With a long history of royal patronage, Jaipur has an impressive tradition of craftsmanship that produces the most extravagant goods for everyday uses – whether gold and silver jewellery, decorative textiles, brass and silverware, leather goods, or even handmade paper. We decided that paper – given the importance of stationery in our lives – would be an interesting topic to explore, so we set out on a trip to Kagzi paper production factory, which began its life producing paper for use in the royal court, and now produces for both the domestic and global markets. During this brief tour of their facility, we learned about the history and methods of traditional papermaking in Jaipur.

We were surprised to learn that this method of papermaking was brought to India during the 16th century by invaders from Central Asia. In prisons in Bokhara and Balkh, Chinese inmates had already demonstrated their skill in producing paper from natural waste. The fact this paper proved to be strong, durable and resistant to alteration or forgery, and could be produced in large quantities, led Babur – the first Central Asian invader to settle down in India and create what came to be known as the Moghul Empire – to encourage some of his men to learn this skill from the Chinese prisoners for use by the Moghul court in India. All court papers came to be prepared on the paper so produced as also, gradually, manuscripts and other related articles used by the educated citizenry. Prior to this introduction of paper, writing in India was carved on stone (e.g., Emperor Ashoka’s edicts), handprinted or painted on fabric (e.g., pattachitras), or etched on palm leaves (e.g., Hindu and Buddhist manuscripts).

The present-day Kagzi family in Jaipur (the name kagzi itself means “paper maker”) traces itself back to the settlers who travelled to India with Babur’s army and who had learnt the craft from the Chinese. Papermaking requires an unlimited supply of water and solid raw materials. Initially located in the district of Alwar (a little south of Delhi, in present day Rajasthan), the Kagzi family moved to Jaipur when water in Alwar became a scarce resource. They were also encouraged by an invitation from the kings of Jaipur who promised them court patronage and an abundant supply of water (the Dhundar region of which Jaipur is a part has always been a well watered one). The kings of Jaipur had entered into an early peace treaty with the Moghul court of Delhi, which resulted in a considerable amount of cultural exchange between the two kingdoms.

Unwanted scraps of fabric come from all over India and are shredded here in Kagzi to make paper

Today, the Kagzi paper factory recycles unwanted scraps of pure cotton fabric (from garment factories in different parts of India) and paper in any form (handmade, machine-made, cardboard) to make beautiful and durable handmade paper. Using simple indigenously designed machinery, these raw materials are finely shredded and then pulverized into a watery pulp (e.g.,70 kg. of shredded fabric or fabric-cum-paper mixed continuously in 400 to 500 litres of water for over 4 to 5 hours produces the required pulp). Where required, natural colour (or a bleaching medium) is added to the water. The water is re-used until it cannot be re-used any further. The resulting pulp is then manually spilt onto a sieve to form a smooth and thin layer, which is covered with a thin piece of loosely woven cotton fabric. This fabric helps separate one layer from another when they are placed on top of each other. The men who do this have a good idea of how thinly the pulp needs to be spread to create the required thickness of paper. Where the paper is designed to have extra design detail, other natural materials such as grasses, pieces of silken thread, flower petals etc., are sprinkled onto each layer of sieved pulp, before being covered with cotton cloth.

Two men flip over a newly produced sheet of paper that has been formed by thinly spreading pulps of recyclables over a net

The layers are then pressed down by a machine press which serves to extract the remaining water from paper-in-the-making. The next step is the careful peeling off of layer upon layer of cloth to reveal the ready but still-damp paper. This work is done by women. After this, the cloth pieces go back for re-use until they can e re-used no further.

At this stage, further design variations may be introduced. For example, if the paper requires to have a creased look, each sheet is crumpled up by hand after removing the fabric and then straightened out again. In any case, at this stage, all the sheets go through a flattening process by being placed manually between two iron sheets and put through a machine roller, which produces a final crisp and fully dry product (the ones that were crumpled retain the lines of the creases in their smoothness). If screen printing or embossing is required, it happens at this stage. The sheets then go through a cutting machine for the final size and knife edges.

The Kagzi factory exports much of products to different parts of the world – sheets to the U.K., U.S., Japan and the Middle East, customized printed products to large department stores such a Tesco and Target; it also supplies shops and designers in the Indian market.

