Past Perfect
This article originally appeared in the Winter 2020 Edition of TOSS The Sheet—a local quarterly for art, culture and sustainability in the city of Jaipur
Nestled in the heart of the city, yet veiled by the curtains of everyday commerce, is Jaipur as it stood 300 years ago. I travel to this hidden city in the early hours of a chilly November morning with architect and urban planner, Nikhil Kala. Nikhil and his team guide me, and a group of design and architecture students from Pearl Academy, to Jaipur’s past through the trapdoor of its present–through narrow passages and arched windows into a kaleidoscope of lime-plastered buildings painted yellow, blue, and saffron.
We begin our journey at one of the oldest establishments of the Walled City of Jaipur, the Sitaramji Kalyanji Temple. Located next to the iconic Golcha Theatre, this 17th Century temple stood its ground even as buildings around it caved in to Sawai Jai Singh’s demolition crew, when the king sought to expand the city from the hillocks of Amer to the plain grounds. The flat roofs, the notable absence of a shikhar and steps leading up to a pedestal, defy the typical formula of a Hindu temple.
The gate leads to a cool and airy courtyard that once served as a school for children of the royal family, and local Brahmins. To the left of the courtyard stands the many-arched enclosure housing the deity Lord Krishna, and on either side of his idol are steps connected to balconies where women of the upper class sat observing the goings-on below through little domed windows. The floors and pillars, made of the native Rajasthani plaster Araish, are smooth, cool, and comfortable. This plaster––a combination of marble dust, lime (slaked for long periods) and natural pigments–– gains strength and a fine gloss over time, doesn’t crack, and maintains a stable temperature.
Departing from the temple, we head for a junction near Chaura Rasta––Dawa Bazaar (Medicine Market) or Film Colony, so called because film equipment was once sold here. Today, the place houses a phalanx of wholesale pharmacies. This junction was one of the few places in the city where mezzanines —the intermediate floor laid halfway between ground and ceiling––were first introduced. The extra level was used by traders to stock inventory.
We leave Dawa Bazaar for a parallel world in the adjacent lane that announces itself by sound. The faint clanging of metal beats a telltale rhythm by which we know we’re at Thateron ka Rasta. We make brief halts at several havelis en route. Their size correlates with their occupants’ social status: compact havelis crowd the middle of the neighbourhood, while the spacious ones luxuriate along the periphery.
Wending our way through the grid-like streets, we emerge on the main road of Kishan Pole Bazar where horse carts morph into automobiles, chaupals into tarred roads, and craftsmen into white-collar workers. We leave the past where it stands undisturbed, and plunge back into the Jaipur of the present, relieved to know that the portals leading to it, even if screened, are still wide open.
