!

Nawal Sagar, Bundi

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Looking for India’s tigers in Ranthambhore

Mariellen — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 13:08:51 +0000

Spotted deer at Ranthambhore National Park and tiger reserve, Rajasthan, India

My first night at The Farm Villa, near Ranthambhore National Park and tiger reserve, I pointed out the constellation Orion to owner-manager Satish Jain. The hunter was highly visible in the night sky over rural India, his belt of stars particularly bright. I told Satish that my father, Douglas, taught me about that constellation and I have associated it with him ever since — and especially since his death seven years ago.

The next night I walked out onto the rooftop terrace of The Farm Villa and, though the night was clear, Orion was nowhere to be seen. There was a hole in the sky, a hole that mirrors the hole in my heart, where I am missing my father. Likewise, there is a hole in Ranthambhore since the March 1, 2011 death of legendary tiger protector Fateh Singh Rathore. And there is a hole in the effort to save India’s tigers from extinction. Though the 2010 census figures show an increase in the tiger population in India from 1,411 to 1,706 over the past four years, the habitat — and especially the all-important corridors — have decreased significantly. Tigers need a lot of land to hunt, roam, and mate, and without it, it is unlikely they will be able to survive and thrive in India. For an excellent article that captures the complexities and challenges of the situation facing India’s tigers, I recommend reading The failing fight to save India’s tigers by Stephanie Nolen of the Globe and Mail. For the rest of my story about visiting Ranthambhore, read on.

Ranthambhore National Park and tiger reserve, Rajasthan, India

I had longed to go to Ranthambhore park for many years — to meet Fateh Singh Rathore and, of course, spot a tiger in the wild. I finally went at the end of March 2011, just a few weeks after Mr. Rathore’s death. It is impossible to over-estimate what this man has done for Ranthambhore, for the Indian tiger and for all the other species of flora and fauna, as well as the human community, in and around Ranthambhore in southern Rajasthan.

The desk of Fateh Singh Rathore, Tiger Watch Office

Mr. Rathore’s presence is palpable at the Tiger Watch office, an organization he founded and housed at the back of his home in Sawai Madhopur. His photograph is propped up on his chair and his desk undisturbed since his March 1 death from lung cancer. I met Dr. Dharmendra Khandal, a conservation biologist and passionate champion for the ecological diversity of Ranthambhore, at Tiger Watch, and he showed me a slide show, called A vision of greater Ranthambhore, about the organization’s efforts to stop poaching, rehabilitate poachers and their familes and offer a strategy for tiger conservation.

Dr. Dharmendra Khandal, Tiger Watch

Dr. Khandal believes that all the species, as well as the landscape, in Ranthambhore need protecting, not just tigers; and he argues for the creation and maintenance of corridors, especially along rivers. Click the link to learn more about Tiger Watch and to donate to this worthwhile cause.

I asked Dr. Khandal about tiger tourism. “I’m pro tourism,” he said. “Tourism supports the local economy and it helped create a lobby for tigers. It’s only a menace if badly managed.” But he admit, there has been no study to date on the effect of tourism on tigers.

In Ranthambhore, there are for more beds for tourists in the many hotels and resorts in the area than there are seats available in the gypsies and canters that enter the park each day in search of tigers. (The number is restricted to manage the impact on the park’s eco systems.) Unfortunately, VIPs are allowed into the park above the maximum allowed.

Usha and Goverdhan Rathore

After meeting Dr. Khandal, I had the pleasure of meeting Goverdhan Rathore, the son of Fateh Singh Rathore. I was delighted to meet him, and traveled with him to Khem Villas, the beautiful property he and his wife Usha own and manage.”It’s impossible to fill his shoes,” Goverdhan said about his legendary father. He spoke about his father with immense reverence, and sadness, in his voice.

Goverdhan and Usha were charming hosts, and showed me around the eco-friendly property and treated me to lunch in the open-air dining room. Khem Villas is a pitch-perfect “luxury jungle camp.” Spread over 20 acres, and located near the park, the camp features a choice of rooms, villas and luxury tent accommodation. Everything about Khem Villas is lovely, from the room decor, to the spa design; from the lotus pond to the private, outdoor soaking tubs. But the great selling point, aside from the charm of the owners, is the hotel’s location on the edge of the park. Water holes on the property attract many species, including the big cats, and walking trails allow for intimate interaction with the landscape (you are not allowed to walk inside Ranthambhore, except to the fort).

