Fear not, intrepid readers, as we have not forgotten you, nor laid our duty derelict. There is to be a new edition for our travels. The pull of a Goan beach proved too much to resist, and, seeing as we had literally thousand of images to edit and catalogue and reduce to a manageable amount for our follow up post, we lagged behind. But give us a break, travelling India is hard work, and requires a sharp and steady mind. We needed a few weeks respite to gather our thoughts and splash in the waves. So please, bear in mind that we have yet another couple months to go, and we hope to give you the best we can see…
Life in India is hard to define. Such a mix of light and dark, despair and joy, hot and cold, and everything in between. The indians have a word, masala. A fitting word, as it implies a mixture. A bit of a mixed bag, and we have found ourselves tossed right in.
After a lengthy train ride across the deserts of Rajasthan, and my need of loperamide immobilizing all bowel activity, Dan and I arrived at our auspicious and welcoming city of Jodhpur. A hasty tuk-tuk ride and we found ourselves in the warm embrace of Durag Niwas, a family run guest house that was to become our de facto home for the following 26 days. The Rathore family there was so welcoming and kind to us, and certainly made living there feel a natural extension of or travels. Bunti, a cousin of the owner, commented that when people arrive from Delhi, they seem so wary and distrusting, and he feels it is his duty to show that this is not the case for him and his family here. Delhi can leave a bad taste in the mouths of new travelers, and at Durag Niwas, they wish to give you a sweeter flavour to the land of India. (As an aside, Dan and I wish to thank from the bottom of our hearts to Mukta and Govind, to their family, and to the boys and staff who were so gracious. We look forward to seeing you again)
Truth be told, it was wonderful to be in a relaxed and caring atmosphere, especially after the stuffy and false generosity of Jaipur. Jodhpur felt more a real place, and a living city that had more to offer us than simply tourist bazaar stalls and rickshaw wallahs. Don’t get me wrong, it has those aplenty, and nary a day went by without us being berated by them, but it was tolerable, even humorous as they got to know us. Dan and her quirky sense of humour made her famous in the circle of tuk-tuks near the guesthouse, where after slapping her thighs when they jumped out at us to offer us a ride, Dan yells “Here’s my tuk-tuk!” Needless to say they found it terribly amusing, and for the next month, every time they saw her, they would all yell “Tuk-tuk” while smacking their legs and laughing. This is the lighter side of India.
When we began to explore out new home, we stumbled into a massive 6 floor building called National Handloom, a sort of mall and grocery store that carried a little bit of everything. It was here we first met what would turn out to be some new friends. A trio of trouble-makers from Halifax, Yorkshire, Zoe, Lee, and Sally were on a round the world trek, backpacking their way across the globe for over two years. 6 months in, they found themselves tired, ripped off, and in dire need of the comforts of biscuits when we found them on the steps of the National Handloom. As it turned out, they too were staying at Durag Niwas, where we all became fast friends.
Speaking of friends, it is really hard for Dan and I not to be friends with the people we come across. With her spunky humour and lack of inhibitions, and me tagging along, laughing and telling stories, we had a great time of it. Spending 26 days in one place, rather than in trains and busses, always on the move, made for a more unique and, in our opinion, rewarding experience here. It felt more like becoming part of a family (even though we were paying guests). There were French and Swedish guests, and Austrians, New Zealanders, and even Swiss born magyars from Hungary, and of course British guests, and Dan and I did our best to get to know all we could. How could we not? We were living there. The day before we came, puppies were born to the family dog, a little dachshund named Chili. The pups were bastards, as they had no clue who the father was, but I suspect it was that jack-ass of a guard dog from up the street who would always, ALWAYS chase after Dan and me, hoping to bite and play. The son of the proprietors, Ayush, constantly referring to the pups as “Chili-babies” could barely keep his hands off the little blighters. They were so cute.
