India Trip with My Parents: Confessions of a Jaipuroholic

Jaipur is, simply put, a shopaholic's dream. If you don't emerge with a plaster statue of a leery Mother Theresa (see picture below), then you will definitely get about three different types of jewelry, or then for sure about a dozen shoes for the whole fam. (Not to say that any of this actually happened, of course. Especially not the Mother Theresa bit).

Everything in this city is attractive and photogenic, like a window shop: the actual window shops of the artisans divided by streets--the jewelers, marble-workers, shoemakers, textilemakers, etc.; the eighteenth-century Rajput architecture, a bit on the worn side; and, of course, the pink facade of the Hawa Mahal, the Palace of the Winds, the fantasy creation of the Maharaja Sawaj Pratap Singh, one in a long line of valiant, moustachioed Jaipur rulers.

(We had our own brush with royalty when I callously coaxed the 94-year-old Rana (Princess) who owned our hotel to come talk to us. This bird-like, tiny elderly lady is famous for being the first in the region to come out of purdah--the system of seclusion for noblewomen that was a legacy of the Muslims who semi-conquered, semi-collaborated with the Rajputs since the 16th century. Her picture with my Mom is in the middle.)

And then, of course, there is Amber Fort, true to its name, gleaming in the bright Rajasthan sun. It is all inlaid panels and mirrored ceilings, and architectural features derived from the Mughals like the geometric garden where the maharajah strolled with his favorite wives.

Incidentally, it is the mention of these multiple wives that makes these Rajasthani forts so titillating. At every step you're encouraged to put yourself in the ladies' shoes, looking down at the activity in the palace courtyard through the slits in the walls that pointed down (so that they could see yet not be seen). Or else you're imagining the maharajah walking these same labyrinthine courtyards to make a stealthy nocturnal visit. One wonders how it is that the present mores of India have gotten so conservative.

And then, a Jaipur blue ceramics store beckons...