Great Bittern in Keoladeo National Park

I visited Keoladeo National Park, Bharatpur over a couple of days in the middle of October 2013.
This is going to be a fantastic winter season because vast areas of the sanctuary are flooded - including parts that were dry in previous years. Ducks and waders have only just started trickling in, but there is already an unmistakable buzz about the place.

This post is just a short note to report the sighting of the Great Bittern (Botaurus stellaris) in Keoladeo.

When I relayed this information to some of the Naturalists at the park, their response was somewhat puzzling. A couple of the experts were aware that this species has been reported there earlier. However, most of the birders that I have contacted since my visit, and indeed from trawling the net for information on sightings in India (particularly photographs), it appears that the Great Bittern has remained quite elusive over the years.

This is not unexpected. Like most bitterns this species is very shy and secretive. Also it keeps extremely odd hours: being active from dusk right through the night. Its preferred habitat is dense reed-filled marshes. Being a migrant in the winter, not much is known about where it comes from and when.

I'm now going to flesh out the notes I scribbled the very same evening that I made the sighting.

Date : October 17th 2013
Time: approx 1730 hrs.
Clouds had rolled in and it was gloomy as I turned back for the day from the far end of Mansarovar lake. I was on a bicycle (which one can hire at the park). Actually, walking the bicycle on an embankment which separates the lake from the marsh / forest.
 Several dense trees (growing out from the edge of the embankment) overhang the tamarisk and tall reeds beyond. The tree branches are often at, or below, eye level.
Three largish 'heron-like' birds were perched low on different branches of a particularly leafy tree, not 20 yards from me. Two were quite familiar, naturally. First, an adult Black-crowned Night Heron, and the second, an Indian Pond Heron. The third was a much larger bird than the other two. My eye had been drawn to the unfamiliar. Even though I got a good look to register the plumage, it quickly flapped up to a higher branch and was now partly hidden. I backtracked a little to get a clear shot with the camera. This movement alarmed another individual hidden close by, which launched into flight away from me.

 The upper-wing markings were wholly unfamiliar!

 And it was calling in flight. A single note: 'aarr'. Repeated a few seconds later.

Rather excited by now, I turned my attention back to the first bird - prompting it to take off in turn.
There was a gap between the trees a few yards behind me, so I dropped the cycle and sprinted back.
This sudden movement obviously flushed another individual in the vicinity!
So now there were three birds on the wing - all calling in flight. They would have flown less than a 100 yards and out of sight, before I could train the binoculars on them. Damn!
However, the brownish barred upper-wing plumage clearly discounted the usual suspects - the herons.
No, it could not have been any of the other bitterns seen here either - all are much smaller, and somewhat familiar to me.

There you have it then... that's what I saw and heard.

Later, back home, I have checked through the bird guides and have matched the flight call on the xeno-canto website.
The only piece of the puzzle that doesn't quite fit is that there were 3 birds. Most bitterns are solitary.
Perhaps this was a pair together with a juvenile recently arrived as migrants?

Is it a big deal? I don't know to be honest.

But from what I have been able to learn so far, this is a bird seldom seen in India, and certainly only rarely photographed.

I would look forward to hearing from you if you have crossed paths with the Great Bittern in India.

sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in

A monsoon walk in the Aravalli hills

The Aravallis are a chain of ancient mountains stretching diagonally across Rajasthan. They also skirt past the city of Jaipur, and we have had occasion to explore some hills over the years. One of the things that strikes you is their sudden and complete transformation with the arrival of the monsoon. For many months of the year they are dry, rocky, sandy sentinels; looking down at the sweep of urbanization gnawing inexorably at their lower slopes. When the monsoon breaks, almost overnight the greenery bursts forth, with the hardy native plants trying to maximize their window of growth.

Today we have driven up to Udaijit's Dera Amer in the mist and the rain in Dushy's willys jeep. Several days of rainfall has caused forest rivulets to run, and waterfalls to cascade down from hidden folds in the hills that we intend exploring this morning.

Dragonflies and damselflies are plentiful in this season and I am keen to add to my list of species from Rajasthan. In particular, the brilliant sub-families of glories and rubies - many tending to favour forest streams, and of which I do not have any photographs.

