Garh Bundi Palace
First trip to India, January 2015
After a leisurely traditional breakfast of tea and biscuits, we went for a walk to the Bundi Palace — the main jewel of this small town. The palace can be seen from afar. After paying for the entrance ticket, we first climbed onto the wall, and then along a steep path paved with stones that had already been smoothed by tourists, we made our way up to the entrance of the palace. The entrance arch is decorated with two beautiful elephants.
Indians’ favorite trick is to sell separate tickets for cameras. Quite often the price of such a ticket is downright shocking, and we never buy one. Even though we always take photos afterward, of course.
At the entrance to the palace, the Indian man checking tickets noticed the camera in my hand and asked me to show a ticket for it. With a very serious look, I said that we wouldn’t be taking photos, while stuffing the camera into my pocket. Judging by his expression, he obviously didn’t believe me, but he didn’t insist that I buy a ticket…
The palace, like all architecture of this kind in India, turned out to be stunning, though in a very neglected state. Unkempt, with piles of rubbish, boarded-up doors, and the stench of pigeon droppings, the palace makes a sad sight at first glance, especially compared with perfectly restored European castles…
But thanks to this very abandonment, the atmosphere in the palace is indescribable, and I really love that…. Even though I understand that this is fraught with consequences for the preservation of architectural monuments, I love abandoned buildings where you have to make your way up dark staircases, peer through the cracks in boarded-up doors, startle at strange rustlings, explore, squeeze through, and fill in with your imagination what is not there….
It’s just a pity that many of the doors had solid locks on them, and there was no way to get in.
It is hard to estimate what part of the palace we saw, but it seems we did not even visit half of what is hidden behind these countless old doors.
An amazing network of passages, corridors, and staircases is intertwined so intricately that you can’t help but wonder how the owner of this splendor never got lost in his palace.
What impressed me most in the palace, of course, were the rooms with walls completely painted from floor to ceiling. The paintings tell the story of the maharaja’s life and that of his wives, of royal ceremonies, elephant processions, dances, wars, and pleasures. It seems that the entire life of this palace is captured in these wall paintings, which are more than 300 years old.
Volchemu really liked the hall with columns, where each column was decorated at the top with elephants.
-Have you ever seen such a large gathering of elephants?
There is also a superb garden in the palace, with a view of the city with its blue houses.
At the palace we met Olga again, whom we had met yesterday on the train. She had already managed to visit Taragarh Fort, which is located right above the palace, on top of the hill. We decided to leave the fort for tomorrow. Olga and I talked for about an hour; she is a very interesting conversationalist and told us about her travels. She surprised me by saying that one of her favorite countries in Asia is Myanmar, that it is very beautiful, inexpensive, and safe there.
On the way out of the palace we stopped by a stone shop. I would question the quality and authenticity of the stones. The little shop turned out to be quite large - there were many pieces of jewelry here, but of very dubious quality. And all the jewelry looked as if it had been lying there for at least a hundred years.
When asked whether a ruby was for sale, the seller nodded and took a piece of paper out of a drawer, in which the so-called rubies were wrapped. The rubies turned out to be a strange pink color (for some reason I thought a ruby should be burgundy, like blood). A small ruby the size of a pea cost around 100 euros… I wonder if they are real?
After the fort we went looking for a hotel, as we decided to stay in Bundi for one more night. We went into a couple of guesthouses, of which there are plenty near the palace. The price for the cheapest room (albeit a very scary one) started at 300 rupees (100 UAH). After our magnificent hotel and room, choosing a room was difficult, although we did take note of a couple of hotels - tomorrow we’ll go somewhere else to move, to a cheaper place.
After that we headed to the bus station to find out how things stood with buses to Jaipur. On the way we had a snack of delicious (as usual) fried pastries. This time the pastries were piping hot (we sat and waited while they were fried).
Indians eat these pastries like this: they break the round pastry in the middle and pour sauce into it. It turns out very tasty - crispy dough on the outside, and filling with sauce on the inside.
Not far from the bus station there was a noticeable bustle — there were many small, similar-looking shops here; mattresses were laid out on the floor, pillows were lying around, and the seller was weighing something that looked like silver jewelry.
We decided that this was where Indians had jewelry made to order. We saw a man assembling an ankle bracelet piece by piece.
After returning home, we went up to the roof of our hotel — there is internet there, and there is also a beautiful view of the palace.
When it got dark, we decided to go eat. By around 9 p.m., the bustle in the town noticeably dies down, many stalls close, the dogs that sleep during the day become active, there are fewer people, and walking past faces is not very comfortable. We quickly walked to the little restaurant we had noticed earlier in the day, but disappointment awaited us there….
First of all, the restaurant was empty, not a single customer. We ordered chapati — our favorite flatbreads — and palak paneer, another of our favorite spinach dishes… We had to wait quite a long time, and then our order was brought….
The palak paneer looked disgusting. Instead of the usual dish we love so much, there was some strange brownish mush on the table, with green spinach leaves… Somehow I forced myself to try it — it was impossible to eat. Overcooked pieces of spinach with water. A girl who had taken the order and apparently cooked the food came over to ask whether we were satisfied with dinner… I said that unfortunately what she had made was impossible to eat. Saying something like that while looking a person in the eye is not easy. And in English it was even harder; all the words flew out of my head, and I tried as best I could to explain to her what I didn’t like about the way she had prepared the palak paneer. I explained that we were not eating this dish for the first time and had come to love it very much, but unfortunately, in her version it was completely inedible. The girl was visibly upset; it was clear that she was hurt. She patiently listened to everything I tried to explain, paying close attention to the feedback. In the end, we paid only for the flatbreads, leaving the almost untouched palak paneer…. The girl promised to do better by tomorrow and invited us to come back tomorrow for palak paneer that we would definitely like, but we are unlikely to dare to stop by this restaurant again….
Wolf, frightened out of his wits, ate all the flatbreads while I was talking to the girl, so he wasn’t hungry. And I had dinner with tea, cookies, and bananas in a homely setting — cheap and cheerful.
