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The first stage of the journey to Bundi was a three hour bus drive to Chittorgarh. Initially the bus station was a bit scary - a downmarket version of the Montpellier one, with buses which looked as if they might not make the trip and nobody speaking English. But I bought my ticket and realised that the chit of paper had a bus number written on it, and luckily numbers are often written in English. Besides this was the only bus which looked like one I would like to travel in! It did indeed turn out to be perfectly comfortable and the journey was pretty effortless.
I do love the countryside in this southern part of Rajasthan: the rocky rolling hills interspersed with little villages are what my picture of India has been since reading Kipling and watching Satjayit Ray's films (must watch Pather Panchali again, if it is still available).
I had four hours before my train to Bundi, so after a quick breakfast in an unappealing hotel (the best Chittor can offer), I set off to see the fort. Chittor turned out to be a busy, unappealing city but its glory is in its past.
It has the most magnificent fort and three times in its history the occupants fought hopelessly by valiantly against the moghuls, ending up with the women committing mass suicide and the men riding out to be slaughtered on the battlefield. So it is a scene of tragic but heroic deeds by the Rajputs.
The fort, which is huuuuge, is approached up a winding road, through a series of seven giant gates. At the top is a huge area of ruined temples, palaces and monuments covering a whole hillside. The first stop was the amazing Jayha Stumba, Tower of Victory. This is a nine-story tower (I climbed to the top!) built by Rana Kumbha in the 15th century. Yet again, photos cannot do justice to the intricate detailed carving on all the surfaces at every level, nor the breathtaking views at the top.
I visited a couple of temples and ruined palaces. Padmini's Palace has a particularly poignant story. The husband of the princess Padmini allowed Ala-ud-din only to see his wife's reflection in a mirror in the palace. This one glimpse was enough to make Ala-ud-din decide to destroy Chittor in order to have Padmini. The palace has lovely rose gardens and looks out ove a (dried up) lake, and one can imagine it inhabited by this princess.
India is full - of Indians. One of the nice things about weekends is that you are surrounded by Indian tourists enjoying a family outing. According to Guide Routard, Indians account for 80% of tourists. I had the feeling that at Chittor it was more like 98%. I wonder if its heroic history makes it a special place of pilgrimage.
Time to get to the railway station, which turned out to be even more scary than the bus station. I had had an earlier, aimable exchange with the left luggage, where I deposited my bags during my stopover. But now information about the Bundi train when it would come, how long it took and which platform to go to - proved difficult to get. I eventually gathered that I should go to platform 5 (why are my trains ALWAYS across that bridge, on the other side of the station?). The entrance to the bridge was blocked (which explains why everybody except for me was taking the more hazardous route across about five railway tracks) but two boys kindly helped me climbe over an iron fence so I could get onto the bridge.
Again more kindness on the platform. I found one boy who was able to tell me that the train would go to Bundi and, as the train drew in, various people rushed up to tell me I was getting into the wrong carriage - 2nd a/c sleeper was further on.
I enjoyed the first two hours of the journey, through picturesque countryside, but then got quite agitated. I had been told that the journey took two hours. The train stopped after two hours, but an old man insisted this was not Bundi. By this stage there was nobody (awake) who spoke English. For the next hour I stood with my bags at the door, waiting to jump off the train everytime it stopped. The old man, squatting patiently on the floor beside me, said no on every occasion. Finally we were there. Time for the next adventure.
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