 Yellow Staghorn Fungus - Calocera viscosa

Dushy makes this wonderful discovery of a type of jelly fungus sprouting from a tree stump. This is one of the joys of a walk in a forest in the monsoon. There is a great abundance of life forms, small creatures and wild plants that you are only likely to see over these weeks, until the rains roll around again next year.

Flame Lily - Gloriosa superba

In the dry months I wouldn't be able to find this species unless someone pointed it out to me. The plants lie almost dormant, virtually indistinguishable from the usual brown foliage. With the coming of the rains, the leaves tipped with clutching tendrils will clamber over the nearest plant; and the large showy flowers display their lovely colours. In the photographs above and below, this particular glory lily has climbed up a native thor or euphorbia.

Sesamum orientale ?

We have climbed up to some large rocks where a leopard likes to sun itself in the winter. Actually there is a pair of them resident in this area - one of the reasons that there are not many surviving dogs in the farms and habitations around here. These bell-like flowers were sprouting on tall stalks just below the 'leopard rock'.

Bearded Commelina - Commelina forskaolii

I love the scientific description of the 'winged stamen filaments' of the flower. They remind me a little of the tusks of a warthog! Though the analogy would probably make more sense if we appreciated the pugnacious nature of this 'weed': now carpeting the recently barren sandy soil with their rapidly spreading ankle-high stems studded with these tiny blue flowers.

White-naped Tit  - Parus nuchalis

The white-naped tit is now a rare endemic. We know of only a handful of locations around Jaipur that one could hope to come across this species. We have sometimes seen this particular species around Dera Amer, but only single individuals. Thus it is a delight to find 4 birds today. They appear to be two separate pairs, though from their vocalizations and behaviour it could be that these are a breeding pair with two juveniles. They are not very shy but the dense foliage and tangled undergrowth prevent a closer approach and taking of better photographs.

Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse

I have sometimes seen the painted sandgrouse around Jaipur, and only occasionally the chestnut-bellied. This pair above and the male below make an unlikely picture in this grassy habitat. They are mostly encountered in sandy habitat as their name suggests.

Nearby, two different species of quails are calling: one, a loud drumming akin to a motorcycle engine (this is the barred buttonquail), the other, a shorter, fainter sound (which could be the small buttonquail or the yellow-legged buttonquail - the latter still on my target list).

Eurasian Cuckoo

The Eurasian Cuckoo is a monsoon breeding visitor to Jaipur. We find a pair together. Even after getting a decent sighting and taking of photographs, it would be difficult to discount some other cuckoo species; but I have heard them calling on other trips and hence the confirmation as eurasian.

Large Grasshopper

This large grasshopper (approx 4 inches) was quite well camouflaged on the stalk of a spider lily.

A small fluorescent green grasshopper. The size varies from a fraction of an inch to this particular individual at perhaps one inch.

Painted Grasshopper

This photograph is from earlier, but we do get the painted grasshoppers in the monsoon too. Their colours and patterning would suggest that they would be more at home at a fashion designer's studio than in the wild.

Common Banded Awl

There are some butterflies that look more like moths; and vice versa. This awl (a family of butterflies) is a good example.

Great Eggfly (female)

One of the largest butterflies that we get around Jaipur. The male is perhaps prettier (than the female above) with larger blue patches on the upperwing.

Bright Babul Blues (Azanus ubaldus)

I would have to say that I find most of the 'Blues' (a sub-family of generally quite small butterflies) very difficult to ID properly. The few books available and the information available on the net tends to be vague (or too technical) in pointing out the subtle differences among similar species.

What came of our quest: searching for the damselflies? 

Well, we did try and look for them near a few hill streams - but I'm going to keep that story for a different blogpost about dragonflies to follow soon.

Meanwhile, if you can help me ID some of the 'unknowns' in this post, please do email me at -

sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in

The Missing Cellphone and the Lesser Florican

It started with a cellphone that went missing the evening before. No, not mine. It was my wife's cellphone.

I am going to sneak in a few details here, since this is my blog, and nobody else really has a chance to defend herself in print on this forum. Kind of unfair. But that's the way it is. I know this is a risk I'm taking - generally wives tend to get back at you in different ways if they think that you've made fun of them.

