We had booked ahead, being mindful of the Holi festival season, and had only been able to secure the 'Maharani's Room' (the room of the Maharaja's wife) at Singhvi
's Haveli. This was apparently the only room left (itchy-chin), and was their top-dog suite. We were rightfully scared about what we would find on inspection... What we did find was a room of true hand painted madness. Someone had really gone to town, and then varnished the lot giving it the yellow tinge of a smokers room. I had to admit that I would have loved the interior in my hippy secondary school days and Wiji thought that he would have taken to it more if he had been stoned...oh no change there then?!
Everything about this room was 'busy'...apart from the Wiji, lol. But we had just done an insane 8 hour high speed car journey.
There were some broken little toy traditional instruments displayed in ironic tableau's (god, I'm rotten!) The tiny stained glass windows were rather lovely though...
On the back wall was a lovely circular balcony (complete with broken chair). This had several charming tiny windows looking out over the rooftops and streets below. The haveli itself had many conical shaped air vents in the walls. These were pigeon sized and acted like loud hailers for the pigeons who sat in them, making the cooing noises of the horny males pigeons, much, much louder to great comedy effect and added a quality soundtrack to our room!
This was one of the views from the tiny shuttered windows, with the fort wall in the distance.
In one corner of the room was a low seating area that we viewed with suspicion and never used. In the foreground was a visitors book that I could not bring myself to look at, but Wiji selected some of the funniest chod to read aloud to me. Thanks love, job well done.
Dismembered Indian style dolly heads on the alcove door that was bolted, but clearly lead directly to the next room.
I was going to use the alcove with the broken chair to write some of the blog while the Wiji was sleeping, but I became engrossed in the family life on the roof below. The little boy was playing with his cat (yes, an actual pet with a collar!) The cat was repeatedly entertained by the water balloon spinning around on the concrete and followed the boy inside and out. The boy's older brother came onto the roof at one point and used a water pistol to drench people anonymously from the roof. (I was impressed). Eventually they both saw me and hid behind the wall...fair enough really. I was mainly envious of their pet cat.
Despite keeping dead still and very quiet, which was difficult on the broken chair, this whole scenario coincided with Wiji waking up and making me admit that I hadn't done a scrap of my homework.
As we were so tired from the high speed car journey we called it a night, closed all the shutters and caught up on some sleep.
The next morning...looking at the view from our balcony of the city inside the fort wall. In times past it was only priests who could paint their homes blue, but now anyone can apparently, so lots of thick paint had been whacked over the beautiful stone masonry. Allegedly the paint also acts as an insect repellent. Oh really? It did have the matt quality of cheap school powder paint, I love the smell of that, but never, ever make people try to paint with it.
Early the next morning Wiji went to the train station, (he is such an early riser these days!) I didn't even wake to read his lovely note and only realised that he had been and gone when he returned with the train tickets and woke me!
After breakfast at Singhvi's we ventured out. It was very dangerous trying to walk on what constituted a pavement (blocks of stone over the sewers), because so many motorbikes were parked hap-hazardly, and many others were using the parking space as part of the road and scooting through the parked jam and pedestrians.
We came across this excellent pickle shop and thought of Ben instantly.
We set off in the direction of the clock tower, the location of the main bazaar in the old city. The most dodgy touts were stationed here, ready and waiting for us (according to our savvy hosts). Naturally we stuck out, and were at the ready for the men who were going to allegedly accost us at every turn and involve us in gem smuggling, but it was all pretty hassle free...
Bona-fide ancient and biblical looking.
There were plenty of women wanting to sell me a sari...
The glorious Meherangarth Fort.
In a very narrow lane an ox waits as the cart is loaded up.
Nice looking light, shade and colour, but on closer inspection it stank of piss. Several men from the stall by the side of the alleyway got up to see what I was taking a photo of. I think that they could tell that I regretted it!
Further from the manic bustle of the clock tower area there were storage areas of goods and a much quieter scene...