In summary, the handmade paper industry not only has an illustrious history, it is also an ecologically sensitive industry (prevents de-forestation as it uses non-wood pulp, recycled cloth, paper waste, flowers and grasses, and is non-polluting as it is acid free. Being labour intensive, it is suited to generate employment among India’s large rural population. It is also energy and water efficient, and requires low capital investment as it also uses simple and totally indigenously designed machinery.

"The sky over Savista on a winter's morning"

One of our Team@Savista – a native of the U.S.- remarked with wonder at the climatic diversity in Rajasthan that she was able to observe over an eight month period here, and announced that we should surely do a blogpost on this aspect!  We have also observed  that several of our Western guests arrive with a bland view of India as a uniformly “hot” country round the year (with, perhaps, the exception of the Himalayas which, again, are often mistakenly believed to be uniformly snow-covered).   

So, here we are with a little note on the nuanced nature of the seasons in this part of Rajasthan.   We have several seasons – a few long ones and a few short ones.  The two really significant ones – the polar opposites - are summer and winter. The rest of the year is peppered with shorter seasons, within which are embedded further sub-seasons.

Summer is the longest season (three months, from mid-April until mid-July), when the climate is unrelentingly hot and dry, approximating desert conditions.  During the day, the sun’s rays are sharp and brilliant.  But, as in the desert, midnight to early morning temperatures could even drop to cold.

Winter (around eight to ten weeks, from mid-December until end-February) is cold and crisp in the mornings and evenings, with late night temperatures dipping sometimes even to zero.  Day-time temperatures, though, could be quite warm. 

Close on the heels of summer come the life-giving rains (around six weeks, from mid-July until end-August).  The rainy season in Rajasthan is not the ‘monsoon’ that one associates with other regions in the country.   It is  more  a period of dramatic cloud formations, loud claps of thunder and intense bouts of lightning.  Teasing clouds may appear in the skies for days on end, with not a drop released.  And showers when they occur may tend to be few, short and hesitant, leaving the earth feeling dry within minutes of their appearance.  In a good year, where the summer has gone through several strong dust/sand storms (called aandhis),   many of these short showers could be heavy, accompanied by gusty winds and madly swaying trees, and could even cause flash floods.  But whether weak or strong, these showers – even the weakest – can make nature come incredibly alive as nowhere else in the country, with multiple shades of brilliant green covering every inch of the ground.  By and large for humans, this is a season of long and pleasantly-cloudy days, when outdoor temperatures are comfortable.  

 The rains are followed by a ‘short summer’ ( of around two to three weeks, roughly early-September until end-September or early-October).  This is a season of humidity – the only one of its kind in this region – when the recently-nourished earth goes about its business of regenerating life. There is an explosion of insect life within the dense young grass and vegetation that the rains had set off.   And in turn, the availability of insects  supports a proliferation of bird-life as there is plenty of food to feed the newly-hatched chicks sitting out the rains in their precariously swaying nests.  Without too much labour, parent birds help their chicks grow strong and learn to fly away.  For humans, this is a great birding season.

It is a relief when autumn ( eight to ten weeks, early-October until early-December) dawns cool and lovely.  Long balmy days and cool nights, ideal weather for exploring the outdoors or relaxing in the shade of the spreading trees.    Both insects and birds have by now come to terms with their respective life cycles.  Trees stand testimony to abandoned nests, some trees completely festooned with the intricate hanging nests of the Baya weaver bird.  The cooler weather acts as a dampener on population explosion among insects.  Butterflies and sunbirds take the place of insects as the royalty of the outdoors, as colourful flowers begin to bloom everywhere and the trees continue to wear their mantle of green. This is one of the loveliest seasons in this part of Rajasthan. 

Matching autumn in every respect is spring (six weeks, early-March until mid-April), that comes after the winter, when the days and nights are cool and flowers bloom everywhere. .  Alas, an all-too-short season. But it is a period of festivity and celebration culminating in the uniquely north Indian spring ‘festival of colours’ called Holi. 

Embedded in the spring and winter are two  mini-seasons of Fall, when many of the  local trees shed their old leaves to make way for new ones.  In late spring as the heat of summer begins to make itself felt,  the Neem, Gulmohur, Lesva, Kesariya-shyam, Palash, Jacaranda and Karanji begin to uncover their branches.  This allows the birds to show themselves off on the bare branches and send out their mating calls.  In early winter it is the turn of the Khejri trees to shed their aging yellow leaves leaves and almost simultaneously sprout tender green ones.  Embedded in mid-summer is a season of strong desert sandstorms (aandhis) that create the conditions for plentiful rains.

