Bundi, Rajasthan - over shadowing the small sprawl that is Bundi is Bundi Palace. It is perched on the Aravali Range, a multi storied towering edifice that has not been beautified as many of the other palaces have. It is ramshackle. Knowing the possibility of what was allows the imagination to fill in the blanks. Surprisingly what does survive is some very old and worn painting on interior structures that have survived looting, graffiti and the ravages of the weather.
To reach the entrance is a steep climb up a polished cobbled road that winds thrice, one elephant gate at the bottom and a second at the entrance to the palace. The Fort itself is further up again. Either side are remnants of what were shops in amongst the tumbled arches. Banyan saplings have taken a foothold in areas, poking out of walls and debris. Opening into a barren courtyard a bearer has lugged up a container of water to drown the stalk like small row of marigolds. The wandering purple bougainvillea is in full colour and obscures the entrances to parts of the building.
Exploring is the option. Up and down narrow staircases. A rope across the top of one informs danger, collapsed roof. Warning taken. Another set of stairs leads to above the gateway and looks over the township. Below is a sea of blue houses, indicating a strong Brahmin presence in the town. Strong to faded, the blue stops in a line of green, the horizon, desert acacia. Beyond it is quite barren and a dust layer sits in the air. At this height there is a welcome, strong, refreshing breeze. Up and down monster stairs, that meet no building standards, rabbits me through various sections of the Palace. At times finding the toilet holes in the floor, other times the kitchen area. The Royal suites are always the most beautiful with the best locations in the palace. An intricate water system once operated with many fountains creating a cooling effect throughout.
A whole room is held aloft on decorated pillars with elephant upper supports. Another has decaying mirror work throwing light in the room. Decorated recesses where candles or clay pots burning ghee would have sat, line the wall. Many of the other passageways are blocked or locked. The decay itself holds a charm and from a distance the whole is visually imposing.
To reach the entrance is a steep climb up a polished cobbled road that winds thrice, one elephant gate at the bottom and a second at the entrance to the palace. The Fort itself is further up again. Either side are remnants of what were shops in amongst the tumbled arches. Banyan saplings have taken a foothold in areas, poking out of walls and debris. Opening into a barren courtyard a bearer has lugged up a container of water to drown the stalk like small row of marigolds. The wandering purple bougainvillea is in full colour and obscures the entrances to parts of the building.
Exploring is the option. Up and down narrow staircases. A rope across the top of one informs danger, collapsed roof. Warning taken. Another set of stairs leads to above the gateway and looks over the township. Below is a sea of blue houses, indicating a strong Brahmin presence in the town. Strong to faded, the blue stops in a line of green, the horizon, desert acacia. Beyond it is quite barren and a dust layer sits in the air. At this height there is a welcome, strong, refreshing breeze. Up and down monster stairs, that meet no building standards, rabbits me through various sections of the Palace. At times finding the toilet holes in the floor, other times the kitchen area. The Royal suites are always the most beautiful with the best locations in the palace. An intricate water system once operated with many fountains creating a cooling effect throughout.
A whole room is held aloft on decorated pillars with elephant upper supports. Another has decaying mirror work throwing light in the room. Decorated recesses where candles or clay pots burning ghee would have sat, line the wall. Many of the other passageways are blocked or locked. The decay itself holds a charm and from a distance the whole is visually imposing.
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