Udaipur is a town that captured you from the start. As I sat on my overnight train to Ahmedabad en route to Vadodara, I looked back at one of the more romantic moments rekindled with one's self and the world. Yes, not even the hard juts and halts of the train carriage could dampen one's reflection of...
Many will tell you (and this is a sure dead giveaway they hadn’t put down their travel guide books!) that the palaces greeted you with the first sight on this city. Not exactly. Perhaps if you took to being shipped around by a Taj or Oberoi equivalent (which really cut you off from seeing a majority of the many things that happened off the cuff on the streets) but not if you burn it through the hills that encapsulated this city like gentle giant camels that sat in unison. You can get hopelessly lost finding different roof top restaurants to have a sundowner or dinner by the candlelight, or you can soak in the day’s slapping and ritualistic cleansing done by the local women of their laundry and their toilet disciplines. Cows parked in almost every corner, sometimes near a water pump, while another turn, your eyes feasted upon the colourful assembly of a post-funeral gathering (how starkly different from a Chinese!) and up the hills, get a shave and close hair trim for Rs50 while pampered yourself with some Ayurvedic potions and creams from Auntie Anju (as she fussed over you like her child?) and the many self-professed screening of Octopussy.
There were many vantage spots to capture many a wonderful, romantic way to end the day. What I would leave for you to discover beyond the guide books is the hidden gems in the town quarters that the foreigners would never go. Come here. Take a slow unplanned, unchartered walk. You will see in close proximity, slim lanky women draped in all adornment, carrying loads of washing, ground flour, and some, dried up cow dung mud cakes. There will be carvers begging for patronage. Then some donkeys passed by, another woman dodging your path as she deftly carried a gigantic load of tree branches. Shy grandmothers sat by their little haveli’s shuttered windows, carts of vegetables tempting a bystanding cow. Walk down to the Muslim quarters, join a few boys and show them how the jumping tic-tac-toe is done. Wave at a kid that just wanted a hello. Resist an old Udaipurian woman asking you to clear off her vegetables for sale for the day, only to be mesmerized by the giant circular nose ring hanging on her face, protruding like a sore thumb yet elegantly reminding you of her youthful days. Stop for a chai and have another one. Marvel at the miracle of life as you stand and watch a mother dog nursing her eight puppies.
As traditional Rajasthani folk music filled the night’s air and swallows and sparrows burnt off into the sunset, sit back and relax with the assurance that Udaipur will remain as individually unique as She had been the night before, and tomorrow. For I really believe that Udaipur has to be seen, to be cherished. Like a lover that you took in a moment of uncalculated presumption, Udaipur will be the name that forever rings a sweet heartbreakingly melancholy note in your heart of hearts.
Only your yearning to return will be what is sufficiently called your sustenance during your time of separation.
