Only one day after my goodbye to Navyug, I was on a plane,
bound not for America, but for India’s Western state of Gujarat. Hema, an Indian British lawyer with
whom my father had worked in London, had suggested long ago that my father—or
any members of his family—visit her parents in the Kutch area of Gujarat. They had lived in London for many
years, but had retired to their ancestral village in Gujarat. They were hospitable, relaxed, and
loved having visitors. After many
years, I finally accepted this kind invitation.
My plane from Delhi took me first to Mumbai, where I briefly
kicked back in the very luxurious airport (though I skipped the free foot
massage chairs) and then boarded another plane for Bhuj, the capital city of
Kutch. Once in Bhuj I was met by
Hema’s father and sister, and we set off for their home in Madhapar, a small
town just outside of Bhuj.
Right away I noticed how much hotter this area of India was
than Delhi--and Delhi had not been
particularly cool when I left it.
Kutch’s heat was a very intense, very dry heat, largely aided by a
bright sun that felt somehow closer.
Unlike Delhi, where a layer of smog provides some shelter from the sun’s
rays, Kutch is a largely untouched desert, with nothing between the bone-dry
sand and the radiant blue sky.
When we reached Hema’s parents’ house, my hosts commenced
with the wonderful blend of English and Indian hospitality that I would
continue to enjoy throughout the week.
Immediately, I was asked if I would like English tea or Indian chai, and
was soon served a steaming cup of the latter, along with a few digestive
biscuits and a bowl of Indian namkeen (which had, ironically, come from an
Indian grocery store in London).
After I had finished my tea, and the sun had begun to recede to the
West, Hema’s sister, Premila, her aunt Samta took me on a short tour of the
village of Madhapar.
The tour brought us to three of the village’s temples, to
the vegetable market, the tailor’s, and to the doorsteps of a number of the
family’s friends. Right away, my
tourguides informed me that Madhapar can no longer accurately be called a
village. I quickly saw that this
was accurate. While many of the
roads were not paved, they were fairly smooth, and power lines were visible all
over. There were far more cars and
motorcycles than there had been in Utra (Ashley’s husband Gautam’s family’s
village) and there was a grocery store, small restaurants, and even a
bank. A comparatively large
percentage of the population had lived and worked in England. So though the
most common greeting was still “Jai Sai Ram,” which translates to “Hail Lord Ram,” I more than
once was caught offguard by greetings such as “’Ello! You alright?
It’s hot today, innit?”—all spoken in a perfect Londoner accent. Still though, Madhapar was
nowhere close to approaching Delhi’s big city feel, and I enjoyed the chance to
breath clean air and see trees, flowers, and fields. I continued to learn about Madhapar and Kutch as we walked,
and grew more and more excited for the week to come.
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| Colorful carvings above the entrance to the Sita-Ram Temple |
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| Entering the temple |
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| Temple guard |
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| Madhapar street |
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| Buying vegetables |
The next day, after an Indian/English breakfast of chai,
fruit, and Oatabix, I set off with Premila, Samta and Devi for a small crafts
village called Bhujodi, famous for its textiles.
Before coming to Kutch, I did some research on the
area. I discovered that Kutch is
famous not only for its unique geography, which includes desert, salt plains,
and beaches within miles of one another, but also for its handicrafts. Kutch is home to a number of desert
tribes, many of which have their own distinctive craft styles. The breadth and variety of the crafts
of Kutch are really quite astonishing; among the many things Kutch is known for
are textiles (with various weaving, dying, and embroidery styles), mirrorwork,
beads, woodwork, knives, and pottery.
Soon after going to Bhujodi, we went to a small craft’s
park, where I was able to see even more artisans in action. Here I encountered a wider range of
Kutch handicrafts, including mudwork, beads, and knives.
