JAIPUR LOVES ME

Often I have written and spoken about my love for Jaipur. When returning to Delhi after a recent visit, I was wondering why I love Jaipur so much when the answer came joyfully screaming back at me, ‘Because Jaipur loves me’!

Jaipur treats me as a young man. Our domestic staff there have been working with us since my mother's time and while she was ‘Mummy’ to them, I was ‘Bhaisahib’ and remain so. Nobody addresses me with the plain, formal ‘Sahib’, ‘Sir’ or ‘Unkilji’ as they do in Delhi! And Akhila is ‘Bhabhiji’.

At the same time, there is more respect in Jaipur. People are polite, courteous and deferential in contrast to the cold unconcern of Delhi. Diggi Palace is a stone’s throw from our house and a number of Rickshawwallahs pile up there waiting for customers. When I walk past, they all get up and do a ‘Namaste’. I usually take an evening walk on the green, green grass in the nearby Maharaja College and the watchmen, far from questioning me, respectfully greet me when I enter and if I get late, patiently wait for me to exit before closing the gates. The neighbours are all hospitable, warm and helpful.

In Jaipur, we feel welcome and wanted. I ring up a veteran 9 years my senior and he immediately organizes a dinner and calls other mutual friends. A former Navy Chief wants to play golf with me. Other friends and relatives ask when we are free to come over. In Delhi, no one gives a damn!

We go to a shop and the shopkeeper knows what we want and lays out a spread of ice creams and dark chocolates. We book a table at the Rambagh Hotel and the Manager is at the porch to receive us. At the neighbourhood Coffee shop, the waiter wonders why we are coming after so long. At Niro’s, the manager smilingly confirms that they still serve sundaes such as Honeymoon Special and Knickerbocker Glory which I used to have when in school in the 1950s. He sends one of each with his compliments.

To feel younger, I often walk down the street where we lived 70 years ago. The government house on 3 Hospital Road is still standing and the paint is not cracked and dry. I see the driveway where we used to play Cricket. If I didn’t have company, I just played alone in the verandah on the right by bouncing the ball on the wall and hitting it on return. Many India-Pakistan ‘test matches’ were played that way! And there’s the balcony where a kid relative of ours sleepwalked over the parapet, fell on the flowerbed down below, dusted himself and walked off nonchalantly. Shashi Mamaji named him ‘Kabutar’ which name stuck to him for life!

Sadly, ‘Ananda’, Pitaji’s own house on the adjacent Vivekanand Marg where we lived for over 50 years, does not exist any more but beautiful memories are vividly alive. Fortunately, Mummy built her house on a portion of the plot, so the air that we breathe and the ground that we live on are the same. It helps that Akhila also loves Jaipur. She is proud of her little garden which she tends to fondly and is gratified that her efforts are rewarded with fruit and flowers on each visit.

A visit to my old School, St. Xavier’s, is a must. The majestic multi-coloured stone building has me enthralled and I can feel Fathers Pinto, Mackessack and Mann graciously blessing me.

It is a record that during every visit of ours, and we average 4-5 a year, it rains at least once in Jaipur no matter what the season. In our recent 3-week visit in March, it rained thrice and the weather turned heavenly. Every evening, a peacock family paid us a visit and for our exclusive viewing, the male performed an extended dance show on the roof of an adjacent house while the female and siblings strutted about.

Yes, the feeling is mutual. I love Jaipur and Jaipur loves me.