A tour of Jodhpur is incomplete without a visit to the Mehrangarh Fort. The fort embodies the very spirit of the Rathores and its a treasure house of priceless relics miniatures, paintings, howdahs, palanquins and arms all displayed with an astute eye for aesthetics and history. A must-see feature of the fort is hand prints' on the inner walls of the big Iron gate. The handprints mark the final passage of the faithful maharani and ranis into the flames when they committed Sati.As trumpets blow and drums roll the maharanis would move towards the cremation ground. On her way she removed the ornaments and distributed them among villagers. The entire brigade of young and not so old princess performed sati. The mere sight of the handprints is so painful that the entire euphoria created by the fort tumbles into an abyss of depression. One can simply curse the king for getting married so many times.

One quintessentially obvious question that might cross your mind is- what the maharaja did while he was not on war. The Maharaja was engaged in expanding his vistas of cultural heritage. He took keen interest in arts and music and organized many colourful nights. He also had to entertain the unending parade of women who presented themselves for his sexual signature. Well! Now I understand the appropriateness of the clich Live life King Size.

The Rajas Ranis were all passably pretty but few of them were like an image carved on an ivory brooch. The tasteful, unostentatious manner of their dress would make them look lovely, desirable and completely unattainable. They too had to follow Parda system or the seclusion of women. Their security was always kept on unprecedented levels. The Rajas bewitching beauties would not let him develop trust on the lusty male eyes and therefore Eunuchs did their protection.

The wooden palanquin placed in the museum had an interesting story to tell. Once when the princess of Jodhpur went to England for higher education, the palanquin was used to carry the princess to her limousine. It was preposterously difficult for the London Press to grab even an inch of information about her. Their mounting curiosity was only able to capture the ladys ankle in the camera. This insane blunder called for an exothermic reaction by the Maharaja. The picture of His Highness Honeybunch would have stabbed his sense of lofty honour and consequently the Maharaja of the Rathore clan bought all the tabloid copies. Now thats what I club as exceedingly imposing illustrious Maharaja Style.

The Maharajas modus vivendi is revealed by the lake Palace- Udaipur. The Palace afloat on the still turquoise waters of Lake Pichola. The successive rulers used this cool haven as theirsummer resort, holding their regal durbars in its courtyards. The beauty of the elegant structure can fill up your senses.

The splendor of the bygone Royal era is also captured by Udai Villas. The Royal butlers descendents of the original palace look after all contemporary comforts and ensure that all foreign guests are treated with Royalty. It undoubtedly seems the lifes greatest indulgence, which is largely enjoyed by the rich white skin. If you have enough crispy dollars you are definitely a tempting pray for the prowlers on the move and if you dont have the wherewithal then you stay in the boat which would keep you 20 feet away from the premises. All the while I was in boat I so much wanted to be a rich NRI or for that matter a white American. ;-)

The flavor of royalty also helps to demarcate the merely wealthy from the seriously rich. It helps to examine the difference betweenthe value of USD and ISD. At a time when globalization bulldozer is swiftly flattening, I might sound like a cynical Rashtriya Swayamsavek Sangh member but candidly it doesnt feel good to receive step motherly treatment on your own land. I felt the slightest bit deracinated when the attendants of Umed Bhavan treated us with frosty spirit. I failed to understand what in blazes is the matter. Is it because we cant match the whites hip tip pocket skills or do we look less glamorous sitting around the table.

Reality for sure pierces our Maharaja size ego. I do not want to dig myself deeper into this mess. I being an intelligent jingoist wouldnt like to bow down. All I can say is that the Maharajas legacy at least owes us respect if nothing else.