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| Bird house, within the craft park |
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| Beautiful baby clothes, and a traditional mudwork painting of Ganesh |
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| Desert Scene |
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| A small temple within the craft park grounds |
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| From left to right: Devi, Premila, Samta |
Sadly, Premila and Samta left the next day for London via
Ahmedabad. I had only had a little
more than a day with them, but they had made me feel so welcome, and had really
shown me a good time. Fortunately,
there were plenty of other lovely people still in Madhapar.
On the day that Premila and Samta left, I went with Devi and
her daughter in law to the city of Bhuj, where I the first stop was a site
containing two palaces side by side: the Prag Mahal, and the Aina Mahal. Like all of India’s palaces, they
clearly showcased the almost ridiculous opulence of the Maharajas. Unlike many other Maharaja palaces I
had seen, however, they were a little shabby and crumbling. I soon found out that the Kutch area
had suffered a devastating earthquake in January 2001, and was still
recovering. Naturally, in the
aftermath, such things as humanitarian relief took priority over palace
restoration, and rightfully so. I
think my favorite palace by far was the Prag Mahal, which was not only the
dingiest of all, but was also very seriously infested by cockroaches. The ballroom in particular was a
cockroach haven, and I had to tip-toe around so as not to squash any of the
little creatures. A few even fell
from the ceiling, and onto unsuspecting tourists—events that certainly kept the
rest of us alert and on-guard.
Thus, though not always much to look at, the Prag Mahal made a very lasting
impression!
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| Swaminarayan Temple |
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| Temple carvings |
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| Temple entrance |
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| Priest and Priest-in-training quarters |
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| Me in front of the temple! |
I then had the opportunity to visit some Bhuj schools, and
the local hospital. Though these
were not necessarily tourist attractions, visiting them was very interesting to
me. Unlike the hospitals I had
visited in Delhi, the Bhuj hospital was built in courtyard style, with all the
air-conditioned doctors’ offices, operating theaters, and patient rooms on the
perimeter, and a large waiting area in the middle. I had the opportunity to visit the dialysis room, an
operating theater, an MRI theater, and even got to peek into the NICU, where a
tiny baby was fighting for life in an incubator. I still think about him sometimes, and hope that he is now
healthy and strong.
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| Hospital courtyard |
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| Entrance to the nursing school |
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| School dormitory |
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| Immaculate Senior Secondary School. |
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| School courtyard, with a statue of Saraswati, Goddess of Wisdom and Learning. |
We stopped for lunch at a restaurant famous for its Gujarati
thalis. Gujarati food is known for
being predominantly vegetarian, very balanced in its use of the (plant and
dairy) food groups, and for its liberal use of jaggery (unrefined sugar). Specialties include aamka russ (a thick, delicious mango juice), chass (a yogurt drink), slightly sweet dal, and millet rotis. My very comprehensive lunch was
certainly a great education in Gujarati food:
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| My Gujarati thali |
After lunch, we headed to a sari shop the Devi was very
familiar with. We got to spend
some time with a young helper in the shop named Pappu. We found out that he was thirteen years
old, and did attend school, although he wished that he could just drop out and
work full-time at the shop. I
suggested that he give school another chance—though I know that his school was
likely not one of the better ones.
After some chai and pleasant converation at the sari shop,
we headed over to yet another palace—the Sarad Bagh Palace. The Sarad Bagh Palace is surrounded by
beautiful gardens (bagh means garden in many Indian languages), and it was an
enjoyable walk from the parking lot to the palace. The palace itself, though outwardly beautiful, had actually
been badly damaged in the earthquake, and was off limits to visitors. Fortunately, many of the palace’s
artifacts had been saved and moved into a small building nearby, which served
as a museum. Again, I wondered at
the Maharajas’ opulence, egotism, and enthusiasm for killing tigers.
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| Lovely walkway |
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| A bat-filled tree |
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| Sarad Bagh gardens |
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| Lily pond |
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| Sarad Bagh Palace |
After Sarad Bagh, we made a quick stop at an open-air temple
before returning to Madhapar. That
evening, Devi and her husband took me to the outskirts of Madhapar to visit
several farms, all owned by their various relatives. As I’ve always loved farms and farming, this trip was
especially interesting for me.