                                                    Sunrise Over Savista

                                         (Photo by Signe Wolsgard Kroyer)

”We cannot have harmony and balance in our lives if we forget to include the earth and natural rhythms in our lives.

Nature, in all its myriad forms, is the most powerful force on earth. Although mankind has tried, we have not found a way to match its awesome power, but we have found ways to work with it. Science often confirms the wisdom of the ancients who observed and then harnessed nature’s rhythms and cycles to shape and enhance their lives. We can begin to do this in our own lives by first paying attention to our own natural rhythms, such as when we wake or when we feel the need to sleep. If possible, we may want to try to rise and sleep with the sun or live without electricity for a weekend and then monitor how we feel. We can make the choice to eat the foods of the seasons and to seek fresher, locally grown, or organic produce whose own cycles have not been tampered with by technology.

We can create harmony in our homes by making a smooth transition between our indoor and outdoor spaces. By bringing some of the outdoors inside and taking some of our indoor décor out, we can simultaneously enjoy nature and the comforts of home and the feeling that our living space is expanded. Then, whether inside or out, we can lounge on a comfortable piece of furniture and feel the wind, inhale the scent of deeply breathing plants, listen for the many songs of life, and observe the moon and the stars. As we do this more often, we may find ourselves noticing the pull of the full moon on bodies of water, as well as the water in bodies, or the music of the night acting as a lullaby.

When we seek balance in our lives, we want to balance not just our roles in life but also the natural elements in our spaces. Having representations of the elements in the colors, shapes, and textures of our homes will appeal to our mind, body, and spirit. We may find that when we sync ourselves with nature’s rhythms, we ride the waves of energy to feel more in harmony with life and the world around us.”

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 The above piece was sent to us recently by one of our well-wishers (“Daily OM”).  And the picture of “Sunrise Over Savista” by another friend (thank you, Signe).

 It is possible for all of us to establish connections with nature… in small or big ways, and  wherever we may happen to be.  At Savista, we feel grateful for the opportunity to experience the rhythms of nature in this little corner of India.  Whether in our traditional architecture, where our courtyard brings the sun, moon, stars, trees and birdsong right into the haveli … our interior décor, where we extensively use materials and colours from nature…  our diverse open and enclosed spaces, which we try to creatively adapt to the dictates of the weather and seasons… our weakness for flickering candles  and oil lamps,  that help us stay in harmony with starlight in the late evenings … or our homegrown/locally sourced food that makes us feel close to the earth…Life at Savista brings with it a lot that is good about nature. 

But there is also the ‘bad’, that we have learnt to take in our stride.  It has helped us learn the wisdom that what is “bad” for us – comfort-loving humans – is almost always “good” for nature (which is probably why the “bad”  is there in the first place! ).   

For example, we remain open to guests for only eight months of the year, when the weather is cool and comfortable; this means losing business for the remaining four months of the year.  But we have come to terms with the loss of revenue, rather than opt to keep our air-conditioners running 24/7 through the summer months, involving profligate use of energy.  Paradoxically, starting spring and through the summer are when the birds are at their busiest, which makes it the ideal bird watching season!

Again, during phases in the hot summer,  we have to cope with masses of sand flying into our open-air pool, due to fierce sandstorms that also wrench leaves off trees and hurl them into the courtyard.  If there were no frequent sandstorms in this part of Rajasthan, there would be no plentiful rains in that year.  We have therefore learnt to welcome the sandstorms, and to simply avoid using the pool on the days that it has taken a beating. Not having guests during these periods does away with having to be apologetic about what is a perfectly natural occurrence. 

In the humid ‘short summer’ that lasts for a fortnight to three weeks at the fag end of the rains, the luxuriant growth of insect life in our surroundings renders the late evenings somewhat stressful if we use too many electric lights, as the bright lights have a fatal attraction for these insects.  When we have guests staying with us, we need to use full lighting, yet keep insects under control, for enhanced guest comfort.  This raises the huge – for us – ethical question of whether to spray?  or avoid chemicals altogether and let nature take its course? (see our blogpost “To Spray or not to Spray”, October 6, 2011).   In our neck of the woods, our resident starlings love the taste of the local insects.  On the morning after a particularly insect-filled evening they fly into our courtyard in pairs and within a couple of hours achieve a complete clean-up .  During particularly humid ’short summers’, therefore, we avoid taking bookings, thus resolving the dilemma of how to assure guest comfort while remaining true to our environmental ethic. 

