A road trip is always a pleasure. To be in charge of how you travel, the sights to linger over, the music to listen to and the feel of road beneath your wheels is an amazing feeling. It cannot be described, only felt.
Travelling on highways in India can be a bit of a mixed experience; it is very symbolic of how we Indians work - things work, only not quite the way they are expected to. People, in general, expect you to overtake from the left. It can be quite frustrating to drive on a good two-lane road on the fast lane to arrive behind a ponderous truck which simply refuses to give way. He suddenly realises you would like to overtake him and starts flashing his left indicator. You feel relieved that he has decided to move to the left lane and then after a while realization dawns. By flashing his left indicator he is asking you to overtake him -- only from the left. After a while one gets used to this and you don't even bother, just honk once and keep overtaking from the left.
Amazingly, the moment it gets dark, almost all of the trucks move into the left lane to allow you to overtake from the right. The worst vehicles on the road, worse than the Sumos, are the Maruti 800s and Zens. You almost need to achieve Zen to be able to deal with them. They behave as if they were the zippiest vehicles on the road, cut in and out of traffic, hog the fast lane and generally make nuisances of themselves. Their faith in themselves is touching, if a bit misplaced. Most accidents seem to involve Sumos, 800s and Zens.
Madhya Pradesh certainly seems to be more caring of its archeological heritage than Maharashtra. Whether it is Elephanta or Ajanta or Ellora; almost all of these places are well endowed with hand drawn hearts lovingly disfiguring the walls.
It really makes one wonder. We have all these very vocal defendants of Indian culture. Rarely does this defense have anything to do with defending our Indian cultural or historical heritage. In fact, quite often, one finds the foot soldiers of this great war to protect our culture to be the greatest wall decorators. A visit to a historical site in Maharashtra is incomplete without being treated to some raucous singing or some other generous expression of general well-being by those selfsame foot soldiers. This is of course without any consideration for the improvements they make to the general decor. Littering, of course, like swaraj, is a birthright.
Despite all of this, seeing what was created thousands of years ago is a humbling experience. The knowledge of geometry, of trigonometry, of stress factors and vectors and most of all the imagination and devotion demonstrated by the rock-cut temples at Ajanta and Ellora is quite frankly mind-boggling. The chaityas cut from rock that look like they are made of wood. The smooth rock ceilings that give the illusion of being a colorful cloth ceiling swaying in the wind, the three dimensional images whose eyes follow you as you move around, the sheer vibrancy of the images and sculptures, the brightness of the colours, the overwhelming impression of the Kailash temple are images that remain.
Aurangzeb's grave at Khultabad is also humbling, but for a very different reason. Here was a man, who ruled over almost the whole of the sub-continent. His son, Bahadur Shah I also was a powerful emperor. Despite that, his grave is extremely simple. In fact, all the decoration on the grave was done in the early 2oth century on the orders of Lord Curzon. The grave of Shaikh Burhan ud-din Gharib Chisti, in the same complex is far more ornate.
For our tireless and intrepid guardians of Indian (sorry Hindu) culture of course, preserving something like the Bibi-Ka-Maqbara is certainly not a priority. There is a rudimentary garden of course, but nothing like what it could be with some imagination and care and much less money. The monument, built as a copy of the Taj Mahal, shows what the Taj could have been reduced to without the care that is lavished on it. With some care, BKM could be absolutely mind-blowing.
In Madhya Pradesh, the roads that lead to a Khajuraho or a Sanchi or even to the wildlife reserves are terrible, while the preservation and conservation efforts, while if not perfect, are certainly very good. In Maharashtra, the reverse holds true. Roads in Maharashtra are built not only to support tourism, but also industry. In Madhya Pradesh, since there is little industry, the need for good roads probably has not become dire.
What this means is two things. Firstly, infrastructure in India follows demand; the notion that good infrastructure can create its own demand is yet to take hold. And secondly, other than some well-intentioned lip-service, the effect that sustained tourism can have on an economy is something that just does not appear to have been accepted here.