These family farms were all quite small, and most grew a variety of crops,
including tomatoes (delicious!), cotton, onions, castor, chiku (a small brown,
very sweet, fruit), and mangoes (small and green, but still very
promising!). I also got to meet a
few cows, none of whom seemed particularly interested in being photographed.
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| Tomato fields |
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| Green tomatoes |
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| A red tomato! |
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| Castor seeds |
The next day started off comparatively early, as we would be
traveling out to the actual Wild West of India—the Rann of Kutch. I had heard the name “Rann of Kutch”
many times before, but its definition somehow never stuck in my mind. I soon (re)discovered that the Rann is
a vast desert-like expanse of land.
During the monsoons, the erstwhile desert floods, first with salt water,
then with fresh rain water. We
visited just as summer was beginning to scorch the plains, so the Rann I saw
was quite decidedly desert, but I could still see the encroaching ocean in the
distance. The sight from which we
gazed upon the Rann was called Kaladunger, or Black Mountain. The viewing point contained some animal
models and desert maps, which were borderline tacky, but still
informative. But the Rann itself
was, of course, breath taking in its fearsome, sun-scorched vastness.
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| Temple bell, with the Rann in the background |
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| The Rann of Kutch, with the ocean in the distance |
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In many ways, I found the Rann similar to the deserts of
the Southwestern United States. |
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(Fiber glass models of) wild ass. Kutch is their last
remaining natural habitat. |
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| The Rann and me. |
Next stop was the great salt desert of Kutch. We had come in the off-season, so the
salt had become somewhat dusty and gray.
I knew, however, that directly after the monsoons, the salt desert was
blindingly white as far as the eye could see. Even the light covering of dust on the salt plains was not
enough to sully its beauty.
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| Salt caught in muddy tire tracks |
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| The salt desert |
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| Kutch salt |
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| Mud hut resort |
We ate a packed lunch at a tourist resort that was still
under construction. I learned that
the salt plains play host to the Rann Festival in winter, and that thousands of
tourists came each year. The
resorts tended to be clusters of outwardly traditional mud huts, with very
luxurious interiors. Our lunch hut
was not quite finished yet, but it was still interesting to see the progress
that had been made on the various buildings in the resort.
Our next big trip was to Mandvi, a place that Lonely Planet has dubbed a “minor
miracle.” And it truly does seem
miraculous that this cheerful, almost tropical feeling beach area is less than
an hour away from the barren desert for which Kutch is so well known. Sure enough, as we drove from Madhapar,
I noticed the terrain changing.
Slowly, the short scrubby desert bushes faded away, and vibrant green
coconut palms filled their place.
The desert towns receded into the background, and soon we were passing
by farm after farm after farm. Our
first destination was one of these farms.
The Mandvi trip hosted the biggest group yet, including
Devi, her husband, their nephew and his wife, their son, and Anita, a family
friend. The farm we were visiting
belonged to Anita’s sister and her husband, and we were warmly welcomed with
tender coconut water and sugar cane.
Though I had seen sugarcane in stores before, I had never seen it
actually growing, and I marveled that these thick, strong, green, bamboo-like
stalks would eventually become the tiny white granules baked into cakes and
stirred into tea. I also walked
beneath the family’s coconut palms, and around their wheat fields, as their
livestock looked on, unimpressed.
