Ram Ram drops us as close as he can get to our hotel on the Lal Ghat in Udaipur, and he's gone. We weave through the traffic and find our hotel, which lies right on Lake Pichola. Our view is a refreshing change from the scrubby desert, and as we settle in, the sun turns fiery as it sinks behind the distant hills.
We have more days than we might have chosen in Udaipur, so we're carefree with our time. The Lal Ghat area is clearly the epicenter of the tourist zone, overrun with souvenir shops, hotels and guesthouses, countless ayurvedic massage shops, tailors and street artisans, and the calls to come into shops incessant and insistent as ever. We're better and better at simply walking on, knowing there will be plenty more occasions to chat about where we're from and how long we're in India. Crossing one of the pedestrian bridges nearby, we search out the alleys leading to Hanuman Ghat, where there are some swankier hotels and restaurants, and a good view of the City Palace.
Udaipur is known for its miniature painting, and artists fall from the trees all over town. A young man gets talking to Andres, weaving his fabulous tale of generations of artists, and then takes us to a nearby shop, but Andres edges on and says he'd like to see these artists at work. Really? Yes, really. A moment's thought and a bit of back and forth about how it's a fair walk--no, we're totally on board with walking, more back and forth, and finally he says he will take us on the back of his motorbike. OK? Well, ok then. It's a tight squeeze, and I'm holding on for dear life, but we whiz through the alleyways, back into the Lal Ghat, over another bridge, and into another clearly residential area, and we're there. We're ceremoniously introduced to the brother, Manish, and then to the painter extraordinaire, their father, Jagdish.
A lovely man whose grey mane of hair seems lit up next to his ebony skin, he's sitting quietly on the floor, brush focused on a large scene of a procession in front of the local city palace. Manish speaks very good English and eagerly explains his father's work, the whole process of sketching, color mixing from local stones, and even shows us the gold leaf which is used in some of the finer work. He also shows us the very fine brush-tips--made from the eyelashes of camels--, used for the very finest details. He brings out his various credentials, and photos and letters documenting his invitations to stay in Finland and Germany where he taught with the help of an interpreter, some years ago.
Then we look at some of the work that is for sale, some of which is really striking in its detail. We're particularly taken with what is a classic Indian motif--that of the elephant, the horse and the camel--, which Manish explains represents the ideas of good luck(the elephant), power or strength(the horse), and love(the camel). It's difficult to keep all the information straight, because there is just so much of it, but we listen and say that we are interested in the work, and would like to think about it, and return the next day. He's a little deflated, but says we are welcome whenever we choose to return.
Stopping in at the Edelweiss cafe back in the Lal Ghat area, we run into a British couple that we literally bumped into during our stop at Ranakpur, sit and chat at length and agree to meet for dinner in the evening. A bit of a rest during the warmest part of the day, looking out over the lake from our window, followed by a wander to check out the entrance times and prices at the palace, and a delightful dinner and conversation on a nearby rooftop, and the day comes to a close.
We've done our thinking about the painting, having also stopped in a handful of local art shops, but the quality of Jagdish's work is far superior to anything we've seen--even to our untrained eyes--. The snarled traffic is like something out of a movie,--laughably ridiculous--. It takes the work of several car passengers and random passersby to reorganize and manage the tangled mess, but it all thins out as we cross the bridge to the Ambamata Temple Road and head left and uphill. We arrive at the door to the astonished faces of the family, who can't believe that we've returned and that we've found our way back! We're ushered in with great ceremony, with cups of masala tea and small bottles of water and the warmest of welcomes. We again look over the painting, close the deal, and then Manish offers to have the work framed for a nominal fee, if we can return a final time and he entreats us to please join the whole family for dinner upon our return. We're just bowled over by their genuine hospitality and grace, and agree to return once again the next evening.
The following morning we're off to the City Palace, which our British friends recommend we visit right when it opens. At the juice stand we've adopted and around town, the locals are complaining about the hordes of Gujaratis who are in town and simply taking over the place. It turns out that in the state of Gujarat, Diwali is a longer holiday, and the locals pour into Rajasthan, many coming by car, clogging the roads, partying hard as Gujarat is a "dry state", and from what we've seen the Gujarati tourists truly are everywhere, and especially gathering in crowds in the area outside the main gate to the palace. We had the weird good luck to receive some tickets from a couple of passing French tourists. They asked if we'd already visited the palace, --we hadn't-- so we could have their tickets, which due to the hordes of people, hadn't been torn off, and were thus still valid. Propitious indeed since we were about the first to walk through the main gateway, well ahead of the already gathering hordes.
The palace, which dates from about the year 1600, is another maze of a building, several stories high, with several tree-lined courtyards, some working fountains, galleries of artwork, and lots of mirror and glazed tile work. The palace and museum galleries include some lighter fare including demonstrations of turban making, hookah smoking and classical meditation music. By the time we have wound our way through the palace the queues to enter are already interminable.