Those little blighters brings to mind something I feel I need to discuss. The treatment of animals in this country is a real enigma. In a culture of vegetarians and pacifists, there is a perpetual violence done on to most animals in the streets, where holy cows mingle in trash, and dogs fare the same as insects of the gutters, and all live in the shadow of fear of an Indian boy wielding a rock to throw. This is definitely a subject I want to explore further, and it was in fact a project I began working on while we wandered through the streets of Jodhpur, as I did my best to document the life of the animals I came across. It just breaks my heart. A month is not enough time for that. That was India at its’ darkest.
How can one describe what was experienced for a month? The lives that intertwined briefly, co-mingled with joy and fear seams to me the mark of a traveller. Individuals who for a time breathed and ate and dreamed in a place are now gone, as we are now gone, and it can be hard to take in. Can you describe life in a month? A passing of sun and moon, food and sleep and walking, walking, walking till our feet ached. Laughter and tales of times past and sipping black rum while the year failed and was born anew amidst the explosions in the sky. As the days blurred, and the need for mundane tasks took hold, we realized that the need to do simple things like laundry added a mix of symmetry and needed blandness into our life. We had relaxed into the masala of India, and it was good. Now we were free to see and feel the soul of a desert city, where one can find the best samosa ever on earth, bar none, and sip upon the divine delights of a Makhani lassi (a curd based confection spiced with saffron, cardamon, and liberally mixed with yoghurt butter and sugar). In the end, there was the pure pleasure of wandering the alleys and paths in this medieval city, despite the gawking, the hassling children pestering us for money and dirty old men thinking devil-knows-what, that kept us going. Each corner had a story to tell, and every shit covered brick had something to say. Be it the wonderfully impressive Mehrangarh Fort to the joy of eating a purely vegetarian McDonald’s Paneer wrap, our month in Jodhpur was indescribably beautiful.
Seeing as this is meant to be first and foremost a photography blog, and, as was pointed out to me by more than a few journalists, namely from Hong Kong and Islamabad, I have chosen to limit the text, and let the pictures speak for themselves. Besides, could your try and write about a month of your lives and keep it to one or two pages of text? I think not, so cut me some slack. I promise to write more on the subject, possibly in subsequent posts, and certainly there is the possibility of a book, but for now, just enjoy the show Dan and I have prepared for you. Now, excuse me, as we have a late night train to catch, and need to be ready for the fun and games of snoring and farting Indian men all through the night on our way to Madurai. Tah tah.
On the eve of a downpour nobody but Dan predicted, she shoots us in the mall after we ate McDonald's veg burgers.
The blasting fire cooks up the best samosas on the face of the planet.
The heat of the day makes for a drowsy nap in the street.
After a night of unexpected and intense rain, we set out to survey the muddy streets.
The old Ambassador cars give a touch of class for the courtyard of Yogi's rooftop cafe.
A nice expression in the evening streets of the Blue City.
The name of Blue City is well deserved. From antiquity, blue indigo paint was used to signify a Brahmin household, as well as to ward off mosquitos.
Chipped blue paint matches the chipped scooter.
Hiding in between the shadows.
Outside Yogi's rooftop cafe. where we had slow service but good views and nice paneer pakoras.
A common scene in the heat of the day, where beasts of burden bed down where may.
A typical moment when I photograph as Scott talks to a man about his goat.
They always give me the nastiest look when I shoot, until I say dhanyavad (thank you in Hindi)
Blue city steps.
A dilapidated temple framed by a ruined and dung-covered wall near the Gulab Sagar.
This crazed and giggling woman just grabbed a handful of cow-shit and started slapping it all over the wall. Scott was more concerned she would slap the shit at us.
A pile of sacks.
A pile of card-playing men.
Once again, I shoot life as Scott makes me wait while he jostles for samosas.
Old men love nothing more than to sit around and gossip. When Scott and I came back this way at night, they were still seated and gossiping.
