Miss Adventures

As Indian states go, Gujarat has a long way to go before becoming tourist friendly. It may be the homeland of many a global Indian (the Patel clan comes from there), but it’s lacking in some of the things that draw tourists, namely the Taj Mahal and alcohol.

Nevertheless, as Gujarat borders on Maharashtra, we decided to pay a weekend visit. Mind you, we didn’t go to the cities like Ahmedabad (home to Gandhi’s erstwhile ashram) or even to Surat. Instead, we flew into Rajkot and drove an hour to the village of Wankaner, a dusty, but bustling village and home to the Wankaner Palace.

Like most former Raj palaces, Wankaner has tried to position itself as a heritage hotel. A friend of ours had stayed there sometime back (”I’m personal friends with the Raj,” she said), so we figured we’d book. The idea sounded quirky enough, and we were under the impression that we’d be staying in the Ranjit Villas - in a real Maharaja’s palace! When we arrived, however, we found we were the only guests at the Motiwadi Royal Oasis, the summer residence of the Wankaners, just 2km away. As we would also discover, no one (other than, perhaps, close personal friends) is allowed to stay in the actual palace - the former Maharaja, Raj, and their family still live there - and no one even stays at the Royal Residency, as parts of it are still under renovation as a result of damage from the Bhuj earthquake.
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No matter what the raging controversy is about the new film about Mangal Pandey, whether it was too harshly anti-British or that Pandey, India’s first so-called freedom fighter, was blasphemously portrayed as a having a relationship with a nautch girl, the picture was a pleasure to watch. I went to the film with approximately 20 other Hindi learners last night, and was really pleased with the quality of the film, from the costumes and acting to the fight scenes and the dialogue (even though I wasn’t able to understand the poetry of the Hindi – mein seekh rahi hoon!) True, the dance scenes probably have no business being in a film about such a serious subject, but I found that they were a welcome break from the tense dialogue. Plus, how can you hate a movie in which Rani Mukherjee plays the nautch girl? Her raspy voice is cool and she’s got more substance to her than most of the other Bollywood actresses.
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The first thing I thought of when reading this front-page story in the Times of India today was, “Couldn’t they have let the poor thing live somewhere in the country?”

As I’ve said before, animal rights have a long way to go in this country. Full text of the “hobra,” an animal oddity similar to a liger, continues…
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I’ve often mused at the title of “I’m Not Rappaport,” the play-then-film about two men from varying backgrounds coming to terms with the ravages of old age. Even though I’ve never seen the play or the film, I was always tickled each time the phrase was used as the punchline of any dumb joke. After yesterday, however, I can kind of say I know what I’m talking about.

“I’m Not Bajirao” is the Bombayite take on the play, wherein an aged Parsi and his Marathi counterpart drone on about old age, the good old days, jokes, family, etc. The play has been running off-and-on for years in Bombay - Anthony likened it to the Shear Madness of Bombay, and thus something we should probably see. So, last evening, we caught a performance at the Tata Theatre, part of the NCPA, an arts complex I’ve lauded before.
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