By evening we're ready to go back to Mr Jagdish's home and join the family for dinner. The family is in all states of excitement when we arrive, and despite the customary pitfalls of communication, it's clear that they are as thrilled to have us as we are honored to be there. After checking out the painting--now framed--, we take some photos of Mr Jagdish with his work, and of course with us. Manish proceeds to elaborately pack it up for us and payment is settled. Meanwhile preparations for bringing in dinner are underway. In one of the most endearing moments yet, Mr Jagdish pulls aside Andres, whispering whether he would like them to procure a beer for him. They are again amazed when he explains that he really doesn't consume alcohol at all, and make him doubly happy when they bring out a cold can of Coke instead! They seem worried about us sitting on the floor, but we allay their fears, and the food comes in. Rice, dal, and a very nice paneer chile, along with a platter of tomatoes and cucumbers, papadums and chapatis. We expect them to join us, but they insist we eat first. Conversation is really quite wonderful, covering our poor eating manners--countered by their confusion over forks and knives--to how we spend our days when we are home. We share photos of our family, parents, and even answer Manish's query about ways to improve his English. We also meet the rest of the family, Manish's brothers, niece and nephews, and finally also his sister-in-law and smiling mother. They are movingly gracious, and near the end Jagdish insists on actually feeding both Andres and me some of the sweet galub jamun dessert. He sits with his arms draped over Andres' shoulder, sometimes holding his hand, and the impression is of genuine mutual appreciation. Nothing short of humbling. Photos of us with the family at Jagdish's personal request cap the evening, and as we ready to leave, he hugs each of us tightly, wishing us every good fortune in life. Even his wife hugs me several times. We tell him that these are moments we will never forget, and wander back to the main street, turning often to wave one more time, feeling we've been privy to something special.
Our remaining time is spent meandering through the markets, watching the chai makers, laughing with the rickshaw passengers who are working hard to load wares onto the vehicle, wandering the quieter back alleys where a determined little boy, maybe 4, smiles disarmingly and confidently as he heads home all alone in the ghastly traffic, and finally, relaxing with a fresh juice while the world hustles by. From here we'll change things up as we head 2100 km south to Cochi, in Kerala.
Links to the photos of Udaipur:
Around town: https://photos.app.goo.gl/AAcNYsxGEV6LvieW9
The Udaipur Palace: https://photos.app.goo.gl/AAcNYsxGEV6LvieW9
Visit with Jagdish Yadav, painter: https://photos.app.goo.gl/JoFCAdosAP9bT4ZB8
We have more days than we might have chosen in Udaipur, so we're carefree with our time. The Lal Ghat area is clearly the epicenter of the tourist zone, overrun with souvenir shops, hotels and guesthouses, countless ayurvedic massage shops, tailors and street artisans, and the calls to come into shops incessant and insistent as ever. We're better and better at simply walking on, knowing there will be plenty more occasions to chat about where we're from and how long we're in India. Crossing one of the pedestrian bridges nearby, we search out the alleys leading to Hanuman Ghat, where there are some swankier hotels and restaurants, and a good view of the City Palace.
Udaipur is known for its miniature painting, and artists fall from the trees all over town. A young man gets talking to Andres, weaving his fabulous tale of generations of artists, and then takes us to a nearby shop, but Andres edges on and says he'd like to see these artists at work. Really? Yes, really. A moment's thought and a bit of back and forth about how it's a fair walk--no, we're totally on board with walking, more back and forth, and finally he says he will take us on the back of his motorbike. OK? Well, ok then. It's a tight squeeze, and I'm holding on for dear life, but we whiz through the alleyways, back into the Lal Ghat, over another bridge, and into another clearly residential area, and we're there. We're ceremoniously introduced to the brother, Manish, and then to the painter extraordinaire, their father, Jagdish.
A lovely man whose grey mane of hair seems lit up next to his ebony skin, he's sitting quietly on the floor, brush focused on a large scene of a procession in front of the local city palace. Manish speaks very good English and eagerly explains his father's work, the whole process of sketching, color mixing from local stones, and even shows us the gold leaf which is used in some of the finer work. He also shows us the very fine brush-tips--made from the eyelashes of camels--, used for the very finest details. He brings out his various credentials, and photos and letters documenting his invitations to stay in Finland and Germany where he taught with the help of an interpreter, some years ago.
Then we look at some of the work that is for sale, some of which is really striking in its detail. We're particularly taken with what is a classic Indian motif--that of the elephant, the horse and the camel--, which Manish explains represents the ideas of good luck(the elephant), power or strength(the horse), and love(the camel). It's difficult to keep all the information straight, because there is just so much of it, but we listen and say that we are interested in the work, and would like to think about it, and return the next day. He's a little deflated, but says we are welcome whenever we choose to return.
Stopping in at the Edelweiss cafe back in the Lal Ghat area, we run into a British couple that we literally bumped into during our stop at Ranakpur, sit and chat at length and agree to meet for dinner in the evening. A bit of a rest during the warmest part of the day, looking out over the lake from our window, followed by a wander to check out the entrance times and prices at the palace, and a delightful dinner and conversation on a nearby rooftop, and the day comes to a close.