In the middle of chaos, a dog finds time to yawn.
I have not yet figured it out, but it makes me smile nonetheless.
Moments I capture while waiting for Scott to get his samosa. This time a pushy cow is slapped for cutting in line.
Winding through the narrow alcoves of Jodhpur on a motorcycle are surely one of the many unsung triumphs of the Indian race.
From the eyes of a rickshaw driver.
The sad thing is, this calf is about to get a beating from the lady for trying to steal her bananas. The even sadder thing is the damned rickshaw that pulled up in my way, blocking my view and ruining what would have been an awesome shot.
Random paparazzi shot of a very smiley Rajput father and family.
A holy school, Om, and a curious cow.
She spoke no english, nor I marwari, but i know she was happy to pose, and it really made her day.
Young boys, "One snap," and the look of mischief are an everyday occurrence when wandering the paths of Jodhpur.
Small shops are better than big malls in India. Perhaps north america could take an idea or two?
Through every door, a tuk-tuk awaits.
The famed clock tower of Sadar Market, built during the British Raj.
Jumping over sewage in the streets. (in homage to H.C.B)
Sidewalk sales of salaciously coloured fabrics.
Hustle & Bustle.
Evening settles on Sadar Market in the centre of old Jodhpur.
Moon rises over the twilight stalls of Sadar market as a man peers out from within his wares.
Piles of pots and a basket weaver.
A little frightening as all these men soon jumped up and started smacking each other after trying to keep warm on a frigid night.
A sleeping man shows his skills of balance and apparent deafness as he lies atop a scooter, ignorant of the noise of a rajasthani street.
Sunlight peeks through the corners of a Jodhpur street.
Crossing the Gulab Sagar.
The Gulab Sagar, (Rose Pond) a very old Rajput pond was once a place of serene beauty, but now is choked with filth and garbage of the worse kind.
Reflecting on the Gulab Sagar, and Mehrangarh Fort rises in the distance.
From atop Yogi's, mighty Mehrangarh dominates the view of the old city.
Scooter, car, motorbike and camel. Like all parking lots, drivers are wont to chat on a mobile.
Songbirds circle in squadrons around the fort, fleeing their would be deaths at the talons of hawks in the far reaches of the sky.
A view of the city is broken by the macho stance of the silly indian boys.
Here is the spot where Rao Jodha had a man entombed alive in the walls as a sacrifice.
Women walk down the main gate to Mehrangar, where the doors are large enough to let war-elephants wearing howdahs can pass out.
Impressive still, this is just one of many cannon and mortar that are to be found around this impressive beast of a fort.
Arched and sculpted stone doors in the old fort.
A vignette of the old mortar battlements. I shot it as I snuck out the back window of the gift shop.
Inside Mehrangarh, a man waits.
Massive walls protected this fort, and it was never conquered.
Men always stare at me like I am a ghost. Boo.
From atop the Chamunda Devi temple in the fort, a commanding view.
As the sun fails, it sets the sandstone aflame.
A random stack of chairs on the road leading from Mehrangarh Fort.
A gorgeous end to a day exploring the fort, as the sun sets on the Blue City.
At the foot of mighty Mehrangarh lay this humble shrine, and it was possibly the most beautiful ruin I saw that day.
Mehrangarh Fort from the north approach, after we hiked up through scrub and ruin.
Scott and I had wandered and climbed our way to view the ruined gate of Mehrangarh among the scrubland and feral dogs.
A ruined shrine at the far north side of Mehrangarh fort.
Hundreds of years ago, this was a well for drinking and washing. Now it is a rubbish filled pit with stinking fetid water.
Dense urban construction is typical of most Rajasthani cities.
Roof top living in Jodhpur.
A torrent of rain floods the mud choked streets one winter's eve.
Creepy plush furry friends line the street.
"Chili Babies" as our host's son might say, the last of the wiggly dachshund puppies born as we arrived at Durag Niwas.
