Memories Are Made Of These

Orchha, Khajurao and Karnavati 

Fagun Mansion is a middle class hotel. I arrive upon this conclusion thanks to the presence of a bucket and a mug in the bathroom. It's not something that you usually see at the kind of hotels that people like us are used to staying at. As we get ready to leave I wander around the hotel and notice two wall paintings – they are Hindu symbols and one reads Maanglik and the other reads Satimata. This brings back memories of Aishwarya Rai marrying a tree since she was supposedly Maanglik and of Roop Kanwar. I am disgusted but not surprised. 

The Goddess Of Wealth - All Locked Up 

We depart at 6.15 am and decide we shall go and see what all the fuss is about this Orchha place. Enroute to the fort we espy a good looking temple. The car is parked by the roadside and we walk up a little slope towards the temple. Not as soul is in sight and when we get there we find a board that says it's a Lakshmi temple. It's rather magnificent but there seems to be no real attempt to put it on a tourist map. The slight elevation helps us look down on Orchha and adjacent areas. 

All four of us are struck by how many ancient looking structures seem to dot our vision. There is a road from the Lakshmi temple which seems to lead down to central Orchha. One can hear loudspeaker announcements coming from down below. It's calm and peaceful with not a soul in sight. After pottering around a bit we head back to the car to drive to Orchha fort. Google girl guides us along and we arrive at our destination shortly. I espy a shop selling samosa and needless to say I go and grab a few. They are good – thankfully none of these shops have corrupted their samosas with raisins and cashews. It's just plain old aaloo inside. 

We walk towards the ancient looking structure and encounter the familiar: a hideous tin-shed encampent built inside, which serves as an office for policemen and government officials. Why?? I think to myself. As we enter the main structure it is huge and makes me feel insignificant. The way to the palace is through a foyer which also leads to the Ram temple. The temple is packed with devotees, street urchins, puja items sellers and food shops. The structure that houses the Ram temple seems like a modern one. Since we never go in we are unable to ascertain whether there is an older temple somewhere inside. We walk through the foyer and arrive at a little bridge which connects the temple to the fort – the river that forms a moat is dry and looks rather ugly. It's just 7 am when we finally enter the fort. This means we do not have to pay an admission fee since the office opens only later. 

We walk through the entrance archway and it's a sight to behold. The Gwalior fort seems like an outhouse compared to what seems to be unfolding here. There is a giant courtyard where presumably the light and sound show takes place – the presumption is based on lights and equipment lying around. On all sides of the courtyard are superb buildings that make even a lapsed history enthusiast like me go 'Ah!'. As we cross the foyer in front of us is the Jahangir Palace – it was a palace built to receive Emperor Jahangir when he came a visiting. I am fascinated by this detail. This would imply that the king of the region would have to know at least a couple of years in advance that Jahangir would come a visiting. This leads me to speculate with the others on how long the Mughal retinue would have taken from Agra to Orchha, what would be the size of the contingent and such other insignificant details. 

Baby Grand: Orchha Fort

We continue wandering about the fort. It's endless. There is the baroodkhana, the stables, shrines to religious men, smaller living quarters. A few days would not suffice to see this fort in its totality. Nari is awed by the spectacle. He is like, “Fuck man, Gwalior is nothing! I could spend days over here!” Shobha vows to come back with Parvati, “Paro would love this place.” Debu ensures that we don't get carried away and keeps us moving along. Exiting the fort makes one wonder why it's not better known, better maintained, more accessible? An entire European economy could run on tourism generated from the architectural magnificence of Orchha Fort alone. 

We head for the food stalls on the way out. Debu and I have some more samosas – I think I kult some jalebis as well. Shobha and Nari decide to have puri subzi at Tiwari Mishtan Bhandar or some such typical sounding North Indian name. Shobha being Shobha also goes chats with the owner and samples a couple of the mithais on the house – she does not however sample the badaam peda, which Nari points out seems to be the speciality of the place based on the display afforded to it. 