In front of the old haveli's were stalls. This one selling grains and dried pulses in metal tins.
Hessian sacks waiting for their next recycled mission.
Off the beaten track the streets in old Jodhpur were much quieter...
I was thrilled to see this man starting the process of block printing onto cotton. He was more than happy for me to take a few pics and for us to watch him work for a while...
His store and workshop was one room that opened fully on one side to the road, (all premises seemed to be like this). His tray of ink was on his right side and opposite two small boys, who were maybe his children, watched us, watching him. He was at the first stage of printing this fabric with carved wooden blocks.
A display of some of his smaller wooden stamps and inks.
Enthused we thanked him and carried on our way.
Promises, promises! what, really? 'No commotion'...We didn't believe it!
Heavenly haveli's were everywhere and dripped with ornate carvings.
In another open store we saw a man rolling lac (tree gum), that is used to make traditional bangles for girls and women. He too was very welcoming, and let us watch the process. It reminded me of Fimo.
Here soft lac gum is positioned in coloured strips then warmed over charcoal to soften it before being rolled together on the metal plate opposite the charcoal.
The lac is mounted on a wooden handle and held in his left hand. A piece of wood is used to apply even pressure to the lac on the hot plate with his right hand...
He rolls out the lac and the spirals of colour become thinner. In his store behind him are boxes of bracelets. He uses one of these to check the size of my wrist, then he measures it by eye...
Cutting of a length with scissors and then pressing the ends together with his fingers. He placed the bracelet over a tapered rolling pin to size it. He then dipped the bracelet in cold water and gave it to me to try on. It was perfect! He charged us 20 Rupees, which was just under 30 pence. It was super interesting to watch and kind of him to be so accommodating. We really thanked him.
Brahmin blue laneways.
Wiji particularly loved the fine jalis on this haveli.
This lane shows how crammed together the buildings are, but surprisingly doesn't have a massive, honking traffic jam in it!
A street shrine.
A familiar sight, a young man sat on the street in front of a boiling hot vat of oil frying samosas and the like. Wiji could not resist, but I could. I just can't deal with all the caked on filth. Wiji claimed that as it was fried to buggery and piping hot he'd be ok... and yep 20 mins later I was glad to see that he still was.
Printed sari fabric hung out to dry over the shop...
Opposite the sari shop a man was rolling cones of temple incense on a wall and having an argument with a women customer.
A very tidy corner.
Electric terminals, boxes, whatever. Many were privately wired up all over the place for free leccy, cutting up the sky above us in a tangle of electrified wires.
Oh doogie, you seemed to have taken on all the hue's around you, in this strangely angelic manner. We saw him in the same spot several times, each time asleep. I checked that he was breathing. He was. (note to self: OCD checking that dogs are breathing is becoming out of control). He looked so beautiful in his aesthetically pleasing dirtiness, and in sleep, totally released from doogie doom.
A sewer-edged street.
Hole in the wall, quite literally.
A spajjer was checking all the holes in the vent, most of which had been plugged with plastic bags. Apparently spajjers mate up to 120 times a day, so we didn't feel too sorry for this one!
Sighvi's Haveli, our oasis of relative calm, when we weren't being given the chat by the brothers who owned it.
The tiny cupboard room on the ground floor that was actually very pleasant and very cheap that we moved to after the Maharani suit!. Wiji locks the door....
Looking cross the balcony of the Haveli restaurant, with the moon on the left and the Maharani suite on the very top floor.
Outside of the old city walls the place was totally raging and hellish, everyday it seemed. On the day that we left Jodhpur we got accidentally caught up in some massive parade due to a roadblock. The parade was probably marking the start of the holi-day (festival of colour). There were processions of trucks filled with men and boys and the streets where lined with men and boys, I got shoved around and groped, which didn't endear the place to me and was a nasty experience, but not at all a surprise given India's blatant male chauvinist society. There was little I could do about it as one of only a handful of women on the street, we got out of there as quickly as possible.
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