We stopped for lunch at an Indian cultural center known as
Ambedham. Even after asking a
number of questions and doing a great deal of internet research I am still
unclear of its mission. I even
took photographs of the Hindi signs, hoping that their translations would solve
the mystery. When I showed the
photograph of the sign to my friend, however, I received only peals of laughter
before being told that the signs were so Sanskritized as to be
indecipherable. From what I could
glean though, the center preached Indian unity, and the preservation of Indian
culture through beautiful and detailed dioramas and scenes. I admired its efforts to promote the idea that all Indians should unite, regardless of faith. Considering the religious tensions that continue to plague India, this message is an important one. A number of exhibits have
been set up extolling India’s glorious past of farming, scholarly learning, and
worship. The dioramas on India’s
possible future seemed somewhat alarmist: a scantily clad daughter-in-law attacking
her parents, an overflowing AIDS clinic, and a nursing home filled
with forlorn looking elderly people were just three examples.
Though I did not agree with all of the exhibits, and would have
preferred a more balanced take on modern India, the possible perils of globalization
are certainly nothing to take lightly.
And of course I agree that the preservation of the positive aspects of
this ancient culture is imperative, as is a feeling of unity between all
Indians. Fortunately, I think many Indians
feel that Indian culture is far stronger than the materialistic
impulses flooding the country now, and that it will continue to endure. It is likely that this exhibit will
change entirely in several years, and I would be interested in visiting again
at some point.
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| Farm house |
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| Evil daughter-in-law |
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| Women's health clinic |
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| Followers of India's many religious faiths uniting to serve Mother India. |
Next stop was the Vijay Vilas Palace—yet another example of
the Maharajas’ opulence. The
palace, built in the 19th Century, served as the Maharajas’ summer
palace, and was somehow less affected by the earthquake than the other palaces
I had seen in Kutch. Part of this
might have to do with the fact that this palace is probably the most famous—it
was used as a set for a number of Bollywood films, including Aamir Khan’s Lagaan. The palace itself was beautiful, but my favorite aspect of
it was the magnificent view from its ramparts of the surrounding area. Coconut palms, chiku orchards, the
Palace’s own magnificent gardens, and the beach were all clearly visible.
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| Vijay Vilas Palace |
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| This handsome guy was sunbathing in front of the palace. |
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| The group |
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| At the back of the palace |
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| The view from the top |
With these trips, I was able to see some of the most famous
tourist attractions of Kutch.
Perhaps even more special though, were the less touristy, more ordinary,
but equally fascinating places that I visited. I have mentioned some already above, but there were
certainly others, including a countless temples, small eateries, parks, and a
giant Hanuman statue to rival the one in Shimla. With my expert local guides I was able to go to places that
I would never have known about otherwise, and I was able to sample what was
widely known to be the best ice cream in Kutch, the most delicious mango shake
I had ever tasted, and delicious Gujarati samosas, which were quite different
from the Delhi variety. I was able
to see Indian family farms, including Hema’s father’s farm, up close—which were
particularly interesting to me after having lived on a New York farm for four
summers. Best of all was the fact
that I was living with a family, and not in a hotel, and that I was taking all
my trips with a family familiar with the area, and not a tour group.
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Myself, Devi, and her husband in front of a model of Krishna and
Arjuna's chariot. (It is upon this chariot that the events of the Bhagavad Gita take place.) |
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| Giant Hanuman |
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| Just to show how big he was... |
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Gujarati samosa with chutney. Unlike Delhi samosas,
which are filled with potatoes, these are filled with spiced chickpea flour. |
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| Fresh samosas |
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| Women heading to the temple festival. |
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| Temple festival music makers. |
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| A peanut field on Govind's (Hema's father's) farm. |
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| Green mangoes. |
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| Long horned cow. |
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| Naughty calf. |
I am immensely grateful for this opportunity to see
Gujarat—a state not typically on the tourist map (though its tourism department
and Bollywood king Amitabh Bachchan are certainly working hard to put it
there!). I am also very thankful
for the warm welcome and wonderful Indian hospitality I received there. For those planning trips to Indian in
the future: I highly recommend a trip to Kutch. It is a fascinating area, and a welcome change from the
typical Delhi-Agra-Jaipur agenda.
I for one, certainly hope to visit again soon!
