Jaipur and Amber - Courtly Rajasthan

Asia Southern Asia

Colorful reminders of bygone days of glory

The sign at the foot of the Amber fort-palace ramparts, says “Office: Elephant Booking. Amber”. Along with a crowd of slightly nervous, but eager tourists, I buy my ticket, and clamber onto an elephant whose head, trunk and torso is decorated with gaily colored chalk designs.

I hang on to the flimsy howdah railings and hope that my thong-like “chappals ” don’t fall off. We take off, swaying madly, along a narrow winding road, and for part of the way, my feet dangle over a sheer drop of two hundred feet. I am curling my toes, not only because I don’t want to lose my slippers, but also because I’m both exhilarated and terrified. The view (provided I can blank out the precipice looming directly below) is spectacular. The surrounding hills lie against each other like brown camel humps, and a lake in the valley glints in the morning sun.

Our amiable pachyderm raises his trunk in a farewell “ salaam ” as we descend to terra-firma within the Amber fort entrance courtyard. We walk through the formal gardens of the courtyard (once reserved for royalty), and enter the palace pavilions.

Historic Rajputana (Land of Kings) was made up of several clans, the rulers of which claimed descent from the Sun and the Moon. The Rajputs were chivalrous warriors and although the desert kingdoms no longer resound to the clash of swords and battle-cries, the stories and legends still live on in the magnificent palace forts of Rajasthan that rise out of the harsh desert landscape like defiant fists held up against the sky.

Amber, however, was more “palace” than “fort”. It was once owned by the Maharajas of Jaipur, whose ancestors prudently allied themselves with the all powerful Moghuls by giving a Rajput princess in marriage to the Emperor Akbar. Consequently the towering ramparts of Amber have never been bloodied in war. In the flat prosaic light of today, the clink of dancing girls’ anklets, the sound of women’s laughter in the Zenana quarters, and the gurgle of wine being poured into gold and ruby-studded goblets, have vanished. Instead, tourists, ordinary citizens and Amber’s mild-mannered monkeys now roam across the stone-flagged courtyard fronting the majestic white-pillared Hall of Public Audience.

Yet, for all that, Amber still has evocations of those bygone days of glory, when artists dipped their brushes in powdered gem-stones - lapis, jade and carnelian - to create a profusion of vivid flower designs on its walls and master craftsmen painstakingly carved its marble lattice screens. When the terraces were cooled by streams rippling over marble water-courses, and the evening breezes were perfumed with the scent of flowers, creating a haven of tranquility in the arid, blazing heat of Rajasthan’s summer.

If I were to choose the most spectacular pavilion in Amber, it would probably be the “Shish Mahal” (Hall of Mirrors). Every centimeter of the ceilings and walls is covered in tiny shards of inlaid mirror designs. When oil lamps were lit at dusk, the Shish Mahal glittered with pin-points of light, each reflecting off the other like an explosion of stars, reminiscent of the night sky in the deserts of Rajasthan.

I join the group on a tourist bus to nearby Jaipur. The city streets are a kaleidoscope of movement and color and cameras around me click like Geiger-counters. Supercilious camels vie for right of way with horse-drawn tongas , bullock-carts, rickshaws, scooters and cars. Rajasthani women, bedecked with nose-rings and necklaces, wearing mirror-work blouses and skirts, smile as they sway past with earthenware pots balanced on their heads. Men, with enormous yellow or orange turbans and moustaches which erupt off their cheeks, sit in groups smoking hookas or bidis.

Pink is the traditional color of Rajasthani hospitality, and as the evening dusk falls around Jaipur, the buildings within the walled “Pink City” turn to the color of ripe peaches. We pause in front of Jaipur’s most photographed landmark, the “Hava Mahal”, (Palace of the Winds), with its trellised screens and curved balconies. The Hava Mahal is no more than an elaborately carved facade - one which served an important function. It allowed the royal ladies who observed strict purdah to watch ceremonial processions without being exposed to the gaze of outsiders.

Ensconced in my hotel room, I glance out of my window and catch sight of a wild peacock dancing in the shade of a gulmohur tree, fanning his tail and turning from side to side with a slow, courtly grace. Nothing could be a more perfect finale.

Jaipur is conveniently accessible by road and rail from Delhi (approx. 6 hrs) and by air from Delhi and Mumbai, and is serviced by a wide range of hotels.

Author: Margaret Deefholts