Again, for about two weeks in the spring when the late mustard crop is being harvested, the tiny flying insects that live and feed in the mustard crop through the growing season are forced to flee their habitat.  Death, then, is their only alternative, and the only death they know is death by drowning.  As if by instinct, they make their way to our swimming pool and commit mass suicide.  If we come to know that some farms around us are about to harvest a late mustard crop, we decline bookings for that period and simply allow what must happen to happen! 

These are a few of the ways in which we at Savista try to go with the rhythms of nature and our immediate environment…

Last week one of our guests needed emergency medical assistance.

We were having a yoga session when suddenly, during a standing exercise, this young European swayed with her eyes closing and head wobbling loosely and fell to the ground, all within a split second. We were able to revive her soon enough, apply an ice pack to her head, and get her to lie down for the rest of the day. But by the evening her travelling companion came down to tell us that she was giddy and nauseous. What could we do for her?

With her lying down in the back seat of the car head cradled in her companion’s lap, we drove to our doctor in the city. As a former professor of the leading medical college in the city, a cardiac surgeon by specialization, and a general practitioner by default, we decided that he would be our first port of call.

When we arrived at his clinic, we were ushered in without delay. Following a physical examination he put us into an ambulance that took us to an ‘MRI and CT Scan Centre’ about 3 km away for a CT scan of her head. The scan was conducted immediately, and within 30 minutes we had the scanned images and report in our hands packed into a brightly-designed bag and were speeding back in the ambulance to our doctor.

The CT scan proved normal and our guest was already smiling. In the doctor’s presence, her companion phoned her insurance agency who then spoke to the doctor for his diagnosis. Before we left, the doctor prescribed medicines should any episode of giddiness recur during the rest of her travels. He also wrote down the generic names of the medicines for the reference of the insurance company’s own doctors. The whole exercise had taken us 4 hours, and had cost her INR 1800 (INR 1500 CT scan and INR 300 doctor’s fees). The equivalent of USD 35.

Our guests were grateful. The doctor had been very professional and was, obviously, very competent and widely travelled himself. Equally, they were amazed at the speed with which they were able to access first-rate medical facilities – doctor, ambulance, CT scan – in a mid-range Indian tourist town like Jaipur, from out of a rural resort, and walk away with a CT scan report in record time, a procedure that they said would have taken them at least a week to ten days in their home country. And they were amazed that they had spent only a fraction of what it would have cost them at home (which would be USD 1500 for a CT scan).

They mused that they were definitely returning home with a picture of India that was interesting and complex, but also admirable. They had seen the the Taj Mahal and the sights of Delhi and Jaipur. They had also experienced the reality of rural India from the comfort and safety of a novel resort located in the heart of the Rajasthan countryside. And they had come up close with a modern and professionally competent medical environment in a manner that was both timely and reassuring.

Walking to Fatehpura, a village about 4 km from Savista, is like an idyll.  The first and lasting impression is of the great and unspoilt beauty of the landscape.  A fairly smooth kuccha (unpaved) walking path is in existence and makes our progress easy.  We hardly meet anyone as we walk along comfortably; the only visual evidence is of nature and industrious agriculture.   On either side of the path stretch well cultivated fields showing the early tender green presence of wheat, garden peas, mustard and barley growing on  soil that looks dark and richly moist despite the generally sandy nature of the terrain.  Interspersed among the fields and along the pathway  are trees – mostly thorny sturdy babool, a tree suited to semi-arid soil conditions –  which provide shelter to busy birds exploring what the fields have to offer.

Between stretches of fields we pass a couple of homesteads. It would feel strange, indeed, if  in India there were not even such a minimal encounter with human presence.  A few young women busy with weeding or looking after their buffaloes look up and smile at us briefly.  A few small children, chubby and relatively clean and well clothed, give a startled and curious stare. It is still 4 in the evening and any older children must be still at school.  The men are probably away at work.  There are no idlers to be seen;  so different from the more urbanized villages that abound in the area.  Occasional patches of marigold, clearly being cultivated for the market,  add a splash of brilliance to the deep browns, greens and yellows on the ground and pale blue in the sky.  Little vegetable gardens hug the homesteads, from across the thatch housing the buffaloes; we can see thin green fingers of garlic and spring onions, the little leaves of fenugreek, potatoes, aniseed, spinach and turnips.  All this is evidence that the families in these homesteads are eating reasonably well.  Cowdung cakes are stacked to dry against the walls of the buffalo shelters.  These are families self-sufficient in grain, vegetables, milk and fuel.  Their men and women work.  Their children go to school.

