In the lap of the gods

The wheels slowly ground to a halt today. I had bad dreams last night. I slept in. Never had my swim. Rushed off for a 10.30 meeting with the princess. Fortunately she was late, which gave me a breather. She arrived dressed in the most striking fluorescent white outfit, still talking on her Blackberry. Then she graciously apologized for keeping me waiting.

There I stood in my neatly ironed black cottons still feeling somewhat disheveled and decidedly sweaty. I wanted to show you a photograph, but that would have been just soooo uncool. So I kept it all professional and did my business. But by the time we’d finished, and I’d completed a run through the miniature painting galleries, then spent time in the library , it was well past midday.

I came back to my computer and worked on what is probably my most important stop. Eklingji, the personal deity of the royal family. The sole rationale behind why the ruler’s the ruler and not his elder brother. Pardon the didactic note here, but I’ll explain the name. Ek means ‘one’. Ling is the lingum, or divine penis (truth to some, oxymoron to others), and ji, being a term of respect. Whatever the case, Eklingji is a manifestation of Shiva, the god of gods and ultimate controller of the universe. So whether you call them rulers, kings, or Maharanas, they are essentially transient custodians of the kingdom, because Eklingji is the ultimate power.

And then it seemed there was nothing left in me. I felt drained. I realized I’ve been working every day since I arrived. So I calculated how much time I had until Paul gets here, and concluded I could slacken off a little. Just a little. I took the rest of the afternoon off and headed out the big arched gateway into India, where I found a shop that sold 'regular' clothes as opposed to 'tourist' clothes. I bought an outfit each for ‘my’ two little girls who live in a single dark room with their mother (with a bit of luck there’s a father) in a well-swept decaying courtyard just off the palace office where I pay my daily courtesy call on the dour Mr Bhupendra.

All day visions of my two big girls swirled around my thinking. How to let go. When to let go. What we have control over. What we don’t. Very little, it seems. Very little.

So I gave up. Went for a swim. Sat under the big frangipani tree. Had a rose bubble bath and headed to the Palki Khana with my water bottle of vodka, ordered a mango juice, and watched the sun go down over the palace lit in fairy lights for some special celebration.