Sara likes to alternate between active and inactive days. Today is inactive, so she stays home to put her feet up in the sun on the rooftop terrace and is soon absorbed in her Dalai Lama biography.
From The Times of India: A Mumbai judge has ruled that "casteish" comments are legal in private, but not in public. Any guidance on racist, sexist and homophobic comments?
I meet Ashok the taximan as arranged and we go off into the country. Beyond Dharamshala we head up into rolling hills, stopping briefly at a tea plantation, very neat and green, where I buy strong Kangra tea. Once behind the wheel, Ashok's competitive spirit gets the better of his promise to drive "slow, slow and steady". He demonstrates his safety consciousness by sounding the horn at every other vehicle, pedestrian or animal in sight, plus those not yet in sight but which may lurk round the next blind bend. I feel more secure seated in the back, but remove the front headrest to gain a better view. He is good at anticipating requests for photo-stops, including one next to a little roadside shrine to the god Kali. Kali is a sort of Hindu St. Christopher but with more arms. There is a little pile of banknotes in front of the image, which Ashok explains are left by drivers seeking Kali's protection for a safe journey. I wonder if I should add more rupees to the pile, then decide that this might only encourage A to drive even more furiously.
India Road safety slogan: "Chance Takers are Accident Makers".
We lurch up minor roads, dodging potholes, goats and a dead monkey, into a wooded landscape of steep hills and valleys reminiscent of Derbyshire near Matlock Bath. Unusually for India, it is very sparsely populated up here, with just a few straggly villages. In one, we spot a wedding party. Ashok stops the car so I can get photos. The group fans out and the bride begins a horrible wailing. Her newly wedded husband must drag her by force to live with his family. I don't think Indians go in for mother-in-law jokes - it's no laughing matter (you only have a watch a few Hindi soaps to understand that).
Our destination is the rock temple complex at Masrur, an "Incredible India" monument in the care of the Archaeological Survey of India, hence with a Rs. 100 entry fee for foreigners (Rs. 5 for Indians). The 19 temples were cut out of a single solid outcrop of sandstone in the 9th century, like Lalibela in Ethiopia, but above ground. They are now very badly eroded in places and part ruined as a result of the massive 1905 earthquake (which also destroyed much of Dharamshala). The site has a similar plan to Baijnath (see Weds) with a large central temple and satellite shrines, and enough detail survives to suggest its richness. I'm not up to speed on Indian architectural terms. The free leaflet proclaims "Wall mouldings consist of khura, kumbha, kalasa and kapotakalli. The janghas are topped by the varandika and the latter is profusely decorated" - but I'm not sure where to look. I'm followed round by a straggle of 10 year olds who smile innocently, call me "uncle" and practise their primary school English. I doubt if they know a kalasa from a kapotakalli either.
From there to Kangra Fort, glimpsed earlier in the week, another scheduled monument. This is a seemingly impregnable fortress in a commanding position at the confluence of two rivers. Its massive scale makes even the grandest English medieval castles look rather weedy by comparison. A stupendous engineering feat dating back, in part, 1000 years, though the residential palace is in ruins (1905 again). There's an excellent audio guide, narrated in part by the present Maharaja, who speaks with an Indian Old Etonian drawl and sounds like a jolly nice chap.
Back to the Annex at 4.30, but find no Sara. We meet by chance in Temple Road. Despite declaring herself "all templed out" earlier in the week, she's been down the road again, fascinated to watch the monks engaged in vigorous theological debates in the larger of the on-site temples. She doesn't think the Dalai Lama is amongst them, though it's hard to tell as so many monks of a certain age look just like him. They should hold a Dalai Lama lookalike competition - everyone a winner.
Note to followers: Tomorrow evening we will be on the Jammu Mail again, heading back overnight to Delhi. I hope to catch up with more posts on Saturday. Richard
From The Times of India: A Mumbai judge has ruled that "casteish" comments are legal in private, but not in public. Any guidance on racist, sexist and homophobic comments?
I meet Ashok the taximan as arranged and we go off into the country. Beyond Dharamshala we head up into rolling hills, stopping briefly at a tea plantation, very neat and green, where I buy strong Kangra tea. Once behind the wheel, Ashok's competitive spirit gets the better of his promise to drive "slow, slow and steady". He demonstrates his safety consciousness by sounding the horn at every other vehicle, pedestrian or animal in sight, plus those not yet in sight but which may lurk round the next blind bend. I feel more secure seated in the back, but remove the front headrest to gain a better view. He is good at anticipating requests for photo-stops, including one next to a little roadside shrine to the god Kali. Kali is a sort of Hindu St. Christopher but with more arms. There is a little pile of banknotes in front of the image, which Ashok explains are left by drivers seeking Kali's protection for a safe journey. I wonder if I should add more rupees to the pile, then decide that this might only encourage A to drive even more furiously.
India Road safety slogan: "Chance Takers are Accident Makers".
 |
| Village wedding "happy" couple at centre of group |
We lurch up minor roads, dodging potholes, goats and a dead monkey, into a wooded landscape of steep hills and valleys reminiscent of Derbyshire near Matlock Bath. Unusually for India, it is very sparsely populated up here, with just a few straggly villages. In one, we spot a wedding party. Ashok stops the car so I can get photos. The group fans out and the bride begins a horrible wailing. Her newly wedded husband must drag her by force to live with his family. I don't think Indians go in for mother-in-law jokes - it's no laughing matter (you only have a watch a few Hindi soaps to understand that).
 |
| Masrur rock-hewn temples |
 |
| Kangra Fort from across the valley |
From there to Kangra Fort, glimpsed earlier in the week, another scheduled monument. This is a seemingly impregnable fortress in a commanding position at the confluence of two rivers. Its massive scale makes even the grandest English medieval castles look rather weedy by comparison. A stupendous engineering feat dating back, in part, 1000 years, though the residential palace is in ruins (1905 again). There's an excellent audio guide, narrated in part by the present Maharaja, who speaks with an Indian Old Etonian drawl and sounds like a jolly nice chap.
Back to the Annex at 4.30, but find no Sara. We meet by chance in Temple Road. Despite declaring herself "all templed out" earlier in the week, she's been down the road again, fascinated to watch the monks engaged in vigorous theological debates in the larger of the on-site temples. She doesn't think the Dalai Lama is amongst them, though it's hard to tell as so many monks of a certain age look just like him. They should hold a Dalai Lama lookalike competition - everyone a winner.
Note to followers: Tomorrow evening we will be on the Jammu Mail again, heading back overnight to Delhi. I hope to catch up with more posts on Saturday. Richard
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