“Photo? Take my photo?” he says,
walking after us as we stroll towards the bridge on the Betwa. I oblige, and
the sadhu baba gives me a beatific smile. I wonder if money is now expected, realise
I’m not carrying any cash to give him and say something to that effect. He
smiles and says, “Beta I will never ask you for that.” I feel ashamed to have
suggested it.
This small town has more than its
share of saffron-clad men and women, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise
because this is after all basically a temple town. Jhansi, the closest big
city, is a mere 25 minute drive away – but the difference is dramatic. Orchha
is small and still retains the innocence of a place untouched by the hectic nature
of modern life. Oh sure you have the Tata Sky dishes and motorbikes and even –
so I hear – a local radio station. The market has signboards advertising
Italian cuisine, B&B’s and shops selling kitschy souvenirs. But the pace of
life here is slower, gentler. The locals in the market all seem to know each
other. Life revolves around the temples
and the daily aartis. Nobody hurries, nobody has deadlines. Nearly everybody
has a smile on the face.
A group of young boys watches as
Christine and I walk across the bridge, get some shots of the Chattris , and
walk back – just about managing to escape being pushed into the river by a
truck that has rumbled too close past us. When we reach them, one of the boys
shyly asks if we’d like to share a soft drink. We smilingly refuse and continue
on our way.
Orchha is a medieval town,
established in the early 16th century by a Bundela king (interestingly,
he died saving a cow from a lion). The palaces and temples of Orchha are reason
enough to visit, especially if you are a history buff like me. The fort here
has a number of palaces built during various periods of its history; Jahangir
Mahal for example was built as a welcome gift for the Mughal emperior Jahangir
when he visited. There is also a Sound and Light show held here every evening
which acts as a good introduction to the history of the town. I could have done
without the melodramatic death scene though....
There are many famous temples in
Orchha but to me perhaps the best sight here were the cenotaphs (Chattris)
standing in a row like brooding sentinels; these riverside memorials to former
rulers are now in ruins and still starkly beautiful. I stand and watch the sun
disappear behind them.
At night, the stars come out.
Standing by the river I look up and try to identify constellations. I think I
see Orion. I know for sure that it’s been a long time since I saw so many stars
in the night sky. The night is quiet, peaceful and I could well be all alone –
except for the half-full hotel just behind me.
We decide to attend morning Aarti
before leaving Orchha. The Ram Raja temple is the only temple of its kind – Ram
is worshipped here not as a deity but as a king. In deference to his royal
status, a pair of cannons is posted at the entrance of the temple. Sentries are
on guard duty outside and inside. We go in, a few minutes before the morning
Aarti is to begin. The temple courtyard is full mostly of locals, who from the
looks of it seem to be regulars here. There are of course also a few gawking
tourists like us. I have a vague sense of unease, feeling like an intruder – I never
visit temples if I can help it – but I soon start feeling better. Finally the sanctum doors are opened and the
Aarti begins; the bhajan being sung is one that I’ve never heard before, but
the entire congregation seems to know it well. They sing loudly,
unselfconsciously, with all their hearts. A mother picks up her toddler son to
allow the priest to touch his forehead in blessing. An old man is getting a
wedding card blessed by Ram raja. The bhajan goes on, soothing yet cheering. I
look around. I feel tears running down my face that I can’t stop. And finally,
after years of declaring I don’t believe in prayers, I find myself saying
one....
