disrepair. The roads are largely atrocious,telephone wires snake perilously closed tothe earth, city planning has devolved intopatterned chaos, and domesticated ani-mals roam the streets wild. Then therewere the posters advertising the Jain tem-ple downtown. If the sight of a large bill-boardshowingfull frontalmalenudity isn’tenough to make one spill morning coffeeon themselves, I don’t know what is.

But despite the overt, grey modernityof its neighbourhoods, there is somethingold-fashioned about Ajmer. The lakeschurn and blow cool, moist air, giving thequiet city a rustic feel. High,ornate colonial buildingsoccupy bluffs overlook-

the water body. While photographing our-selves in the famous posture of reading abook while floating on the Dead Sea, theenthusiasmforanon-swimmerlikemewasenoughtoforgetthebasicsoffloating.Iend-ed up letting the saline water get into myeyes, blinding me, and had to be rescued.

Rich heritageWe startedourjourneytowardsPetrawitha stopover at the crusader castle of Kerak.The Arabian fighter, Salahuddin Ayyubi,had captured it in the late 12th century.We spent the day at Wadi Musa, the townclosest to Petra. The whole of next day wasspent admiring Petra. The following day,we left early for Wadi Rum.

Wadi Rum, also known as The Valley ofthe Moon, is cut into the sandstone andgranite rock in southern Jordan.My fascination with WadiRum started when Isaw the

valley in David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabiaand the valley with its evocative Mars likelandscape ensured that it was worth thevisit. We roamed around the valley in ajeep. We slept in Bedouin tents but notbefore enjoying zarb — a dish cooked inan underground oven.

Our nextdestination was thecapital cityof Amman, which has a lively downtownofferingMiddleEasterncuisines,aRomanamphitheatre and a grand citadel.

On the last evening, we were invited byour Jordanian friend — a philosopher, au-thor, Reiki instructor and self-confessedhealer with the ability to communicate

8 DECCAN HERALD Sunday, August 9, 2015

SundayHerald travel Preserving religious heritageThe newest addition to the World Heritage Sites list, theSan Antonio Missions in Texas, US, is home to five 18th-century Franciscan missions that were built to convertthe native people of the Americas to Catholicism.

sacred pilgrimage sites for devout Hindusand according to the Padma Puraņa,Pushkar is the only place where Brahmamay be worshipped.

Hordes of western tourists and hippies,golden hair frizzled into unkempt afros sitin dirty juice joints, sipping smashed fruit.Under-dressed young women walk thestreets,onaneffusiveweedyhigh, followedby strange, swarthy men. The templelooms high on top of a long flight of stairs.I decline to enter and sit by a lassi stallwith three companions, an infantry cap-tain,hisbeautifulyoungwife,andasolitarylangur which stares.

Pushkar may be a place of God, but isalso a spectacle, a place where joints passbetween fingers as quickly as offerings tothe almighty. It is a place where legions oflistless young men and women take it up,waiting for ‘nirvana’ even as grave, devoutHindus pray for salvation. It was an experi-ence,oftenweird,outlandishandalittlesad,and when I left this surreal, hazy town, Ididn’t look back.

After Pushkar, it was seemed only rightto visit that other great place of pilgrimagein Ajmer — the Ajmer Sharif. I was first in-troduced to the world of Sufi mysticismthroughthestoryofNoorInayatKhan,thathalf-forgottenheroineoftheSecondWorldWar,who,despiteherpacifist ideals,foughtNazism.

The Dargah is a shrine to MoinuddinChishti, a man born in 1141 CE and reveredas a saint. Access to the Dargah is througha narrow winding street, where schemersand cajolers promise the world. A flight ofmarblestairsleadstoalargecourtyardwithfountains,stalls,waitingareas,tentsandthemausoleum. The devout congregate hereby the thousands, in prayer, waiting silentlyfor some imperceptible understanding.Here are Noor’s people.

Cameras are forbidden and althoughwecouldhavesurreptitiouslytakenphotosof that hallowed, inner courtyard, no onedoes. It seems cheap.

Back outside on the street, we are as-sailed by beggars. It is a level of begging Ihave never seen before. They yell andscreamatusinHindiandUrdu.Oneyounggirl, grubby and unkempt, follows me for akilometre, poking at the small of my backuntil I am sure it is no longer about themoney.Iamwarnedagainstpayingheroff.

