An evening at Hawa Mahal

On the first weekend of the new financial year of 2019–20, I began a journey. This journey was to be a unique one in more ways than one. It was my first trip alone with my parents since my trip in April 2012 to Leh Ladakh. While this trip was earlier supposed to be a father — daughter trip, my mom just couldn’t let go of this opportunity of travel together once more and joined us as well.

As with most of my trips, this one too got off with a bumpy start. Though this time, the bumpy start wasn’t so figurative as it was literal. We started our journey from Ahmedabad in a tiny plane with about only 80 seats, with mechanical propeller instead of an automatic jet engine. We were transported to the olden times, before we even set foot in Jaipur.

Jaipur, the pink city, the city where I lived for the first few years of my life, the city where my brother was bitten by a Scorpion, the city where I suffered from incessant diarrhea for 6 whole months, the city where my mom became a stronger person living on her own, the city where my dad flourished in his career, the city where his students went on a strike asking to reinstate him when he resigned as a lecturer. Jaipur, had so much of history in our lives. It appeared so often in my parents’ stories and yet it had little to no memory for me. This was a trip for them to revisit their memories and for me to build new ones. For me, this was a trip to look at Jaipur from their eyes and mind and to travel to those past years with them.

I fell in love with Jaipur at first sight through the small glass window of the car that was bound to my hotel. I was surprised at the size of roads. The six lane roads spoke of progress. The architecture of its past buildings spoke of history and culture and their preservation through ages. The new glass buildings spoke of the adoption of the new.

Being Gujaratis by birth and foodies by nature, our first stop was at Rawat Mishthan Bhandar, wherefrom we picked up some kachoris for our midday meal. The smell was so aromatic, the packet was so warm and my stomach was so empty that without waiting to reach the hotel, me and my mom feasted on half a kachori in the back seat of our taxi.

Post our Kachori meal, all three of us headed in different directions. My dad went to the exhibition, due to which this trip came into being in the first place. My mom, her childhood friend and I started off towards the Hawa Mahal. On our way there, I was once again pleasantly surprised to see the walled city. The gates were grandiose. The shops, all of the same pinkish brown colour and built in the old style architecture and their names were written in the same, colour, format and font. While there was homogeny in colour and fonts, each building had its own unique character with a different window, arch, carving or a grander structure. It set forth in true sense India’s motto of Unity in Diversity.

Reaching the Hawa Mahal, inspite of being discouraged by several people of the irrelevance in visiting the Hawa Mahal from inside, inspite of being convinced more than once that the beauty of Hawa Mahal was only in the façade, I decided to form my own opinions.

Accompanied by the guide, I set out to explore the Wind Palace. He told me of the existent Purdah system in the Rajputs, whereby no member other than immediate family was allowed to see the queens. He told me of the want of the queens to see the processions of the kings and the celebrations of the residents. He told me of the generous nature of the king who built this palace for the queens to look at the processions and enjoy the festivals.

I asked the guide if the queen would come here everyday to look at the daily goings of the lives of the people of her kingdom, He told me that the queens obviously couldn’t come everyday and that they needed a reason to visit the Hawa Mahal, that was directly connected to the city palace. The reason could be a festival or even to see the full moon.

The guide told me about its astounding architecture which allowed cool winds in the hotter days and provided a place for the queens to sunbath at in the winters. He spoke of the welcome of the queens, where by her retainers would shower flowers from a window above the gate, when she came in. He talked of the ramps that the king got built instead of stairs, which allowed the queens who wore heavy garments and jewellery to reach the top floor more easily. He talked of the thoughtfulness of the king for her queens.

He showed me the huge terrace on one end and told me that the king got that built to provide the queens a place for dancing. When I asked of the small seat protruding out at the centre of the terrace, I was told that it was the seat of the king, for him to enjoy the dances of queens.

He showed me the three tiny windows at each level. One at centre to look down and small ones in left and right to allow a 180 degree view. Once again the thoughtfulness of the king was highlighted.

I wondered, whether the queens would have preferred to go outside and enjoy the colours of festivals from a 360 degree view or would they have preferred this 180 degree view from small windows of a tall palace. Would they have preferred to wear comfortable clothes instead of the heavy ones with jewellery that were required to highlight her status as a queen? Would she have preferred stairs to the heavier clothes? Would she have preferred a walk by a river side to the fountains of the Hawa Mahal on a hot sunny day? Would she have preferred not to keep touching up make up in the make up rooms at each level, before arriving at the top, especially when she was to be seen by no one? Would she have preferred a way from the city to the Hawa Mahal, seeing on the way the shops and sites of the city, rather than a direct pathway? And if the palace was really made for the queen’s enjoyment, why was her access restricted? If the terrace was really made for her to enjoy her time dancing without abandon, why was it attached to a seat? Was the dancing area for the queen’s entertainment or the king’s?

While most people were right and the insides weren’t as glorious as the façade, my decision proved correct for myself, as I found a story and a few questions in the abandoned rooms and lanes of the Hawa Mahal.

Once back from the Hawa Mahal, I joined my mom and her friend at the Wind View Café right opposite the Hawa Mahal. Over a cup of tea, with the view of its glorious façade, I got to witness the camaraderie of old friends, as my mom and her friend reminisced the old times, with stories of mischief, kindness and friendship. I also ended up explaining the concept of Hawa Mahal to a foreigner who seemed confused by its 935 windows for a view. The answer was obvious. There wasn’t one queen for our generous kings, there were many.

Read ‘A Vibrant and Serene Jaipur (Jaipur Travelogue — II)’ here