We leave Orchha but it comes along in the City and much of the conversation is around Orchha and how it could be so much more. It's 8.30 am and Debu is quick to remind us that we have to confirm a hotel in Panna. Noel has recommended Ken's River Lodge as a good option. Unfortunately we have not been able to get in touch with Ken's since the previous night. I am constantly chirping that we should not worry and we will find something. Debu is not willing to have to go on a wild goose chase late in the evening and pushes Shobha and Nari to keep at it. Finally it's Debu who gets through to Ken's and says the booking is done. 

The drive from Orchha to Khajurao is pleasant save for the nasty speed-bumps which Shobha seems to never spot till the last minute and this has Debu shaking his head and intoning, “Careful Shobha!” Shobha grits her teeth, Nari wishes the moment would pass and I cheerfully say that it's alright it's no big deal and in India these things are quite the norm. This will be a recurring theme for the ride. I am not quite sure now if we cross the Chambal ravines now or if we had crossed them the previous day. The ravines do look sinister and Debu muses what a hard life those dacoits must have led. Shobha draws upon her childhood memories and shares with us how twelve families from Bhilai decided to do a road trip across MP. As luck would have it the bus got delayed and they ended up hitting Chambal in the late evening. “My father was so tense till we had crossed the area,” she recalls with a laugh. 

We enter Khajurao around 11-12. We drive past a spanking new airport which seems completely deserted and reach the temple area. Now it's time to hit the temple. Ticket buyer Debu sets off to complete his task while Shobha tries and hunts for an Orange ice-dolly. The shopkeeper has everything but that. Unfortunately Shobha can be as stubborn as a mule and she refuses to buy any other ice-cream much to the disappointment of the shopkeeper. 

Accompanied by a guide we enter the temple – it's a spectacular temple complex, with numerous temples dotting the area. He begins by telling us that it was built by the Chandelas and lost for several hundred years before an Englishman discovered it. He points to a structure and tells us to take note of the architecture, “First dome is in temple style, second dome is Mughal style and third one is pagoda, Buddhist style.” This temple is a more recent addition. The sun is blazing and we want to get on with it but the guide has parroted his lines and won't let us move till he has said it all. Finally we move towards a temple. There are other tourists but not too many. We suppose that smarter tourists come at 7am and finish viewing before the sun gets too bright. 

The temple is pretty as the perfect insta pic – I wanted to write postcard but who remembers such archaic things. I am fascinated by the carvings of a short bald man who is at the top of every pillar and seems like he is holding up the temple. The guide tells me that is Keechak – I have still not googled since to do so would be unfair while still writing from memory. 

Buy One Get One Free!

We move on to the exterior of the temples where the famed Khajurao erotic sculptures are present. When I see them I am disappointed. Years of seeing close-up images in magazines have led me to falsely believe that they would be much larger than what they really are. That said they are carved in great detail and an ode to act of sex – as I write I wonder if it's more appropriate to say 'love making'. The guide gives us his much practiced spiel on how sex is a part of life and in a different era people were more tolerant and it should not be seen as mere tittilation but a celebration of life. Shobha and Debu are busy nodding while Nari and I wander away to inspect the sculptures on our own accord. There are all kinds of depictions. Twosomes, threesomes, oral sex, bestaility, same gender sex, young couples, middle aged couples, royal passions, 69 – and yet there is nothing here that inflames the desires. I suppose had I come in my twenties with a group of male friends we would have tittered and laughed at all the graphic scenery but in my late forties it's just art. 

