Sweat and mirrors

I spent time today working in this spot where kings would eat. It's called Manak Mahal, the ruby room. The powerful colour is a work of art in itself. Through cusped arches mirrors reflect sparkling deep green and red glass tiles, giving the impression of rooms within rooms. This room leads off a courtyard decorated with five peacocks elaborately created out of fine inlaid glass. Each one strutting a different pose. The collective noun for peacocks is pride. A pride of peacocks. Thank you Wikipedia.

This one's for you, Steve + Barbara. I specially got the guard to take it.

I opened my door this morning - my only source of natural light - and the sky was full of dark clouds. I welcomed the coming of the monsoon, for no reason other than to perhaps cool down. Forced myself to go for my early morning swim. After all, how many times in a lifetime does a person have the opportunity to swim in a marble pool? The marble from this district is called Makrana and was most famously used in the construction of the Taj Mahal. Incidentally, way before Shah Jahan built the Taj for his favourite wife Mumtaz, he had a major falling out with his father Jahangir. He sought refuge right here in Udaipur, where he lived on Jagmandir, an island famous for its sandstone palace and garden, and situated in Lake Pichola.

History lessons aside, as I went down for my swim there were two people sitting around the pool. Now the only people I'm used to seeing are the many men in their white uniforms, red sashes and red turbans, who wait on your every move in an entirely empty restaurant. We began a bit of polite chat, as you do. They turned out to be South Africans who live in Los Angeles.

The world is small. And, as Thomas Friedman says, the world is now flat. I took the opportunity to test my 'script' and gave them a tour of the Palace Museum. Afterwards, naturally, we went to cool down in the Palki Khana where Peter and Hilary were relieved to have a drink with ice. Ice is not commonly found in India. Peter was so thrilled with his iced tea, served with great panache by Ambika's staff, that he wanted his picture taken. I was happy to oblige.

The wind blew the clouds away. The monsoons never came. And as Hilary so aptly put it, it was another day of 'shvitzing'.