The spa at Khem Villas

After my lunch at Khem Villas, I ventured into the park for the first time, but just to go to the crumbling and evocative fort. Ranthambhore Fort is one of those many, many impossibly romantic places in India. Founded in the 10th century and seething with history, the fort is a photographic aphrodisiac, plus it affords panoramic views of the national park and houses several temples, including an important Ganesh temple.

Ranthambhore Fort

I finsihed my first full day in Ranthambhore with an obligatory stop at the Forest Office, where I was hoping to catch up with one Mr. Gupta and book my tiger safari in a gypsy (the smaller of two vehicles available). After a typically prolonged Indian scene, whereby several people looked at my credentials and I had to wait, inexplicably, I was told Mr Gupta was not available and I would have to call him that evening. Finally, with Satish Jain’s help, my booking was done and I was all set to go on my first tiger safari the next morning at 6 a.m.

The morning dawned clear and cool, and I woke up as excited as a child going to a birthday party! To defray costs, I shared my gypsy with a family of four from Chennai; and Satish came along with us. He is now the owner and manager of The Farm Villa, but previously he was a Ranthambhore guide for 15 years, so we were really lucky to have him along. Satish and I sat in the back of the open-air 4WD vehicle, and I got my Nikon D80 ready. At the park entrance, we were allotted our zone — one of five in the park — and off we went.

Moi with "weapon" in hand -- Nikon D80

The park is open from 6 to 9:30 am, so we had only a couple of hours to track our “prey.” We drove throughout our zone, often coming across other gypsies or canters — the ungainly, 20-seat vehicles that reminded me of motorized hippoes. I can’t believe canters are good for the park. They were obviously created to maximize profit, not experience or forest preservation. We kept following clues, and tips from other guides, and came across many beautiful scenes of dry, deciduous forest, and the sight of spotted deer and sambar grazing, kingfisher birds darting and graceful white egrets soaring over a small lake, monkeys chattering in the trees and — the highlight for me — an enormous crocodile stretched out along the bank of a lake.

It was a wonderful morning, and though we didn’t see a tiger, I was not disappointed. I enjoyed the entire experience and felt captivated by the search for tiger. It has only bolstered my desire to visit some of India’s other tiger reserves — such as Kanha, Bandhavgarh and Corbett — and to continue to admire this magnificent creature and support efforts to protect it, and the landscape it inhabits.

Spot the croc

NOTE: The tiger in India incites both admiration and respect, and also fear, loathing and greed. On the one hand, it is idolized, and on the other, poached, hunted and not as well protected as its dire predicament would suggest is prudent. Below is some copy I lifted to give you a sense of the tiger’s position in India:

Shera was chosen as the official mascot of the 19th Commonwealth Games in Delhi. Shera is a Royal Bengal Tiger, and as the true representative of India, Shera embodies values that the nation is proud of: majesty, courage, power and grace. He is also a reminder of the fragile environment he lives in.

The Royal Bengal Tiger is the national animal of India. It is also an endangered species because of its vulnerability to habitat loss, poaching and environmental degradation.

Langurs, the black-faced monkeys, abound in Ranthambhore

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Photo of the week: Jaisalmer

Mariellen — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 15:28:58 +0000

Jaisalmer by Andrew Adams

Enchanting Jaisalmer by Andrew Adams

This sublime photo by Canadian photographer Andrew Adams is of Jaisalmer, Rajasthan — a former trading outpost in the Thar Desert now known chiefly for tourism and camel safaris. This photo is of Gadi Sagar, the lovely water tank that was once the main water supply for Jaisalmer. Water in the desert takes on a mythical stature, especially in rain-starved western Rajasthan.

Jaisalmer is one of my favourite places in India. The fairy-tale fort in the centre of town rises like a mirage from the baked earth, and the power of the desert can fling open your eyes and your heart. It is a powerfully enchanting place. I have written about Jaisalmer several times. Once, in this post To Jaisalmer, and also in a feature article that is one of the 10 stories presented in my book, which you can read about here in Song of India.