Now that we've got the rules of the game sorted out for the moment - let's get back to the case of the missing phone.

So when I got home from office that evening, the house was (well, not quite as yet anyway) in an uproar. The wife had commandeered the other phones at home and was in the process of calling her mobile number in an effort to locate the missing device. Quite the sensible thing to do: let the ringtone hopefully lead you to the reluctant object which is hiding somewhere in the car, or inside a recently opened cupboard. But the phone wasn't ringing. Even more puzzling were the different responses from the mobile service provider: one saying - 'this number has been switched off'; another, far more ominously, not saying anything at all but maintaining a deathly silence. Not good. In turn, I too was pressed to try calling her number. But we got yet another different response this time.

It was clear that my wife would have to retrace her movements over the past hour because she said, 'I remember making a call about an hour ago'. She had been home all this while, so that definitely improved the odds of finding it quickly.

And find it quickly we did. I don't know how many of you are familiar with the different kinds of error messages displayed by washing machines. I am not. It would appear that sometimes these are not dissimilar from the old days when desktop computers stopped suddenly; the monitor took on a bluish pallor; and strange sounds issued forth, to subside only reluctantly when you pulled the power cord from the socket. So, our washing machine  (and it is a most respectable and a dependable one), ground to a halt, beeped a few times, and started flashing a wholly indecipherable error. At this point, the penny obviously dropped for the wife. In a flash she had the lid open, briefly rummaged around inside, and then triumphantly held aloft the missing phone.

The phone, of course, had seen better days. Mysterious things had been done to it for the past half hour - some gently with water, and some, rather more vigorously, with soap. Quite clearly it was hors de combat.

Now, there is a very good reason I am telling you all this (even though the mystery has been solved already). This blog post is actually about our weekend trip looking for Lesser Florican and the Indian Bustard. So stay with me for a bit. Trust me. Though I may warn you that, in my experience, I have only a deep suspicion of anyone else who says 'trust me'!

The excitement of the missing cellphone had blown through on friday night, only partly distracting husband and wife in getting an overnighter packed; in charging the camera battery; in checking that the golf umbrella didn't leak, etc.

Saturday is a (half) working day for the two of us, so by the time we were on our way it was past 3 pm.  Not a problem; we had an easy three hour drive from Jaipur towards Bhilwara on the expressway.

We discovered we were without a cellphone soon enough. I had forgotten my phone at home. The wife's phone we knew was in several pieces, each soapier and wetter than the other. You only experience the handicap of a modern phone-less existence when you are travelling, as we were to learn shortly.

Our destination for the night was Fort Barli. Our hosts, Karni and Pallavi, had given us directions the night before. More precisely, I had been given directions. Let me confess that I am quite hopeless with directions.

Anyhow, we arrived Vijaynagar within three hours, being only slightly delayed by torrential rain (I mean almost complete white-out conditions). We had about 9 km to negotiate from Vijaynagar to Fort Barli. I remembered most of the directions, which seemed simple enough, but there was no way to recheck with Karni at this point. Yes, I know what you're thinking - why couldn't I find a STD booth in Vijaynagar and get confirmation. Several good reasons: but just one would suffice - cellphone numbers remain hidden in cellphones, which we were both without. No way of calling our hosts.

No problem, we could simply ask this helpful-looking rickshawallah the way to Barli.
 'Achha Buddly, just go straight from here' he said. That was easy.

We ran the usual gauntlet of any small Indian town: narrow streets through the bazaar; cattle in the middle of the road since only the middle is dry; across the railway track; until we arrived at an obstacle. The rainwater had collected in an underpass in our path. As we hesitated, a motorcycle rushed past. The driver, a youngster, clearly believed in the 'leap-in-before-you-think' school of thought. He raced through raising giant plumes of water, drenching only the pillion-rider. We followed slowly and carefully. A short distance ahead the water-skating champ's bike had stalled. His companion looked rueful, not so much because of his ruined clothes, but rather more, in that he would now have to push the bike to the nearest mechanic.