At Fatehpura itself, beautifully-tended fields covered with crops reach for  the horizon.  The village houses are ranged along the other side of the main pathway.  They have large compounds shielded by high walls of thorny twigs.  Another striking image – even more so than the unspoilt and uncrowded beauty of the landscape – is the spotlessness we have encountered all along our route, and that continues through Fatehpura village;  the blessed characteristic of sparse populations.  The  homesteads along the route do not seem to be generating visible litter.  The feeling of being in an idyllic bubble begins to give way, however, when we get to the end of the village and closer to the main road that runs past it.   Although the landscape is still relatively empty of people, barring an occasional shepherd and his wife in traditional dress leading a flock of goats and sheep, or farmers on motorcycles also in traditional attire, plastic bags and plastic tea glasses lie piled up by the roadside. Evidence of modernity and prosperity in village India. Traditional knowledge does not equip people with the means to dispose of synthetic wastes.  And nobody is giving them the new knowledge either.   Apart from this, the idyll is still  intact, but we are reminded of how tenuous this is.

Diwali lamps

Today is Diwali, Festival of Lights.  Diwali Mubarak!  Naya Saal Mubarak! Diwali and New Year greetings to all!

 Diwali – from the Sanskrit Deepavali –  means “rows of lamps”.   Uniquely marked by the lighting of myriad oil lamps (now combined with decorative electric lights) in homes and public spaces; flower decorations to homes and shops, streets and parks; firework displays and the  bursting of fire crackers; the making and sharing of infinite varieties of sweets; the buying and gifting of new clothes and precious jewellery; and, most important, the reunion of families and friends – Diwali is one of the most joyously celebrated festivals of India.  It is India’s equivalent of Christmas in the West.

 The significance of Diwali is manifold, and there are as many symbolisms as there are cultures inIndia.  The two most important stories may loosely be termed the north Indian and south Indian. 

 In northern India, Diwali is celebrated as the victorious return of Lord Rama to his rightful throne in Ayodhya after 14 years of unjust exile.  It symbolizes the triumph of the forces of light, i.e., truth and justice over the forces of darkness, i.e., deception and greed.  Diwali follows within a few weeks of Dussehra, the festival celebrated across north India as symbolic of the destruction of the demon king Ravana by Lord Rama as a prelude to his return to Ayodhya.

 In south India,  the story of Deepavali has a powerful king Mahabali at its centre.  Bali was a great and wise king, famed for his fabulous generosity; it was said that nobody who came to Bali with a request ever left empty-handed.  But Bali’s arrogance and complacency arising out of is own reputation proved to be his undoing.  So drunk was he on his own fame that God – Maha Vishnu – felt compelled to come down to earth to teach a lesson in equanimity and humility.  Taking the form of a poor midget Brahmin who approaches Bali with a timorous request for just three paces of land, God demonstrates to Bali the folly of arrogance which arises out of a false sense of self and ignorance of one’s place in the cosmic scheme of things.  In gratitude, Bali prays that his lesson be commemorated by the annual lighting of ‘rows of lamps of wisdom and awareness ’ to  dispel the darkness and futility of self-delusion that can entrap even the most accomplished of persons.      

 In Rajasthan, Diwali is the most important publicly celebrated festival for several additional reasons.  The day following Diwali marks the beginning of the traditional new year for the people of Rajasthan.  It is also the beginning of the new financial year for the trading and business communities that dominate the regional economy of Rajasthan.  Following a grand puja (dedication) to the Godess Lakshmi – the godess of wealth and prosperity – businesses and shops open their new account books.  Throughout the Diwali week shops and markets remain open,  entire market areas are festooned with colourful decorations, sweet shops spill out onto the road, and textile and jewellery shops lay out their choicest wares to tempt customers.  It coincides with the agricultural calendar -  the new harvest has just been taken in, and there is ready cash in people’s hands.