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Top 5 myths about India

Mariellen — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 01:19:10 +0000

snake charmers in Jaipur, India

Myth #1: Traveling in India is dangerous

Before I went to India for the first time, I was warned to my teeth about how dirty and dangerous India is, especially by the doctor at the travel medical clinic. She really tried to put the fear of disease into me, and I went to India the first time loaded with precautionary supplies, pills and additional health insurance. Then I landed in Delhi at the very civilized home of my friend Ajay, who lives with his family in the Delhi equivalent of Forest Hill (one of the most upscale neighbourhoods in Toronto), and they laughed at all my stuff. When I did get sick I went to the local Max Medical Centre and after waiting about 10 or 15 minutes I got to see the British-trained head of internal medicine. The medical centre was spotlessly clean, modern and efficient, better than almost anything I’ve seen in Canada, and the visit cost 500 rupees or about $10.

At this point in my journey, about 10 days in, something began to dawn on me. I realized that many people in Canada, including me, were of the idea that India is a barbaric place. In fact, I found it to be very civilized. I no longer carry all those supplies and pills, I no longer buy extra health insurance. I practice caution, but I don’t assume the worst, I assume the best. And guess what?

This is what I have come to believe through my own experiences and those of many people I know: India will mirror back to you your own attitude, feelings, prejudices, barriers and limitations – and India will evoke your higher self, too. It can be very painful to see how impatient, judgmental, middle-class, naïve and unkind you can be! And very uplifting to discover your compassion, open-mindedness and spiritual awareness.

But I really do believe India knows best. India is like a guru who gives you the experiences you need to move you along your path. I often say that going to India is like that scene in Star Wars when Yoda sends Luke into the cave. Luke asks, “what will I find there?” and Yoda answers, “only what you bring in with you.” So if you are afraid, you will have scary experiences. And if you are open and trusting (within reason), you will find kind, helpful people who can really help smooth over the unavoidable challenges to travel in India.

Myth #2: India is a country

Pushkar, Rajasthan, India

India is often called the subcontinent, and there’s a reason. It is more like a continent or the European Union than a country like Canada, which is fairly homogenous from one end to the other, multiculturalism, natives and Newfies notwithstanding.

In fact, not so long ago – before and even during the Raj, the British colonial period – India was a nation of princely states, not unlike the city states of Italy; and before that, powerful rulers – who often attained that power through conquest and invasion – reigned over vast tracts of the country. The result is that India is an extremely diverse nation. As you travel from one part of the country to another, you meet people with very different linguistic, cultural and even ethnic backgrounds. In the south, the people are descended from the Dravidian culture. In the north, which was subject to many more waves of invaders and conquerors, the people are of Aryan descent. Rajputs from Rajasthan are about as similar to the Christians of Goa as an English peer is to a Greek fisherman.

There are 14 official languages – each state has its own official language – and just about every religion the world has to offer. Four of the world’s great religions were born in India – Hinduism, Buddhism, Sikhism, and Jainism. Today, the vast majority – about 82% – are Hindus, but with a population of 1.2 billion, that still means that the other religions are well represented. Islam, with 12% of the population, has 144 million followers.

So don’t expect the food, language or customs to remain static as you travel. In the north, wheat is commonly eaten as bread (naan, poori, roti, parantha, chapati, etc.); in the south it’s all about rice. In the north many people speak Hindi – but in the south, very few.

Fishermen in Kerala

Myth #3: Yoga is a system of exercises

Yoga was lost in translation. It did not survive the transatlantic voyage. What we have in the west is but a shadow of yoga’s full stature. You are forgiven for not knowing this; I also did not know until I went to India to study yoga.

Shiva, god of yoga, in Rishikesh, India

Yoga is one of the six schools (darshanas) of Hinduism, and one of the four that adhere to the advaita tradition. This is the belief in one truth, one consciousness, and all is god. Beneath the apparent duality of life – which is illusion, maia – all is one. The point of yoga is to still your mind so that you can become aware of this truth, and act accordingly.

If you did not get this idea from going to a yoga studio in a western country, you would not be alone.

In the classical system of yoga, known as Raja Yoga, there are eight limbs. One of them is asana, or the physical practise of postures. The point of the postures is to create and maintain bodily health so that you have the vigour to follow the other seven limbs, such as meditation.

In one of the most important books of yoga, Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, asana is mentioned only three times, while meditation is mentioned many times. Meditation is one of the primary tools for achieving the awareness of truth – thus it is far more “important.”

