A hazy shade of pink

A hazy shade of pink
Sukhmani Singh

Welcome to Jaipur, city of contrasts. As I lounge in the luxurious, surreal confines of the Raj Vilas Hotel, I could be forgiven for momentarily forgetting that 31 of Rajasthan’s sprawling districts are currently reeling under the third successive year of drought, affecting more than 30,000 villages and 330 lakh people. Certainly, there are absolutely no visible traces of deprivation in the air-conditioned interiors of this beautifully appointed hotel.

And amidst a gathering of the country’s captains of industry, we have a discussion on how to attract more foreigners to El Paradiso the colourful, historical, romantic state of Rajasthan. Also poverty riddled, feudal, prone to drought and famine.

But no mention is made of these grim realities they have become a routine, unexceptional part of life here, like the terrorism and killings in Jammu and Kashmir. So I soak in the grandeur around me and consign famine to some remote recess of my mind. After all, there’s much around to sedate me elegantly decorated tables piled high with delicacies tartlets, cakes and savouries.

In fact, life in Pink City is far removed from the grim hardships in the interior. One night, a trifle befuddled by the reams of invitations to diverse functions ranging from the launch of a VLCC beauty parlour to a seminar on poverty alleviation, I escaped to watch a film. The theatre astounded me.

Opulent to the extreme, with decorated stucco roof, curved Victorian staircase, walls decorated with paintings of British tourist landmarks like the Big Ben and framed photographs of movie legend Dilip Kumar’s visit to the hall, circa 1950.Inside, there is an enormous screen framed by a ruffled velvet curtain and seats you could sleep in. The theatre was refurbished at great expense and inaugurated recently by our own Husain. The courtyard outside is dotted with elegant wrought iron benches and plants arranged around a central fountain. The European hangover is clearly evident.

The next day I attend the Rajasthan assembly session which bears a strong resemblance to a boxing ring, with the opposition screaming hoarse first over the hike in power tariff, and then about a leak of the budget. Proceedings are adjourned over these issues. One would almost feel RAW’s anti-Pak strategy had been leaked to the enemy. The real issues facing the state are not even mentioned. The focus is on scoring points, not on rectifying matters.

However, soon, as it often does here, reality insidiouslyintrudes. For the scene outside is in sharp contrast. I witness a demonstration of angry, emaciated villagers from all partsof the state, squatting close to the chief minister’s residence, demanding nothing morethan the bare necessities water, food andemployment.

Dressed in bright ghagra cholis, the women have left their starving children to travel hundreds of miles to Jaipur in search of salvation. Having made the difficult journey, they gaze wonderingly at the fountains spouting water at the state capital’s main roundabouts. The disparity is too glaring, too cruel for them to digest. A motley collection of NGOs soon whips them into a frenzy. The chief minister refuses to grant them a darshan even after a protracted wait. So they defiantly court arrest.

Another day is over.