We stand on the edge of the dilapidated bridge as the river rages. The sun bathes us in its orche embrace as we share the bridge with the oncoming trucks . As the sunset burns the landscape and silhouettes the Cenotaph of Maharaja Sujan Singh, we hold our breath as the whiff of petrol fumes gags in our throat and the vacuum of air from the passing trucks sucks us towards the rivers depth. The sacrifice was worth it to capture mother nature at her most vulnerable; that period where the day weeps away and the night roars. Babas emerge from unknown crevices and fasten themselves to rocks to meditate. In an attempt to gather some understanding of the Hindu way we watch the Priest give out blessings to the masses as he bathes them in rosewater and basil. The poverty of village life becomes prevalient in the subsistence lifestyle and their dependence on cottage industries. School children make their way to resource poor classrooms in a hope of breaking the cycle of poverty and we sample freshly prepared food cooked in an authentic kitchen.
In Orchha, grandeur is captured in stone, frozen in time; a rich legacy of the ages. The palaces and temples built by its Bundela rulers in the 16th and 17th centuries, retain much of their pristine perfection. Orchha boasts the Raj Mahal, Lexminarayan temple as well as the impressive Jehangir Mahal, a tiered palace crowned by graceful chhatris, where monkeys trapeze across rooftops and rabid dogs howl.
As we sit by the sacred river and watch garlands of marigolds float by, we are again entranced by the beauty of India.
No comments:
Post a Comment