Shobha, Debu and the guide catch up to us. He points to a woman with a scorpion on her ankles and tells us that the scorpion is a sign of lust in woman. He points out to other carvings with women bearing scorpions on various body parts. Suddenly all those sensual Hindi songs with women talking of being possessed by 'bicchhus' makes sense to me. He points out a threesome where two women and a man are having a go at it and says, “Yeh woh buy one get one free hai!” The expression Shobha's face is priceless as she growls, “Haan haan! Aage badhiye!” He explains bestiality saying that during wars men needed release and it was not unnatural to copulate with a horse. Soon enough it's rather repetitive save for small details that catch the eye every now and again. We enter the sanctum sanctorum and it's a dark and gloomy place. These temples are not living temples so there are no priests and milling crowds of devotees. 

We move out of the big temple towards a smaller one. On the way Shobha notices Dahlias and begins clicking pictures. She wants to send them to her parents who love Dahlias and would grow them back in the day. This leads to a small interlude between Shobha and me on how flower shows were such a big thing back in the day in both the army and colony towns like Bhilai. The sun is now blazing and we are all cooking in it. We move to the next temple and there were more erotic sculptures – I am getting bored now. It is interesting though to see an Indian guide speaking fluent Spanish as he shepherded a group of Spanish speaking tourists through the complex. There are also some magnificent bouganvilla bushes dotting the gardens. I click a pic of Debu and Shobha shouting at them, “Arrey get closer! Give a hug! You are in Khajurao!”

Lovey Dovey!

Shake It Baby Shake it 

Before I forget an aside: The guides make use of a strange but rather useful accessory as they show tourists around. The accessory is a tiny miror which they use to flash upon the higher up sculptures – some of them are 30-40 feet above – as they explain the significance of the sculptures. 

We decide that we have seen enough and thank the guide and set him on his way. We walk out of the temple complex quite pleased with ourselves but rather hot and tired. Not too tired though to sample the wares of the chaat shop which I had seen near where we parked the car. And so I eat – gol guppas, samosa chaat, paapdi chaat and alu tikki chaat. Shobha cannot resist the food even though she clearly thinks the place is rather dubious and so she and Debu join in. Nari wanders about looking for cigarettes and finds none. But he does find a guy selling chillums and buy two small 'choos'. Satiated we head for the car. Now i have a new bhoot upon my head – i want beer. Every few minutes as we drive to Ken's I muse aloud, “I hope they have beer there!” Don't judge me unfairly. It was hot, I had consumed a lot of spicy chaat and beer is just the thing now to make life worth living. 

Ken's is supposed to be by the river but given the river in Orchha we decided to believe it when we saw it. We enter Ken's a couple of hours later and it seems like a nice place. As soon as I see the manager my first question is if they had beer. He assures me they have beer and so I hound the waiter till I get my glass of beer. Debu and Shobha have a glass each as well. It is the perfect setting. The dining area is up amongst the trees and oversees the river – Karnavati is the original name which then became Ken's river. 

Ken Get Enough Of It :-)

We chat as we wait for the food to come. Shobha tells us that Debu and she are building a place in Wayanad and how I could be manager there. I tell her that I will hire Nari as assistant manager and he can do the heavy lifting. The thought of both of us getting any work done at all is enough for Shobha to withdraw her offer. Nari tells us of the best travel book that we have to read – Nari shall give the name of the book in the footnotes in his next piece – about an Englishman who was kicked out of Eton or Harrow and decided to backpack through Europe. The World War began and then the gentleman managed to kidnap a German general and bring him over and took over a tank using his umbrella. Nari is a treasure trove of the unusual and the most eclectic reader I know. I remember once upon visiting his house in Bangalore there were stacks and stacks of books not on bookshelves but on the floor climbing towards the ceiling. Most times when I visit people's houses even if one has not read the books on bookshelves one is familiar with author and titles. Here I was at a complete loss. 

Coming back to Ken's, lunch is served but given my chaat gorging I skip the meal. Nari is delighted to find that chaas is on the offer. Everybody though cribs that the food has too much turmeric. During the course of lunch Nari, Shobha and Debu tell me that we should thank Noel for his wonderful recommendation. I tell them that would only make his big head bigger and instead we should tell him it's terrible and that he should foot the bill. Lunch and beer done we head to our respective cottages. Nari decides to grab a nap without having to suffer my snores while I am delighted to find a kettle and tea bags and sat outside sipping tea. 