Our mirth, however, was quickly tempered by the realization that I had managed to get us lost.
'Nothing new' said the long-suffering wife. It would take us the better part of an hour to finally reach our destination for the night.

Let me add that the birding on sunday meant a pre-dawn drive of an hour to arrive at Sonkhaliya. The rest of the day also passed in a blur, culminating in our return home by evening. It was all quite tiring.

So tiring in fact, that I find myself unable to follow my usual birding trip template: describing the birds, and the lovely property we stayed in; our companions for the trip who had driven down from Udaipur (Happy, Anuradha and AVS); instead I'm going to sign off here with a wannabe haiku (apologies in advance to AVS - I still don't know the rules for composing a real haiku) -


Rain glistening grasses
Jaunty plumes wave in the breeze
In jumping display the florican croaks.


But before I let the Lesser Florican tell us a little bit about his life at Sonkhaliya, let me just add that you would find uniformly excellent reviews of www.fortbarli.com
at this link
http://www.tripadvisor.in/Hotel_Review-g1443432-d1378899-Reviews-Fort_Barli-Barli_Rajasthan.html
So you don't have to read a freeloader's feedback (ie., mine), when you can see what paying guests think of the place!

And now, over to the male Lesser Florican at Sonkhaliya ...

I have been visiting these grasslands over many monsoons now. This is my habitat. Perhaps it would be incorrect to call these areas grasslands any more. Every year the farms spread farther afield, the open mines gouge out the earth, and there are humans everywhere. The farms I can adapt to. To survive here I must. In some pockets of cultivation, I think, the humans use less pesticide. They call these crops moong and urad. I try and find shelter here. 

Oh, before I go any further, I must show you what I look like.

Yes, I know what you're thinking - that's not a good photograph. And yet I gave several opportunities this morning to the blogger - surely he could have done better.
 I'm hoping the other photographers will have done justice to my beauty. They certainly had huge lenses. I'm not so sure about the camouflage netting they wore though. But you get all sorts of humans here these days. They know our days are numbered.

Before you start feeling sorry for me, I'll let you in on a secret. I am here to attract the ladies. Most of us males are rather fond of the ladies, I'm afraid. We like to lay claim to our little territories. You wouldn't want to see me driving off a rival male. I can be quite rude. 

The only problem about attracting the ladies is that all of us have the same party trick. The earlier photograph shows me at the apogee of my jump. That's my courtship display. 

Of course, all this jumping about while sounding like a demented bullfrog is bound to attract more attention than just from the ladies.

 Some years ago bands of humans decided they would pick us off with shotguns. I'm not quite sure when and why this stopped. Rumours abound that one of the reasons could be that we are not very good eating. Perhaps because we like to eat just about anything, even the evil-smelling blister flies. You can't imagine what it takes to survive nowadays.

After I get the attention of one of the ladies, I'm going to try my luck with another ... and another! I am quite incorrigible you know. And all of this running around and doing my stuff makes me quite tired to take any part in parental duties. In any case that's what the ladies are good at. 

Later, I'll just fly off alone to my little secret place after a couple of months...



* Author's note (the blogger, not the florican!):
If you would like to see a list of all the other birds we saw, and whether we dipped on the Indian Bustard, you can always email me at sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in 

Summer birding in the hills of Mount Abu

Mt. Abu - early June 2013.

 The drive up to Abu from Udaipur is a smooth one on a relatively new expressway. As we approach Abu we pass a few tribal Garasiya and Bhil villages. The inhabitants of these villages were once pure hunter-gatherers, living off the forests. And so it is no surprise that several scruffy children are holding out bags of fruit for sale on the sides of the road. When we stop at a toll-booth, Namrata buys a handful of the 'berries', and only then do we realise that the fruit is the khajur. Obviously plucked from the many Phoenix sylvestris trees along the highway. What is sweeter still is to see the obvious delight on the 10 year-old seller's face for getting double the money he had asked for!

When we commence the final steep climb from the plains of Rajasthan up to Mt. Abu, we are glad it is a sunday. There is a steady stream of cars, mainly with Gujarat number plates, exiting downhill. These are the weekend visitors that throng this hill station in the summer. 