“They will all descend on you if do,”warns the infantry captain’s wife, smiling.

And so it goes, the unruly mob follows,hurling abuses. Hindi was never my forteand I am oblivious of their taunts. I amlater told they accused us of everythingbut genocide for not proffering alms.

Ah,well, I think.Ignoranceissometimesbliss.

On the trail of absolutionAKHIL KADIDALpacks his bag andheads to Ajmer toexplore themystique ofRajasthan, a placeriddled with theremains of itscolonial past and ahaven forwesterners seeking‘nirvana’

When someone who is youngand male in India usuallyspeaks of Ajmer, they arereally speaking of Pushkar,with a sort of glint in the

eye, hinting of wild, hedonistic pleasuresto be had in this erstwhile holy town whichdraws hashish-loving westerners on thequest for nirvana.

ThetruthwasthatIneverreallyhadanyplans to go to Ajmer. Long before I everstepped onto a plane, long before I packedmy bags, I unearthed my 1946 NationalGeographic map of India to study thatquixotic northern state called Rajasthan.In 1946, Ajmer appeared as a pink sprawlin print, the largest desert “metropolis”ofits time, insulated from the burning sandsof the Thar Desert by the Aravalli Hills.

It resembled an urban monster andwisely avoided. But that thing about spon-taneous travel is that it leads to the unex-pected, and that is how I found myself onthe road to Ajmer.

Ancient & modernMy first impression of the place, set like anoasis with its two artificial lakes in the aridcentralplainsofRajasthan, isofanancientcitysomehowdissolving,metamorphosingand being eaten by modern India. An an-cient clock-tower inaugurated duringQueen Victoria’s Jubilee stands neglectedand lonely. A colonial-era administrativebuilding carrying the nameplate “PrinceofWales”,seemsdowntroddenandinnear

ingtheAnasagarLake.A whiffof Kashmirmanifests in the experience.

When asking what there is to see inAjmer, I am told to visit Mayo College.

“Never heard of the place,” I say.They look at me with stupefaction, as

though I have come from Mars.Mayo College, as I soon learn, is not a

college at all, but a school. Started in 1875by Lord Mayo, then the Viceroy of India,as a sort of Indian Eton to give princes aworld-class education, the school remainsa place for the best and the brightest inIndia — or perhaps the richest and most

privileged. Annual tu-ition costs Rs 4 lakh.

With its impressive

JORDANIAN ODYSSEY

Of mysterious desert moonsIt was early in the morning and we had

trekked over 5 km and climbed around1,000 steps. With the sun peeking over

the horizon, we were about to reach thetop of The Monastery, an awe-inspiringancient monument carved out of rocks inthe Jordanian city of Petra.

I congratulated Suhail, my travel com-panion, on being the first to reach thepeak, from where a majestic view of TheMonastery awaited us. But Suhail pointedto a Japanese traveller perched on arock and reading Murakami.However, that could notdampen our spirits as wetook the last few stepsto reach the top.

The astoundingsight of TheMonastery madeevery step weclimbed worth it.No wonder Petra,“a rose-red city halfas old as time”, isone of the seven won-ders of the world.

Rose-tinted cityPetra had been abandoned for cen-turies. It is famous for its rock-cut structureand was established as the capital ofNabateansaround300BC.Theentrancetothe city is through a 2-km-long gorge at theend of which lies The Treasury — a templecarvedoutofsandstone.ThemovieIndianaJonesandtheLastCrusadewasshothere.

The path from The Treasury to TheMonastery is dotted with tombs, gates,market streets, Roman theatres, templesand caves — all carved out of sandstone.

Our journey to this adventure-packedcountryhadstartedacoupleofdaysearlierat the Queen Alia International Airport.We were escorted to the cabin of the im-migration officer. Over a cup of Arabiancoffeeandacigarette, theofficerdiscussedAmitabh Bachchan. And finally, we were

greeted with open arms: “Welcome to Jor-dan, my friends from India.”

We took a short taxi ride to Madaba, asmall town mentioned in the Bible. Thetown is best known for Byzantine andUmayyad mosaics. The most famous ofthese is a large Byzantine-era mosaic mapof the Holy Land.

AnArabChristianfamily,thefatherbeingaJordanianandthemotheraSyrian,playedourhosts.Thefamilyhadfourkids,butthey

had invited their relatives for a ren-dezvous with us. We discussed

Bollywood, Indian TVsoaps, the problems of

common people of theregion, the Arab-Is-rael conflict and thewar in Syria.