One of the most sad and pathetic faces I have come across. Like a roach, base and filthy, living off of garbage and pest, full of worms and ticks this puppy rummages for a meal in the gutter.
As much like the man, this slumdog lays on the refuse of the streets.
As with all indian canines, apprehension and worry are needed when crossing a filthy wet road.
Puppies find warmth on this oddly chilly day in Jodhpur.
Posing bovine models near the Gulab Sagar.
After a surprise rainfall, reflections abound. I like to reflect on reflection.
The funny thing was, both the man and the cow coughed and spat at the same time.
Speed bike and bull.
Believe me when I tell you that this goat was a pain in the ass.
It is a goat. It is wearing a sweater.
Pitiable and filthy, the condition of dogs in India breaks my heart.
Beautiful tombs reflected in the ponds of Mandore Garden.
Children stop and stare at monkeys doing what monkeys do best, monkeying around.
Don't worry, the Langur only pretended to bite us.
What a sad little pansy in Mandore.
There is an uncanny human quality to these lounging langurs.
Luminous study of some distant cousins.
A confused look comes over this Langur. Scott thinks he looks like he read a Dear John letter.
Boredom in the afternoon.
Feeding time means peas and coconut chunks at Mandore Gardens.
Mandore garden is a treasure trove of odd animal friends.
The Umaid Bhawan, the hotel/palace of the Maharaja just beyond desert and scrub.
Scrub and desert bisected by a pipeline as it snakes along.
A view of Jodhpur from atop the path to the Ganesh Temple.
Illuminated halls of the Ganesh temple in Jodhpur.
At the steps of the Ganesh Temple, sparring mongrels battle by the shoes.
Shadows and light frame the caretaker of the Ganesh temple.
Squatter camps along side the street near the Maharaja's Palace.
Scott is always happy to take a ride in an tuk-tuk.
Dan looking like the resolute photographer goddess she is.
The Blue City warmth in late afternoon one January day as the sun sets on Jodhpur.
Hi, Its Dipanshu Mangal From Blue city (JODHPUR). You present my city very beautifully…
Superb work. I am very impressed.
if you will come next time in my city its my pleasure to meet you.
Thank you so much for the comments people. This little sub-continent has so much to see, and I must apologize for Dan and myself, as we cannot hope to capture and show the full breadth of the life here.
Please keep your eyes peeled for the latest update….
Fantastic, you two. I absolutely love the photos of the card-playing men and the gossiping men. also the one of the men next to the fire.
really well done. can’t wait to see and read more.
xx
Amazing! You’ve outdone yourself, these photos are stunning. There are so moments that you’ve captured. I love your blog.
Thanks so much for sharing your India trip. The photos are half-decent anyway. Just kidding—they’re fantastic! It’s great seeing so many photos too because the cumulative effect is very powerful—I feel like I am there myself. As the kids say–”How cool is that?!” Thanks again!
What a revelation. You have taken the most wonderful photographs and put togther a graphic picture of Northern India. Well done. Enjoy the rest of your travels. It was wonderful meeting up with you.
We loved your recent blog and your photos were amazing – very inspiring. I believe that Jodhpur has had a very enlightening and yet, calming effect on your writing. As your journey continues, you now seem to be more absorbed in the lifestyle and have a more in-depth feeling of what India is, rather than looking in (or down as the case may have been) as an outsider. We loved it – keep it up. We can’t wait to read the book you say you are planning on writing. We are looking forward to hearing and seeing more about your travels soon. If you have any, please post pictures of the beaches you mentioned. We would love to see that side of India too.
Amazing, I’m glad it happened to be at the top of my new feed. Several of these photos brought tears to my eyes, including the older woman with the caption “She spoke no english, nor I marwari, but i know she was happy to pose, and it really made her day.”
Yea, bout damn time. I am sure I am not the only one wonder where the heck you guys are.
HOOHOO ! Back online