We are looking forward to the twin attractions of being hosted at Altus, and of exploring the forest in the wildlife sanctuary.

It is a great relief to be able to open the car windows as we finally emerge onto the high plateau. The plains were scorching hot at over 40 degrees C, but here it is appreciably cooler. 

Altus - entrance

Even before the family have a chance to explore the lovely property and the extensive terraced gardens, I immediately find one of my top birds for the trip. Right here at Altus!

Eurasian Blackbird - Turdus merula 

The Blackbird is a summer visitor to Abu. This individual has perhaps already constructed a nest in one of the dense trees dotting the grounds, and we are treated to its melodious song each morning that we are here.

Other interesting birds on the property are the jaunty Black-lored Tits, the more-heard-than-seen Brown-headed Barbet and Coppersmith, and Large-billed Crows in a running feud with a pair of resident Shikras.

In the evening the task is to climb a nearby hill in order to qualify for the picnic. The family is suitably warned that sloth bears and leopards are sometimes seen on the hill - but there is no danger to us being in a large group. These animals are largely nocturnal in any case.

We encounter several specimens of another special bird of Abu.

Red-whiskered Bulbul - Pycnonotus jocosus

This is an isolated population of this species found only in Abu. The next nearest distribution is from parts of central India and north India, hundreds of kms away.

I am on the lookout for the Eurasian Turtle Dove, but have to be satisfied with the other common doves including the Spotted Dove.

Spotted Dove

Steep ravines cut through the rocky hillsides and these are choked with karaunda and lantana. Abhiviraj is the only one who spots a pair of Red Spurfowl, but they scuttle away quickly. 

What we all do get a good look at, are a pair of the endangered Green Munia. 

Finally!

 I have come close to seeing them at other locations in Rajasthan a few times over the years, but these have been only just tantalizing glimpses, or hearing calls from inside of impenetrable cover.

They are exquisite. But also shy, and allow mere record photographs, before chirping off.

Later, as we enjoy our picnic at dusk, a pair of Crested Buntings hop about the hillside. A Grey Nightjar calls from a tree in the gloaming.

The lights of Altus welcome us back for the night.

                                                                   front verandah

                                                                  

                                                            drawing room (foreground), and dining room (back)

This is a heritage property which has been restored beautifully, and is now functional as a luxury homestay.

Next morning I am up at dawn. Cup of tea in hand, standing on the terrace, enjoying the birdsong. Idly, I look up. A Peregrine Falcon is flying fast and true. Not very high. I will him to turn, but he continues due east, arrowing towards the golden glow on the horizon. Wow!

This morning our first port of call is Trevor's Tank. But when we arrive at the gates to the forest, they are locked. A signboard says visiting hours are 9 am to 5 pm. Darn.

We drive on, past the Delwara Temples, then skirting the edge of Chhoti Nakki. When I stop to photograph a posing Oriental Honey Buzzard, Shaurya spots wild boar on a hill clearing. 

                            Wild Boar near Chhoti Nakki - three young ones not visible in photo

 

The road leads to Guru Shikhhar, notable for being the highest point in Rajasthan. En route, there is good birding. A juvenile Paradise Flycatcher is mobbing a crow in a copse of mango trees. We hear the dulcet calls of the White-spotted Fantail Flycatcher occasionally, and spot a couple when we stop to listen. Ascending higher, Silver Oaks proliferate, turning the area almost himalayan.

View of the Abu plateau from Guru Shikhhar 

Returning, we check in again at Trevor's Tank. While buying the entry tickets, I have an ear out for the calls of Grey Junglefowl. Also the Indian Scimitar Babbler, particularly since we are surrounded by dense clumps of bamboo which the latter species likes. But no luck with either for now. The forest in the sanctuary is quite interesting. However, it is too late in the morning to see anything of note. 

Shambhavi is the first to identify a purported rock in the lake as a crocodile!

Crocodile at Trevor's Tank

I am happy to add to my personal list of the dragonflies and damselflies of Rajasthan with a new species for me.

Black-winged Bambootail - male

Black-winged Bambootail - female

A soft knocking on a ficus tree alerts us to a pair of  Brown-capped Pygmy Woodpeckers.