My teacher in India, Swami Brahmdev, does not teach asana. He answers questions during satsang, chants during evening meditation and founded and runs a beautiful, peaceful, garden-like ashram for people who want to live in a spiritually focused environment. There is an asana teacher at the ashram, but the ashram does not revolve around asana practise. Not at all.

Myth #4: India is poor

Many people in India are materially impoverished compared to middle-class Canadians, but that does not make them poor. I have become very leery of labeling others as poor, disenfranchised and marginalized. I know this is a politically correct thing to do, but it sticks in my craw. Seriously, how dare we? How dare we be so judgmental? And doesn’t that just serve to make so-called “poor, disenfranchised and marginalized” people into victims, further exacerbating any problems they may have? I personally like to believe in my own abilities to survive and overcome, and I resent anyone who tells me I am a disenfranchised woman.

pilgrims watching the sunrise in Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

I have to say my mind was really turned around on this issue by my teacher in India, Swami Brahmdev who said, “Do not judge someone as poor. You do not know how rich a person is inside.” He then went on to tell us about the sweet contentment of the “poor” man who sells vegetables to the ashram and who leads a very simple, but satisfying, life.

In fact, generally speaking, I find the people of India to be on the whole much more content, much warmer and more generous than the materially richer people of the west. I now feel that western spiritual poverty is just as unhealthy and probably a lot more destructive to the planet than material poverty. If everyone on the planet lived that way a middle-class Canadian lived, the world’s resources would be used up by the next Commonwealth Games.

Myth #5: Hinduism is a religion

Krishna at Sivananda Ashram, Kerala, India

Hinduism is the world’s oldest extant religion and has a billion followers, which makes it the world’s third largest religion. But Hinduism is not strictly a religion, as we think of it in the west. It was not founded by one person, it does not have a core doctrine, there is no central authority, it does not require followers to accept any one idea, and no on can agree on when or even where it began.

The origins of Hinduism are lost in time, and are highly disputed. Scholars now believe Hinduism arose as long ago as 10,000 B.C. The earliest of the Hindu scriptures – The Rig Veda – could have been composed before 6,500 B.C. But the word Hinduism itself is not to be found in any of the scriptures. It was named after the people of Sindh, who settled between the rivers Indus and Sindh in what is now Pakistan. The Persians named people of Sindh “Hindus.”

Hinduism is a way of life – known as Dharma, the law that governs action. It is essentially a conglomeration of diverse religious, philosophical, and cultural ideas, beliefs and traditions. “It is characterized by the belief in reincarnation, one absolute being of multiple manifestations, the law of cause and effect, following the path of righteousness, and the desire for liberation from the cycle of births and deaths.” http://hinduism.about.com/od/basics/p/hinduismbasics.htm

The principal deities of Hinduism are Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, sometimes referred to as the Hindu Trinity. Brahma is thought of as the creator, Vishnu as the sustainer of life, and Shiva is associated with dissolution and death. But many Hindus regard their gods and goddesses as manifestations of the Supreme God, Brahman — and there are as many as 30 million manifestations. After a visit to India, Mark Twain wrote: “India has two million gods, and worships them all. In religion all other countries are paupers; India is the only millionaire.”

India’s gifts to the world

Sri Ramakrishna, a 19^th century mystic highly revered in India, captured the spirit of Hinduism by saying, “there can be as many spiritual paths as there are spiritual aspirants and similarly there can be as many gods as there are moods, feelings and emotions within the individual believer.”

me in Kerala

Mythologist Joseph Campbell (who I consider to be one of my most influential teachers), expressed the essential difference between the philosophy of Hinduism and the monotheistic religions when he wrote: “The first principle of Indian thought, therefore, is that the ultimate reality is beyond description. It is something that can be experienced only by bringing the mind to a stop; and once experienced, it cannot be described to anyone in terms of the forms of this world. The truth, the ultimate truth, that is to say, is transcendent. It goes past, transcends, all speech, all images, anything that can possibly be said. … it is not only transcendent, it is also immanent, within all things. Everything in the world, therefore, is to be regarded as its manifestation. There is an important difference here between the Indian and the Western ideas. … Hinduism believes in the omnipresence of the Supreme God in every individual. There is no ‘fall.’ Man is not cut off from the divine. He requires only to bring the spontaneous activity of his mind to a state of stillness and he will experience that divine principle within him.”