Travelling on highways in India can be a bit of a mixed experience; it is very symbolic of how we Indians work - things work, only not quite the way they are expected to. People, in general, expect you to overtake from the left. It can be quite frustrating to drive on a good two-lane road on the fast lane to arrive behind a ponderous truck which simply refuses to give way. He suddenly realises you would like to overtake him and starts flashing his left indicator. You feel relieved that he has decided to move to the left lane and then after a while realization dawns. By flashing his left indicator he is asking you to overtake him -- only from the left. After a while one gets used to this and you don't even bother, just honk once and keep overtaking from the left.
Amazingly, the moment it gets dark, almost all of the trucks move into the left lane to allow you to overtake from the right. The worst vehicles on the road, worse than the Sumos, are the Maruti 800s and Zens. You almost need to achieve Zen to be able to deal with them. They behave as if they were the zippiest vehicles on the road, cut in and out of traffic, hog the fast lane and generally make nuisances of themselves. Their faith in themselves is touching, if a bit misplaced. Most accidents seem to involve Sumos, 800s and Zens.
Madhya Pradesh certainly seems to be more caring of its archeological heritage than Maharashtra. Whether it is Elephanta or Ajanta or Ellora; almost all of these places are well endowed with hand drawn hearts lovingly disfiguring the walls.
It really makes one wonder. We have all these very vocal defendants of Indian culture. Rarely does this defense have anything to do with defending our Indian cultural or historical heritage. In fact, quite often, one finds the foot soldiers of this great war to protect our culture to be the greatest wall decorators. A visit to a historical site in Maharashtra is incomplete without being treated to some raucous singing or some other generous expression of general well-being by those selfsame foot soldiers. This is of course without any consideration for the improvements they make to the general decor. Littering, of course, like swaraj, is a birthright.
Despite all of this, seeing what was created thousands of years ago is a humbling experience. The knowledge of geometry, of trigonometry, of stress factors and vectors and most of all the imagination and devotion demonstrated by the rock-cut temples at Ajanta and Ellora is quite frankly mind-boggling. The chaityas cut from rock that look like they are made of wood. The smooth rock ceilings that give the illusion of being a colorful cloth ceiling swaying in the wind, the three dimensional images whose eyes follow you as you move around, the sheer vibrancy of the images and sculptures, the brightness of the colours, the overwhelming impression of the Kailash temple are images that remain.
Aurangzeb's grave at Khultabad is also humbling, but for a very different reason. Here was a man, who ruled over almost the whole of the sub-continent. His son, Bahadur Shah I also was a powerful emperor. Despite that, his grave is extremely simple. In fact, all the decoration on the grave was done in the early 2oth century on the orders of Lord Curzon. The grave of Shaikh Burhan ud-din Gharib Chisti, in the same complex is far more ornate.
For our tireless and intrepid guardians of Indian (sorry Hindu) culture of course, preserving something like the Bibi-Ka-Maqbara is certainly not a priority. There is a rudimentary garden of course, but nothing like what it could be with some imagination and care and much less money. The monument, built as a copy of the Taj Mahal, shows what the Taj could have been reduced to without the care that is lavished on it. With some care, BKM could be absolutely mind-blowing.
In Madhya Pradesh, the roads that lead to a Khajuraho or a Sanchi or even to the wildlife reserves are terrible, while the preservation and conservation efforts, while if not perfect, are certainly very good. In Maharashtra, the reverse holds true. Roads in Maharashtra are built not only to support tourism, but also industry. In Madhya Pradesh, since there is little industry, the need for good roads probably has not become dire.
What this means is two things. Firstly, infrastructure in India follows demand; the notion that good infrastructure can create its own demand is yet to take hold. And secondly, other than some well-intentioned lip-service, the effect that sustained tourism can have on an economy is something that just does not appear to have been accepted here.