In the evening Mt. Abu is lashed by the season's first pre-monsoon showers. Our plans for an outing are somewhat dampened, but we enjoy the continuing drizzle as the day draws to a close.

A small butterfly has been driven indoors by the rain. I am delighted to find that it is an old friend, once common even in urban Rajasthan, but sadly not any more.

Common Three-ring

And yes, when you count the number of spots, only the ones on the hind-wing point to the ID; not the large eye-spot on the fore-wing.

Before we depart next morning we have time for a quick stroll through Altus...

Common Gull on a coat-button flower

Altus - passageway

Grey-breasted Prinia

Chanoud Garh

We are watching the sky fill with stars as twilight fades to night. There is no wind; the only sound is the subdued rustling of insects on the salt pan. Conversation is redundant in this stillness. Time appears to slow down, as the starlight illuminates the surface of this vast flatland to a shimmering silver sea all around us. A shooting star blazes across the constellation of Orion.
An hour earlier, at sunset, we had crunched softly through the salt-encrusted sand, weaving between tussocks of grass,  and shallow nullahs, deep into the heart of this (now dry) saline marsh. Here the staff had assembled camp-chairs and served sun-downers.

salt-pan at sunset ...

Later at night , back in Chanoud Garh, we are welcomed by the rest of the family.
Jairaj, his wife Anchal, and his siblings Mahiraj and Swati, with the help of their parents, have been working for years to restore their family residence. Chanoud now has seven suites open for guests.

Night view of the mardana (gents) courtyard...

Entrance to the zenana (ladies) wing ... now the private residence of the family

We have visited several times over the years, and have witnessed first-hand the various stages of restoration. The oldest parts of Chanoud date back three centuries, and it has been continuously inhabited by succeeding generations. However after the Independence of India, it had suffered years of neglect. In the oldest wings (which have Marwar / Jodhpur and Mewar / Udaipur styles of architecture), soot and dust coated the walls, many rooms had bat-droppings littering the floors. Wooden beams supporting the ceiling, weakened by decades of water seepage, threatened to collapse. Furniture and carpets lay unused. The original  buttery 'araish' finish on walls was either crumbling away or had been covered over in slap-dash repair.

As we enjoy a late dinner in the open zenana courtyard it is clear that an almost miraculous transformation of the property has now reached fruition. We have been promised a full tour of the Garh in the morning.

At dawn, with the village awakening ..

Fortified with a hearty breakfast we begin our re-acquaintance with the property.
We begin with the Durbar Hall which has been restored and re-opened just days before.

                                                                   Durbar Hall 

This high-ceilinged room now houses paintings, photographs, trophies and other antiques. I have heard stories over the years of how many of these objects were literally salvaged from rubble.

Outside in the courtyard, Jairaj points out a stone carving panel depicting a scene of pig-sticking. This was obscured for decades by layers of limewash on the main facade ..

In many cases the original has been deliberately left untouched. Anchal gestures to the patina on this door, formed by years of having the natural elements work their unrelenting magic on a painted wooden surface. ...

Swati is a trained designer, and her creative imprints are everywhere - from the refreshingly liberal use of bold colours on walls, to the fabric and linen in the rooms.

Here is a typical suite with its own private jharokhas (balconies).                                                                            

Later in the morning Mahiraj is taking a couple of the hotel guests on a tour of the village, and I decide to join them as I have not seen the family chhatris (cenotaphs) and the baoris (wells). As we emerge from the passage to the front entrance, we can see an old woman at the fortified main gate. She has come from the village, and is pouring water from an earthen pitcher over the 'kada' (iron knocker), and is carefully collecting it in another vessel held below. I am as puzzled as are the foreigners with us. Later Mahiraj explains that the villagers believe the kada has curative powers. Possibly her sick grandchild would be made to drink this water.

 'kada' on the main gate

Village life is similar to other rural areas in Rajasthan, and all the little shops filled with jootis, bangles, fabric and such-like are a great delight for the tourists with us.