Finally, historian Arnold Toynbee wrote my favourite description of Hinduism, which sums up what makes it so attractive to me: “There may or may not be only one single absolute truth and only one single ultimate way of salvation. We do not know. But we do know that there are more approaches to truth than one, and more means of salvation than one. … This is a hard saying for adherents of … Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, but it is a truism for Hindus. The spirit of mutual good-will, esteem, and veritable love … is the traditional spirit of the religions of the Indian family. This is one of India’s gifts to the world.”

sacred cow in Haridwar, India

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Maharajas of India

Mariellen — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 23:20:12 +0000

Mariellen and sati prints, Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur, Rajasthan

If these walls could speak

[NOTE: I originally wrote this for the Art Gallery of Ontario's Art Matters blog for Maharaja: The Splendour of India's Royal Courts, the exhibit that runs from November 20, 2010 to April 3, 2011.]

When I was a child, I was obsessed with the 1,001 Tales of the Arabian Nights. I read every book in the library and painted huge colourful murals on my walls of genies coming out of bottles, turreted palaces and fairy tale forts. Many years later, as an adult, I went to India to recover from loss and depression, stemming largely from the sudden and unexpected death of my Mother.

Imagine my surprise when I went to the Maharaja’s Palace in Mysore, and to the land of Maharajas, Rajasthan – and saw my bedroom walls come to life! I cried many times touring these fantastic palaces as I remembered my Mother and how she had brought me up to believe in magic and the possibilities of life.

India turned out to be the land of my imagination, heart and soul. Traveling in India healed me, and gave me back my enthusiasm for life. And I am especially enthusiastic about Rajasthan.

In Rajasthan, there seems to be no end to the wonders. The golden city of Jaisalmer with its fairy tale fort; the riches of Udaipur and the shimmering lake surrounded by palace hotels; the massive Amber Fort overlooking the pink city of Jaipur.

But one of my favourites is the Mehrangarh Fort in the centre of Jodhpur. I was advised to rent the audio tour and I am so glad I did. The present-day Maharaja’s voice regales you with spell-binding tales as you walk through the huge fort-palace, past magnificently furnished rooms, a somber enclosed courtyard in the women’s quarters and ramparts that soar hundreds of feet above the Blue City.

The most moving stop on the tour was the site of rows of small handprints at the massive exit gates. These are the handprints of the wives of Maharaja Man Singh, who committed sati by throwing themselves on his funeral pyre in 1843. They made these marks on their way out of the fort to a certain death.

Rajasthan is not just about glorious art and architecture. It is also about stories – stories that come alive when you visit the Land of Kings.

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My favourite hotels in India, part one

Mariellen — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 13:21:04 +0000

Rooftop swing chair, Inn Seventh Heaven, Pushkar, Rajasthan, India

My favourite hotels in India

These are my top 5 hotels in India. I have stayed in all of them, and no considerations of sponsorship, price or relationship has influenced my decisions to recommend them. I look for places that combine personality, charm, comfort and integrity. Rooms must be clean, staff must be friendly and the hotels have to offer a little something special — such as extreme helpfulness or impeccable service — to make it on the list. Part two, favourite hotels 6-10, coming soon.

1. The Windamere Hotel, Darjeeling

The Windamere Hotel site. It’s probably the most expensive hotel on the list, and I stayed there as a guest of IndiaTourism, which might cause you to doubt my credibility for recommending it — but I genuinely LOVE this hotel. It’s number one for a reason: it’s my favourite hotel in the world. No, it is not the newest or the sleekest, but the Windamere is a very special place. It’s a near-perfect combination of stunning location, English-cottage-inspired coziness and impeccable service. Originally a home for bachelor tea planters out from England to make their fortune in India in the 19th century, it was turned into a hotel after World War II.

The Windamere Hotel, Darjeeling, West Bengal, India

The title of a book about the Windamere sums it up: Bliss in a swirling haze. The Raj-era hotel’s various buildings wind around the top of Darjeeling’s central peak, Observatory Hill. On clear days, hotel guests are afforded panoramic views of the ramshackle city below, the verdant, rolling tea gardens in the middle distance and the far-off, white-peaked Himalayan mountain range. But on many days, the hotel is socked-in by mist and haze, giving it a romantic, other-world ambiance. There is nothing to do but sink into over-stuffed chintz-covered sofas and take tea in one of the drawing rooms, in front of the fire, or on one of the well-placed terraces. White-gloved waiters to serve four–course meals at three set times per day in the dining room; and friendly, professional staff serve the Windamere’s own blend of Darjeeling tea in the drawing room at four in the afternoon; light coal fires in the heritage rooms at dusk; place hot water bottles in the beds during dinner; and return carefully folded laundry in silk embroidered cases.