At Savista, every electric light on the property is on for this evening.  We have also lit oil lamps all around the pool, at the gates, all through the Eastern Court, and at various points across the grounds.  Against the dark of the moonless sky – Diwali is always on a no-moon night – the flickering lamps have imparted a magic to the property.   All of Savista’s staff received gifts of clothes, sweets and cash. Those of the staff who live at Savista are wearing their new clothes and preparing to set off fire works, and those who live in their own homes in the nearby villages – mostly women – are enjoying their holiday, wearing their new saris and sharing with their families the sweets that they carried home. Tomorrow their brothers will visit them and share in the feast that their sisters will have prepared for them, for Diwali is also an occasion for siblings to renew their relationship. 

photo taken by Jeremy Fritzhand

About a month ago we had two lovely visitors from the U.A.E. come to stay at Savista. And from our first meeting, they clearly expressed interest in textiles, even sharing with us pages torn from a magazine highlighting the beauty of authentic textiles of Jaipur. The couple was most interested in purchasing textiles, less interested in witnessing the process (entirely understandable on a short trip to Jaipur).  So we shared our knowledge of the best shops to go hunting for authentic Jaipur textiles, told them a little but about our relationship with the neighboring block printing town of Bagru, and sent them on their way.

The two came back exhausted loaded with shopping bags, and at some point during that day asked to hear a bit more about Bagru.  Our block printing workshops.  And our half day tours to the printing workshops.  Bagru, only 8 km from Savista, is home to artisans of the Chhipa community who are renowned for their style of hand block printed cottons.  They have kept this beautiful tradition – using mostly natural fabrics and vegetable based dyes – alive in Bagru for at least 350 years. The long life of this craft is attributable to its prime natural environment.

Considering that Jaipur is known for its history, architecture and, one must not forget the crafts using precious stones, gold and silver, leather, textiles, etc. we expect many of our guests to have made a note whether mental or in their travel books that these are the things to see or buy while in the Jaipur area. This very reasonable notion encouraged us to strengthen our relationship with our friends in Bagru, hoping to bring the interested parties directly to the source of block printed textiles.

The men and women of the Chhipa community produce beautiful meters of fabric day in and day out, without much of a notion of where their fabric will be going and what it will become. Their products are sold at a distance from the environment in which they are produced, and visitors who come to buy textiles in Jaipur do not get to see the hard work, time and care that goes into each meter of fabric.  So, the half day tours and the block printing workshops were created by Savista – working with a few select artisans of Bagru – to showcase this beautiful art form.

Now, our couple from the U.A.E opted for the half-day tour to Bagru. It was long enough to see each step of the process: from the carving of the block, to the dyeing of the fabric, the block printing, the drying,  and examples of the final product in various styles. Of course, no length of fabric can be chosen, a block carved, fabric dyed, printed, possibly dyed again, maybe even printed on once or twice more, dried and sold, within a half day time-frame. And because of the natural time constraints built into the process, our guests taking the tour to Bagru get to visit the Chhipa community, see the carving of the block in one shop, the dyeing in another home/workshop, etc. etc.

This tour opens up many types of opportunities: the opportunity to see a community beyond its bazaars, with a local at hand to answer questions. The chance to see workshops of many different shapes and sizes, as well as varying printing techniques such as Dabu:  printing with mud such that further layers can be printed atop and the mud can be washed away leaving negative space. And, finally, the opportunity to see the finished work of a master printer, and share a cup of chai with him.

I hope that you have enjoyed the photos of our Bagru trip and should you want to learn more about our half day trips to Bagru or blockprinting workshops, please visit: http://www.savista.com/block-printing.html or contact us at: info@savista.com

The rains have been particularly bountiful in Jaipur this monsoon season.  And Savista and its environs have benefited greatly from nature’s generosity.

On Tuesday September 6, the sixth day after Ganesh Chaturthi, we decided to go in search of a water body in which to immerse our Ganesha – the turmeric representation of the god of auspicious beginnings that had been sanctified in our puja just a few days earlier.

We did not have to go far.  Less than 20 km from Savista stretched the brimming reservoir of Hingonia.  There was water for as far as the eye could see.  We drove along a winding country road  that took us through green fields and little villages.  We passed by men in white tunics and dhotis, colourful turbans, gleaming earrings, and luxuriant moustaches who pointed to the road ahead, until we stopped in astonishment at the largest expanse of water any of us has ever seen near Savista.

And here is a beautiful classical south Indian rendering of the popular composition Vathapi Ganapthim Bhaje in the raga Hamsadhwani, on the guitar.  Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO8faakv_34

A few posts have been piling up here at Savista. One on Eid, another on Ganesha. So we hope that you will welcome them like a well meaning belated birthday card, a chance to celebrate for another day, to savor the sweetness a little bit longer…..