A house in the village

As they dawdle, I press on to the Chhatris. I have been told earlier of one in  particular, that of a much-beloved ancestor and his three ranis. Indeed some villagers have just emerged from it after lighting incense sticks. My grasp of the vernacular is just about adequate for me to understand their conversation. They have asked for his blessings in a new venture. This veneration and belief  has inspired the present Chanoud family to undertake a modern hospital project and other development and welfare initiatives.

 Chhatri 

Nearby are temples, small vegetable patches, and examples of the different types of baoris.
There is the ubiquitous circular, stone-lined shaft, from which water has to be hauled up by hand using a pulley. Another  shallower well has steps cut into the sides allowing access to the surface of the water; and a section from which oxen can be used to draw water. A third well is a true step-well, much larger and rectangular in shape, with its neat geometry of steps leading down. This is adjacent to the village lake. As I stand quietly in the shade of an ancient tamarind, I spot a group of pelicans on a small rocky island in the lake.

Great White Pelicans 

On my way back to the Fort, I pass some village elders who have started gathering for their daily ritual of sharing a smoke and passing the day.  I suspect the 'chillum' contains not just tobacco but possibly some other, more stimulating substance too!

Village elders socialising ...

Indeed, many of the young men from the village now work in towns and cities, so the majority of the resident  population consists of elders, children and ladies. This is a harsh, unforgiving land. A benevolent monsoon will allow a single crop to be cultivated in a year - mainly wheat or pulses. At this time of the year they are also harvesting mustard stalks, the yellow flowers having long dried in the hot March sun.

At lunch, which is served in one of the dining rooms, we are joined by several visiting family elders.

The painted walls of the dining room were covered over for years with whitewash 

This older generation shares tales of life here when they were children. An aunt remembers her Irish governess and life in 'purdah'. Jairaj tells her that they have recently found a secret passage connecting the residence of a former rajah to the room of his favourite rani in the zenana. Such instances of serendipity are now increasingly common in the restoration process. An abandoned trunk has yielded surprisingly well-preserved ancient tomes from the late 19th century. There are books on royal pastimes like pig-sticking. Superb calligraphy embellishes tales of Chanoud's history in another large book ...

Hand-written historical tales

Several historical references record a heroic, yet tragic tale of the Mertia Rathores (a clan of Rajputs), of which Chanoud is an integral and important part. When the Marathas invaded these parts of Rajputana, they cleverly exploited the divisions and distrust within the ranks of feuding Rajputs. A crucial battle was lost when the defending army was surprised at daybreak by the French General De Boigne's cannons, and they were decimated as they awoke. News of this carnage reached the Rajput cavalry camped nearby. These doughty warriors from Chanoud and other sub-clans chose not to withdraw in the face of this huge army. All four thousand of them, fortified by doses of opium, and with cries of famous victories before, charged at the eighty well-protected and entrenched cannons and the army behind. Most were cut to pieces by grapeshot. Yet several of them burst through the protecting lines and hurtled forward, sending the 'Marathas flying in all directions'. However, the cannons were reversed and quickly primed, and the returning warriors were shot down almost to the last rider. Songs are still sung in these parts of such tales of valour.

To my regret, I failed to take photographs of any of the several elaborate and truly memorable meals during our stay. But an abiding memory remains of the ' hara chana ka halva' at dinner on our last night. Earlier, driving past agricultural fields, an exuberant farmer had thrust some freshly uprooted stalks of hara chana in our hands. This was the main ingredient in the halva .

Here are some photographs of Chanoud that we took during our visit ...

Rear entrance to the Garh ...

An ancient, hand operated  room-cooler ...

The iconic, drought-resistant and long-lived tree of this area - Salvadora or Peelu...

Arches and jalis ...

Baghera looking out for his lately deceased companion ... in the 'noor' of the setting sun...

The front courtyard by day...

Arches were added to buttress the sagging stone beams supporting the ceiling...

The front facade of the Garh...

The zenana courtyard ...

Bathroom...

Wall painting in the private temple of a part-human, part-animal figure ...

Newer wing of the Garh - with Colonial influences...

 resident Barn Owl ...

Another Suite...

Approach to the salt pan - only 4 WD vehicles can make it here when it is dry!

The main entrance to the Garh ...

Child in the village...

Stone-pillared corridor ...

 Dining Room ...

Dawn ...

 email  -  sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in