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Adam BrooksNovember 26, 2009
Professor Gajendra KumarTheory, Culture, and Representation – Assignment 6
Anachronism from the Rooftops of Jaisalmer
The first walk through a town’s streets can be memorable, but to witness its whole
from above is often unforgettable. Anytime I reach a new and unfamiliar place, I make a
point to entitle myself to the view from its rooftops. Such a vantage point affords
perspective not only on the area’s physical development, population and space, but also its
identity. In the case of Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, its twists, turns, and dead ends aren’t merely
structural; they’re chronological. They are insights to the contrast between what was then
and what is now.
Fifteen hours train ride from Jaipur, the desert
town of Jaisalmer welcomes hundreds of thousands of
tourists, both Indian and foreign, every year. It was a
town of royalty for over a thousand years, into the
period of rule under those supported by the British
Raj. Traces of its grand history remain in the presence
of its many havelis and imposing fort. During the same
period, the town also enjoyed economic flourish as a popular trade hub for camel caravan.
Evident of Jaisalmer’s commercial history is the strong merchant culture that remains
today.
Following India’s separation from Britain in 1947, the royal family members of
Jaisalmer were not exempt from the loss of power seen throughout Rajasthan at the hands
of the newly independent country’s government. Titles were stripped, and property seized,
prompting some Maharajas to commit suicide. Furthermore, because much trade came to
the town from across what would eventually be the Pakistani border, its success as an
enterprising site was severely compromised by partition. Many workers who relied on that
trade had to leave Jaisalmer.
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For two decades, the consequences of India’s turbulent transition to sovereignty were
felt in town. Demoralization of royalty, decline of trade, and lack of water resources left
Jaisalmer in desperate circumstances. It wasn’t until after the 1971 Indo-Pakistani War that
development and economic wellbeing returned to the region. Indira Gandhi’s
administration saw Jaisalmer as a potentially valuable military asset, so it established an
air force base, laid railway, and supported water exploration there. By 1975, the historical
town’s government was ready to move towards a tourist-based economy. That year, the
first guesthouse was established. Most of the town’s early visitors were tourists stopping
over from other parts of Rajasthan, and before long, Indians were pouring in from all over
the country, and foreigners from all over the world. Thus began the anachronisms to
Jaisalmer.
Following three decades of tourist activity, today’s upper
panorama of the town truly reflects its contrast of times. From
atop my hotel— a former haveli, or royal Indian mansion— I
scan along the horizon, my eyes naturally following an up and
down zigzag. Reliance Mobile antennas cast shadows on roofs of
sandstone residencies with latticed walls. Dispersed throughout
the endless expanse of desert are thousands of wind turbines,
some of which have been adopted by Bollywood’s biggest stars
for the purpose of energy profit. After sunset, Jaisalmer Fort’s façade is accentuated by
ambient lighting more suited for the castle at Disneyland than a Rajput stronghold. I can
hear musicians bowing the sarangi— one of North India’s most prized classical string
instruments— from one direction, and sounds of the Netherlands’ superstar DJ Tiësto
booming from the other.
When parting ways with this striking, elevated vista for the night, I pass a curious sight
on my way back down to the less eventful ground level. A fuse box, which would have gone
unnoticed had it not been for the polished bronze knobs that cleverly adorned it, sits
halfway up the stone wall that lines the stairwell. Medieval circuitry? I give it a second look,
amused, and head for my room.
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The accommodation has been presented in such a way that intends to make guests, too, feel
like royalty. The ceiling runs high, with a bright red, silk canopy strewn across it. A rustic, but
nonetheless regal, tribute to the aristocratic hunting pastime decorates the walls in the form of
large spears and a faux tiger hide quilt. As with nearly all things here, I have found myself
surrounded by one big, hilarious schizophrenia of times. Across the room, lying on a desk fit for
only the most noble of old Indian scribes, is a menu from which travelers, weary from their
countless days spent crossing the desert, can order a Limca to their quarters. Beside my bed sits a
cabinet holding an extensive collection of glass bangles, and next to that a refrigerator with the
first ice tray I’ve seen since arriving in India three months ago. One must choose carefully
whether to use the single electrical outlet for the fridge or the large television, but I have bigger
questions on my mind: What if the kings and princes had been left to continue rule at the mid-
century? What condition would Jaisalmer and its people be in today if the war had not given
cause for its development? Just what age is this town in? Tired and confused, I flick off the
imitation lantern, switch on the ceiling fan, and fall fast asleep.
QuickTime™ and a decompressor
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