Here’s my article, Darjeeling: Steeped in stories, with more pictures of the hotel.

2. Hotel Ganges View, Varanasi

Hotel Ganges View, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India

Hotel Ganges View site. The prices have sky-rocketed and it’s almost impossible to book — it’s always full — but the Hotel Ganges View is a very special place. For one thing, the location is ideal. The hotel is in Assi Ghat, which is the very first (or last) of the many ghats that line the river for a full six kilometres. It is at the edge of the action, close enough to get to, but far enough away from the crowds, the aarti, the cremation ghats and the central bazaar to be relatively peaceful. Varanasi is an intense place, so being able to find some breathing room is essential. The hotel itself is in what appears to be a former mansion. All the guests eat together in the beautifully appointed living / dining room, and the owner — who I never met — is very culturally minded: he often holds music sessions in the hotel. Upstairs, there are a series of terraces with stunning views along the scythe of the ghats and the sunset across the river. I would not want to stay anywhere else in Varanasi, and I was willing to splurge when I was there in 2009 and go well over my budget for my room. I wrote about my room at the Hotel Ganges View on my old blog at Travelblog.org.

3. Casa Cottage, Bangalore

Casa Cottage, Bangalore, Karnataka, India

Casa Cottage site. Jai’adore this cozy cottage in Bangalore! I stayed there as a guest of Benjamine and Bhushan when I was researching my cover story on Bangalore for Discover India magazine (there’s a PDF of this article on my About Mariellen page). This hotel is not on the list because of my complimentary stay: Bangalore is another one of those crazy-busy Indian cities, but then you get into a back lane in an old residential neighbourhood, and behind the gates of Casa Cottage, and aaahhhhh, peace! About 10 or 12 lovely rooms in a charming heritage house sit behind a front lawn and casual open-air cafe. It is honestly like staying with friends. In fact, Benjamine has a way of making friends with just about everyone. She is a very warm, helpful and hard-working woman, originally from France. I wrote about Casa Cottage in my blog A garden oasis in hectic Bangalore.

4. Jas Vilas, Jaipur, Rajasthan

Jas Vilas hotel, Jaipur, India

Jas Vilas site. Jas Vilas is an oasis in Jaipur. A wide expanse of lawn out front, and rooms ranged around a cool blue swimming pool, give the Jas Vilas a feeling of luxury and spaciousness. It manages to find the sweet spot between elegance and comfort, something not easy to do. (It’s the way I try to dress, actually, so I know how hard it is …) Plus, it is owned and operated by a charming couple who know everyone, and everything about Jaipur. It is another one of my splurge places as their prices have gone way up, too. But you could spend an entire day there, and even though it’s a small place, you would not feel the need to leave. I wrote about Jas Vilas, and my first trip to Jaipur, on my old blog on Travel.blog.org

Inn Seventh Heaven courtyard, Pushkar, Rajasthan, India

5. Inn Seventh Heaven, Pushkar, Rajasthan

Inn Seventh Heaven site. Whenever I think of Inn Seventh Heaven, I think of relaxing on the rooftop restaurant, swinging on one of the Rajasthani-style chair swings, staring out at the view of the hills surrounding the small town of Pushkar and enjoying the friendly hospitality and tasty food. I stayed on that rooftop for about 10 days in March 2009, when I was recovering from heart ache, and I grew very attached to the place, and the staff. I am also very fond of the owner Anoop, and his family. It’s another one of those places that passes the I-could-stay-here-all-day-and-not-feel-the-need-to-go-anywhere test. These are my favourite kinds of places: Small and intimate, but interesting and diverse enough to hold your attention. The Inn was a grand haveli in a Pushkar back street until Anoop took it over and made it what it is today. The rooms are in the traditional Rajashtani style, on about four floors, all facing an inner courtyard. On the ground floor is a small boutique, an internet cafe and a lovely fountain that attracts small song birds. On the roof is the Sixth Sense restaurant — the best place to eat and chill out in Pushkar. Service is slow, but who cares? I wrote about Pushkar and Inn Seventh Heaven on my old travel blog at Travelblog.org.

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