There are no loud sounds Just the twittering of birds and rustling of leaves. At about 5.30pm we embark upon the supposed river safari which is more of a serene ride in a rather still lake. Nari is very pleased – he has been dreaming of hanging by a water body and finally it has happened. The river/lake is absolutely placid and none too deep.Like good tourists we ask the boatman if crocodiles were to be found in the river. Like a good guide he says, “Yes. There were a couple sighted here just two days back.” Shobha and Debu begin pointing out the birds – kestrels, drongos, ibis and such others. Nari takes a keen interest in the subject. I am interested but not overtly so. The boatman takes us to a clump of rocks and parks the boat over there. Very thoughtfully he has brought tea and biscuits along. And so we have a delightful tea party on the rocks pottering about and just staring at the world around us. Shobha spots a kingfisher and then we all watch as the kingfisher flits hither thither. As the sun goes down Nari and I smoke a cigarette and then we headback to Ken's. Nari is mindful of being a litterbug and even pockets the cigarette butt to throw in a dustbin at the lodge. 

Nari and I are sitting outside our cottage all set to open the Lagauvlin, when Nari's phone rings and he answers. His face loses colour and he appears horrified as he says, “What do you mean I am defaming you? Why will you break my legs the next time you see me? Do I even know you?” The phone disconnected and Nari said, “Fuck bugger! Some choot is calling and saying all kinds of shit. I don't think I have written anything to offend anyone.” Nari works for TOI so its virtually impossible that he could have written anything that might offend in the least bit. I nod and say, “It's probably that bastard Noel.” Gullible Nari replies, “No it can't be him that's not his number.” I laugh and say, “Probably calling from someone else's phone.” The phone rang again and Nari says, “Who are you? Bastard Noel! What kind of shit is this 'break your legs'? You are bloody choot you know!” 

A visibly relieved Nari puts down the phone and exhales, “Bloody choot! I should have known it's a Sunday. Fucker must be drunk dialling!” By now I am cackling and remind him that the three of the want to thank Noel for Ken's. I call Noel and tell him what a chutiya place Ken's is and how the only whiskey is Officer's Choice and that Nari and Debu are pissed. The doctor being the doctor laughs and says, “Is it? I have never stayed there so how would I now.” Nari takes the phone and curses him some more. Now we are happy. Predictably Noel calls back in five minutes and says he can arrange for some guy to come and give us a bottle of Black Dog. I burst out laughing and tell him that it's we are just fucking with him. 

Broken legs and cheap whiskey behind us we sit down to consume some more of Debu's malt. Shobha and Debu join in and it is a merry evening as we bitch about Noel, bitch about each other and discuss Shobha and Debu's Wayanad house, books, movies and such other small pleasures of life. When we are done with drinking we go for dinner. It is a simple but excellent meal with no excessive use of turmeric. The manager of the property is an Oriya. He has worked at Bandhavgarh, Tadoba and Kanha before arriving at Panna. It is only during the monsoons when the park is shut that he goes back to Orissa. Shobha wants to know which of the parks he likes best. Debu checks on the route to Pench. We tell him that we would like omelette sandwiches for breakfast and some boiled eggs and fruit. He assures us that it will be ready by 6am. Just before we leave the dining area we climb up to the top most section of the dining area which affords a magnificent view of the river down below and the stars up above. We stare into the night before Debu says, "Chalo Shobha, we have to wake up early."

Looking back it was my favourite day of the whole trip – we saw the decaying grandness of Orchha, the magnificently maintained Khajurao and the serenity of Ken's lodge. There was that wonderful chaat and one of the best beers I have ever had. We had not got lost, not driven too much and it was clear now that we were a merry troop rather than four individuals stuck inside the 'mobile home' as Nari calls the road-trip car.