We've done our thinking about the painting, having also stopped in a handful of local art shops, but the quality of Jagdish's work is far superior to anything we've seen--even to our untrained eyes--. The snarled traffic is like something out of a movie,--laughably ridiculous--. It takes the work of several car passengers and random passersby to reorganize and manage the tangled mess, but it all thins out as we cross the bridge to the Ambamata Temple Road and head left and uphill. We arrive at the door to the astonished faces of the family, who can't believe that we've returned and that we've found our way back! We're ushered in with great ceremony, with cups of masala tea and small bottles of water and the warmest of welcomes. We again look over the painting, close the deal, and then Manish offers to have the work framed for a nominal fee, if we can return a final time and he entreats us to please join the whole family for dinner upon our return. We're just bowled over by their genuine hospitality and grace, and agree to return once again the next evening.
The following morning we're off to the City Palace, which our British friends recommend we visit right when it opens. At the juice stand we've adopted and around town, the locals are complaining about the hordes of Gujaratis who are in town and simply taking over the place. It turns out that in the state of Gujarat, Diwali is a longer holiday, and the locals pour into Rajasthan, many coming by car, clogging the roads, partying hard as Gujarat is a "dry state", and from what we've seen the Gujarati tourists truly are everywhere, and especially gathering in crowds in the area outside the main gate to the palace. We had the weird good luck to receive some tickets from a couple of passing French tourists. They asked if we'd already visited the palace, --we hadn't-- so we could have their tickets, which due to the hordes of people, hadn't been torn off, and were thus still valid. Propitious indeed since we were about the first to walk through the main gateway, well ahead of the already gathering hordes.
The palace, which dates from about the year 1600, is another maze of a building, several stories high, with several tree-lined courtyards, some working fountains, galleries of artwork, and lots of mirror and glazed tile work. The palace and museum galleries include some lighter fare including demonstrations of turban making, hookah smoking and classical meditation music. By the time we have wound our way through the palace the queues to enter are already interminable.
By evening we're ready to go back to Mr Jagdish's home and join the family for dinner. The family is in all states of excitement when we arrive, and despite the customary pitfalls of communication, it's clear that they are as thrilled to have us as we are honored to be there. After checking out the painting--now framed--, we take some photos of Mr Jagdish with his work, and of course with us. Manish proceeds to elaborately pack it up for us and payment is settled. Meanwhile preparations for bringing in dinner are underway. In one of the most endearing moments yet, Mr Jagdish pulls aside Andres, whispering whether he would like them to procure a beer for him. They are again amazed when he explains that he really doesn't consume alcohol at all, and make him doubly happy when they bring out a cold can of Coke instead! They seem worried about us sitting on the floor, but we allay their fears, and the food comes in. Rice, dal, and a very nice paneer chile, along with a platter of tomatoes and cucumbers, papadums and chapatis. We expect them to join us, but they insist we eat first. Conversation is really quite wonderful, covering our poor eating manners--countered by their confusion over forks and knives--to how we spend our days when we are home. We share photos of our family, parents, and even answer Manish's query about ways to improve his English. We also meet the rest of the family, Manish's brothers, niece and nephews, and finally also his sister-in-law and smiling mother. They are movingly gracious, and near the end Jagdish insists on actually feeding both Andres and me some of the sweet galub jamun dessert. He sits with his arms draped over Andres' shoulder, sometimes holding his hand, and the impression is of genuine mutual appreciation. Nothing short of humbling. Photos of us with the family at Jagdish's personal request cap the evening, and as we ready to leave, he hugs each of us tightly, wishing us every good fortune in life. Even his wife hugs me several times. We tell him that these are moments we will never forget, and wander back to the main street, turning often to wave one more time, feeling we've been privy to something special.
Our remaining time is spent meandering through the markets, watching the chai makers, laughing with the rickshaw passengers who are working hard to load wares onto the vehicle, wandering the quieter back alleys where a determined little boy, maybe 4, smiles disarmingly and confidently as he heads home all alone in the ghastly traffic, and finally, relaxing with a fresh juice while the world hustles by. From here we'll change things up as we head 2100 km south to Cochi, in Kerala.
Links to the photos of Udaipur:
Around town: https://photos.app.goo.gl/AAcNYsxGEV6LvieW9
The Udaipur Palace: https://photos.app.goo.gl/AAcNYsxGEV6LvieW9
Visit with Jagdish Yadav, painter: https://photos.app.goo.gl/JoFCAdosAP9bT4ZB8
WOW about your visits with Jagdish Yadav and his work! Thanks for allowing me to travel with you vicariously!
ReplyDeleteNote: the "around town" link in this post is pointing to the Udaipur Palace album.
Thanks Lena! I'll fix that soon. Bjs, O.
ReplyDelete