March 2007

Jodhpur is called “the blue city” because of the many plastered homes that have been painted blue. It’s a deep sky blue, almost Wedgewood blue, and when seen from the vantage point of the fort on the hill, the areas of blue-painted houses look strikingly beautiful. There are various theories around the reasons for the blue colour, but the one that makes the most sense to me is that the Brahmins, who are the highest caste people in India, painted their houses blue to differentiate themselves from the other lower castes. I am not sure of the significance of blue in the Hindu religion, but Krishna, the highest god and the god of “all creation,” is always painted a similar blue colour. Apparently the blue colour also repels insects, but I think this is more likely a fortunate coincidence than a primary reason for the choice of blue as a colour. Now of course anyone can paint their house blue, and many do, which is a nice change from the natural mud-colour of the plaster, or the more usual dirty and stained white-wash.

The Temple Trinket Shop

We spent a good deal of time in the central market of Jodhpur, as always the liveliest spot in any Indian town. On one occasion we happened upon a chai and snack stall where a young man was mixing a cauldron of chai by dipping a large brass jug into the pot, and then pouring it, from a considerable height, back into the cauldron. The steam and froth thus produced was very effective, and the aroma was irresistible. So we ordered a couple of chais, in glasses please (the least dirty of the various containers available) and stood outside on the filthy littered street dodging the motorcycles, rickshaws, bicycles and cows because that seemed preferable to the even dirtier inside of the chai shop. What a place!

As I was standing pressed with my back against the wall of one of the adjacent shops, I noticed many brightly coloured goo-gas hanging from the door of one of the shops. Looking inside, I saw two men, one middle-aged and one much older (his father?) sitting in the only available space in the tiny shop, amidst a veritable sea of what looked like gaudy Christmas tree decorations. As it turned out, they were temple decorations.

The shop sold all manner of temple decorations which Hindus buy before going to the temple to give to their favourite god or goddess. In addition to many streamers and trinkets and baubles and bangles, there were also tiny costumes - dresses and suits - in many colours, and all liberally trimmed with gold and silver, for the idols. Some of the dresses were too small even for a Barbie doll. Others were large enough for a big teddy bear. I was entranced by the whole lot, amazed at the work that had gone into the making of these “holy suits.” I picked out several “for my grandchildren,” while Doug snapped photos of the boxes and bags of colourful items that the men pulled out of drawers and bags for us to see. Again we ended up sitting down to chat, although the two men spoke little to no English, so our “discussion” was primarily in sign language with the odd word thrown in. “Good” and “very nice” seem to be universally understood.

Typical decorations - colourful and glittery with lots of frills, beads and pompoms

At one point the older of the two men pulled a candy-cane shaped golden decoration out of a drawer and, unwinding a golden thread around its “middle,” demonstrated how that released a spray of thin golden streamers that turned the candy-cane into a “flower.” When we asked who made these delightful ornaments, the younger of the two men pointed to the older and said “my father.” The father beamed, and showed us a drawer full of the things, as well as another drawer full of larger ones. Of course we had to buy at least one, and now I wish we had bought more. They’re delightful!

Having bought one little suit for a male idol, the younger man started showing me mini-turbans, again for the idols, but none of them were small enough for a doll, so I declined, although I did admire the workmanship in the little caps.

And our Turban Tying Demo

With that, the younger man suggested that his father was the best turban wrapper in all of India, and could show us all manner of turbans. He called to a young boy at a shop across the street that sold the 5-9 meter strips of many coloured cloths that are used to fashion the wide variety of turbans we have seen here in India. The colour of a turban and the way it is wrapped tell what caste a man is from, what area of India he is from, and what is happening in his life (birth, marriage, death, etc.). It is a whole code that can be used to identify someone as precisely as our clothes, cars and addresses.

Holding the 9 meter cloth in both his hands, and first straightening it out and then twisting it carefully as he went, the older man wound the turban around his head, pulling it tight with each wrap.

He happily posed for a picture of the finished product, then lifted it from his own head and put it on Doug’s for another photo op.

Then he made a special one for me. He did three different wraps, clearly enjoying his prowess and the opportunity to show it off to appreciative foreigners. We all had a good time laughing and joking, especially at the “silly hats” on the white folks.

Even the shop keepers across the way were amused, one of them taking a few pictures with his cell-phone which, to his chagrin, were too blurry to make out.

It’s hard to say who provided who with more entertainment, but when we left we were all laughing, and we promised to send them the photos we had taken to be put on the walls of their shop.