Divine joy

This was a lazy-ish Sunday. Slept in. Had breakfast at the pool. Swam. Made my way to the museum, and the reason for all the fairy lights became clear. It was a celebration for the great warrior and king from the sixteenth century, Rana Pratap Singh. The Royal Courtyard, Rai Angan, was adorned in strings of marigold garlands. Every picture and sculpture was draped in flowers. Incense burned, and freshly cut leaves were strung across the verandahs like sweet smelling Christmas decorations, or happy birthday signs. There was even a whole new setup for him, which included his shield and his 25kg coat of armour.

Took 'my' girls their new clothes. What pure joy. I’m not sure who got more pleasure out of these fairly ordinary outfits – them or me. It was a whole ceremony in and of itself. The little one just wanted to put her new shorts over what she was wearing. The older one was shyer. So many smiles and thank you’s and namastes and hand shakes. I was thrilled. Absolutely thrilled. I’ve rarely had so much joy from giving something so simple. I’m not sure who got more out of the gift, them or me. But it certainly gave credence to the notion that the giver receives more than the receiver.

Wandered into India in the afternoon. Visited the Jagdish temple just outside the palace gates. Saw a man who used his hands to climb the steep stairs with an effortless ease. Was shown around by a boy not much older than ten. Wise to the ways of westerners. Signs saying no guiding allowed. Proclaimed to be student not a guide. The place was filthy. But there was Ganesh, again, and in his own special gated shrine I saw a rat disappear into the hole below him. Ganesh rides around on a rat. Was hoping it would be an auspicious sign. Popped a note into a box for the elephant god to answer a prayer. Indian thinking is obviously making inroads into my psyche.

Moved on down the road where I came across a miniature painting shop with a Hebrew sign. The sign was upside down. They said they were waiting for a Jewish person to tell them the right way round. A young man sat in the corner painting wedding invitations for someone in Australia. A hundred miniature peacocks on square silk for the invitation. Then a hundred elephants for the thank you cards. Each one individually painted. All for the grand sum of 3,000 rupees ($90). I would have stayed longer but I was disconcerted, to say the least, by the very friendly proprietor, a young man who had a pony tail growing out of each ear, literally.

Took my music, took my vodka, and ended my day at the Sunset View Café watching the sun go down behind the Aravalli Hills. It was a small moment of perfection.