India travel blog, day 8... when Vicki learns that she needs more India in her real life
"Royalty has not died its death in Democratic India"
I wake to the sound of roosters crowing. I slept like a princess, in the turret of a small, slightly crumbling, incredibly peaceful 16th century castle in Rajasthan, India. Pinch me."Royalty has not died its death in Democratic India," reads a review of Castle Bijaipur on TripAdvisor. "The castle is romantically beautiful and echoes romance chivalry and the medieval Rajput clan". It's true; it does. Both refined and rustic, with marble floors and stiff brass locks, Castle Bijaipur manages to feel equally indulgent and homely.
If you ever get the chance to have a heritage stay in Rajasthan, take it. I've stayed in ludicrously expensive five star hotels in the West, and I'd take a heritage stay in India—complete with dodgy plumbing and a lizard on my bedroom wall—any day.
Playboy in rural India
I wander through the property after breakfast, attracting shy smiles from the men, women and children who live and work at the hotel. Very few people speak English, and I don't speak either Hindi or Rajasthani; I wish we could communicate in something other than smiles. I am as curious about them as they are about me.
Once again, we are greeted with a royal welcome: music, marigold necklaces, tilak dots. It's hard not to feel special in India. At the same time, I wonder how special I'd feel if I was a woman born here. At every place we've visited, I've been conscious of the difference in the lives of men and women in India. Men dominate the public realm; do women dominate the private?
Harvesting water chestnuts
We are treated to another cooking demonstration at the farm, but it's the women working on the lake that attract my attention: one younger, one older, both sitting in shallow boats, pulling water chestnuts from the murky water. They talk quietly, grin, sneak glances in my direction.
I wonder what they are saying. I must seem completely foreign: I don't just look different, I live a foreign life—a life of leisure. I imagine them saying: "What's so interesting about harvesting bloody chestnuts?" I imagine them visiting my office, saying nothing, taking photos of me working away at my computer. Yeah, that would be weird.
Lunch with the Maharana
The current owner of these lands, including Castle Bijaipur, joins us for lunch. He is introduced as the Maharana, and I wonder if I've misheard; doesn't Maharana mean "king of kings"?Our host tells us he is the 13th generation to live in the castle. “I was married at 23 and now I have grandchildren,” he says. “But now the women don't want to get married and have children. People get married at 40!” He shakes his head, chuckling. I read his mind: what is the world coming to?
We have a debate on our way back to the hotel. Does India need modernization, or not? Can India become more like the West... without becoming more like the West?
"You can't impose your cultural standards..."
I see the poverty in India, the inequality, the subjugation, and the need for better access to healthcare, education, clean water and sanitation, regardless of sex, caste or income. I see children begging, and read too many headlines about rape. I was delighted when India reversed legislation that criminalized same-sex relationships, and wish for more change, especially for the women. ("You can't impose your cultural standards on other countries," argues one of my tour companions.)
I also see things that make Indian culture wonderfully unique: the dazzling array of coloured saris and turbans; cows that stop traffic; trucks and tractors covered with “bling bling” to ward off evil spirits; people happily piled onto motorbikes or wedged into tuk tuks, oblivious to safety standards and road rules; a social structure built on family and community; a complex system of hotel bookkeeping that requires two men, carbon paper, and many separate books. And an incredible sense of feeling welcomed.
I would be sorry to come back and stay at a predictable Best Western, grab a Starbucks in the morning, and wander through a village where everyone was wearing nondescript western clothes and no one waved "Hello!" You could speed things up, and implement more road rules, but then it wouldn't be India. Part of India's charm is the feeling of stepping into an older, more traditional, less rigid world—not to mention friendlier, and more colourful.
My hopes and wishes
As a tourist, I hope some things stay the same. As a woman, mother, and believer that everyone should enjoy access to education, healthcare and clean water, I hope for change. As a foreigner, I recognize that it's not up to me to decide what's right for the people—or women—of India.
One thing I am sure of: I want more India in my real life. More community, more colour; less pointless stress, and more friendly waves. After dinner back at the castle, I head to bed and sleep for 10 hours. I haven't been this relaxed in months. So, whose culture needs to change?