We were servedthe national dishof Jordan —mansaf. The namecomes from the

term “large tray” asit is served in such a

utensil. The lamb iscooked in a broth made

with a fermented then driedyoghurt-like product called

jameed,andservedwithalayerofflatbreadtopped with rice and meat, garnished withalmonds, pine nuts, spices and herbs. Ourdiscussions continued well into the nightover Arabian deserts, snacks, mint tea andsheesha.

The next day, we headed to Petra. Wetook a more leisurely King’s Highway,which winds its way along numerous ser-pentinecurvesandhairpinbendsandgoespast biblical sites, crusader castles, deepgorges and nature reserves. Mount Nebowas our first destination, which, accordingtocertainChristianandMuslimtraditions,is the burial place of Moses.

OurnextstopwastheDeadSea,thedeep-est hyper saline lake in the world. Becauseof its high density, it is possible to float in

ASTOUNDING AJMER

collection of Indo-Saracenic architectureset among the sprawling grounds of man-icured Bermuda grass, azalea, kadam,neem and Java plum, the college seems tohave greater numbers of wild peacocks,hornbills and egrets than it does students.It’s one of those places stuck in time. Youjust hope it never changes.

Weareinvitedtodinewiththeprincipal— an alumni and former Indian Army Lt-General, a commander of an armouredstrikecorpsthisorthat.Heisahearty,wel-coming man; large and gregarious, with agrinding handshake. Watercolour paint-ings of cavalry regiments and tank forces

dot the verandah of his official residence.I’d like to discuss armoured tactics withhim, but it is a stiff party and the repeatedglasses of rum which I use as an elixiragainst a sore throat, start to take effect.Three hours later, all I can think of is bed.

In search of ‘nirvana’Next morning, as we drive to Pushkar, 11km away, I daydream of Mayo. It wouldmake a fine setting for a realistic drama —of a poor student admitted on a scholar-ship and forced to prove his mettle; of anidealistic, unconventional teacher whocaptures the admiration of his studentsbut the ire of the management. I broachthe idea to my friends. Someone suggestsI write a screenplay and get Irrfan Khanto play the teacher and cast Dharmendraas the principal. I have to admit that it’s acharming idea.

Pushkar, set on the other side of thegreen Aravalli Hill range, is prosaic bycomparison. It is largely a one-camel townwith a series of winding small roads, cater-ing to the tourist trade. The shops are setin pattern. The first sells metal and ceram-ic handicrafts, the second sells ethnicclothing, thethirdsells ornamentalknives,the fourth leather goods. And so the pat-tern repeats. The town is one of the five

SIGHTS & SOUNDS Devotees onthe banks of Pushkar Sarovar;(below) Mayo College.

Other attractionsn Baptism Site: A pilgrimage spotalongside River Jordan at the placewhere Jesus was baptised, commem-orated by dozens of ancient churchesand hermitages.

n Jerash: A spectacularly well-pre-served Roman city, completewith colonnaded streets, grandtemples, intimate marketplacesand mosaic-floored churches.

n Umm Qais: Atmospheric Romanand Ottoman site in the far northof Jordan, offering spectacularviews over the Sea of Galilee,and relatively few tourists.

n Madaba: This easygoing Christianmarket town near Amman was acentre for mosaic art in theByzantine period. Roam itssouks and take in thesplendour of an-cient mosaics.

with the dead — to his father’s birthday.We gorged on Arabian sweets with knafeh(a cheese pastry soaked in sugar syrup)being my favourite. We were amazed bythe knowledge of the guests about Bolly-wood of the 70s and 80s. Many of thembelted out songs from Deewar and AmarAkbar Anthony.

We left this country of wonders, myths,history and religion with happy memoriesand lifelong friends, carrying red sandgrains in our pockets. On the way to theairport,ourtaxidriversaid Shahid Kapoorwas the “King of Romance”.SHARIQUE CHISHTI

LOST CIVILISATIONS (From left) ‘Knafeh’, aJordanian delicacy; rock formations at WadiRum; the city of Petra. (PHOTO BY AUTHOR)

BUT DESPITETHE OVERT,

GREY MODERNITY OFITS NEIGHBOUR-HOODS, THERE ISSOMETHINGOLD-FASHIONEDABOUT AJMER.