Ruby Emerald Saphire
You know, I never gave how one transports camels much thought. But it struck me that the best way to get them from one place to the next is via the highway. I didn’t just strike me that morning after the festival, rather the sight of camel herds walking one after the next on the shoulder took me by surprise.
The highway from Pushkar to Jaipur was pretty good. We only had one flat, but even that went bad after an hour, so another sutture was necessary. To fix a flat in India is quite easy. Just look for a little shack on the side of the road where a kid of no more than 18 sits ready for your utter distress. And would you believe, a tire can be taken apart by hand with two metal crobars! Belle Tire look out, the 30 rupee quick change is about to take over the world. Seriously though, these kids are quite skilled, but for the amount they recieve, its amazing that anyone can survive.
Jaipur is one of three cities in the golden triangle: Delhi, Agra, Jaipur. Meaning, that tour groups hit these three cities first when they come into the country. Jaipur is well know for a few things: the City Palace, the Amber Fort, and the loose gem stone trade. We hit all three, though, I hesitated to buy any loose stones because of my ignorance when it comes to understanding the business.
Gem stores advertised their location on every street corner. People say that you cant go wrong, but what would I do with a 3 Kt. Ruby? It’s hard for me to keep a watch on my wrist already. The best situation we landed in, was in meeting “papau” the nickname of a gentleman that owned a mediocre textile factory harvesting the talents of street children to produce wall hangings, and clothing for export. Jaypal had known him for only six months, but obviously, he either gave good commisions (many times in the form of gifts during the Diwali season ex. cellphones, watches, etc.) or Jaypal thought that he was fair on prices.
In Pushkar, Adam and I met several people that tried selling us expensive Pashmina. In the end we just took the information an prices instead of the products as comparisons for Jaipur, where they come from in the first place. We negotiated with Papau for two hours before settling on half-a-dozen expensive pashmina scarves, knowing full well what value we were getting. In addition, I had him create a set of duvee cover’s for me, which he had never tried before. They excited him so much that he created four of each, and sold them all to a British couple that came buy the next afternoon. Papau agreed to hire me on as a consultant if I had any other ideas for bedding. I was seeing into my own future: Orley linens.
Adam and I stayed at a heritage property that was still owned by the Maharaja himself. We had a large suite with period furniture and the original paint on the wall. It was quite extravagent, although the service was lacking for what we paid. Interstingly enough though, I was invited to crash a wedding that was being held on the grounds of the building.
This was no ordinary wedding. For one thing, we were at a pretty prestigious hotel, and the guest were all decked out in the latest Indian fashions. Woman in their best brightly colored silks, and the men in long colorful turbins whose tails reached their ankles. The suits were more like long coats with around twenty buttons reaching the knees. Topping it off were skin tight pants and ballet shoes. Must be something that I am not familiar with, cause people say that I am a snazzy dresser.
It all started when Adam and i were in the room with the door open. A woman with an American accent stumbled in and asked if we knew where the bathroom was. We said that she was free to use ours, as the old hotel was confusing enough to begin looking for another. Upon returning, she asked where we were from and how we arrived. It turned out that she was half Indian and married to a man in Houston, TX that knew the groom.
-Why don’t you come down and join the party?, she asked
Well, what would a trip to India be without an invitation to an Indian wedding.
I put on my best white shirt (a must while traveling- you never know when it might just come in handy) and entered the forey. We sat among a group of smartly dressed guys in their mid twenties all discussing political and economic current events in their best Brit-English. We exchanged greetings and I quickly became aware of the fact that this was no farm cooperative. The Maharaja of Jaipur’s son’s wedding? What a coincedence, I just visited the now defunct fort of his majesty. Although it is now in the hands of the corrupt officials there in Delhi- I exclaimed!
I turned to the gentleman beside me, asking him what his official business was.
-I am exporting scarves and shawls abroad, he answered.
-Tell him what your real title is, one of the guys from Calcutta insisted.
Well, to my left was none other than Chandrapol Singh Jonaw, the future King of Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, seventh wonder of the ancient world. Embarresed about his title, he quickly lowered his brow at the comment, and tried to keep his modesty. He was about my age, and seemingly shy, so I parlayed the surrounding anxiety into small talk about where to go in Agra, our destination the next morning.
-Of course, the Taj Mahal, he murmured. It should not be missed. The irony of the moments comment would only reveal itself the following evening.
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