The enchanting tale of Appu Kuttan

29th October 2019

In all the cities where i have lived, perhaps Bhopal is my favorite, because i grew, as a person, and experimented with different things. But that's another story for another time.
Now, wherever i go, i have this indulgence of adopting stray dogs, who are an integral part of India. You will find them everywhere, sometimes cared and sometimes shooed off unnecessarily by people. No, they are so dirty...they bite... I am like, excuse me human, have you ever looked at yourself ? You disgusting piece of s**t ? Shooing off a harmless animal just for your entertainment ? Well, what i mean by adopting is that actually they adopt me. At one point of time, i actually used to hate dogs and was petrified by them, but that was a long long time back. Now, as per universe's rule, stray dogs end up with me, call it law of attraction, so to speak.
And i am used to giving them weird names like Murali, Sharada...well Sharada was a cat. Tojo, Jordan, Simran and now Appu Kuttan in Bhopal. I couldn't think of a cuter name for him, "Kuttan" is often a nickname in south indian houses, so my roots must have instructed me somehow to name him that.
So i used to live in a bungalow in a posh society called Rivera Town. In a shared house, where two of my housemates where almost permanently absent from the city, Appu Kuttan came as a companion, one day, outside my gate, and i just fed him two rotis. Gradually, Appu Kuttan made the porch of my house his permanent residence, and i started keeping a bowl of water for him during hot summer days. Appu Kuttan was cute, no doubt, but as the time passed, i got to see his angry and timid sides as well. Appu Kuttan used to follow me till the society gate in the morning, when i would catch the bus to the university, and never went outside the society gate, for he knew his boundaries. He knew that the world outside is dangerous. So, this one day, i was going for my evening smoke and Chai, to the nearby dhaba, and all my efforts to send him back from the society gate went in vain. I crossed the main road to reach the other side, and he followed me. After i had my tea, i started walking back home, and this poor guy was so petrified while crossing the road, that i had to carry him in my arms like a child. He never crossed the main gate again.
One day, in the morning, the janitor came to collect the garbage and Appu Kuttan got hold of the poor woman's saree, and tore it. That's when things began to get serious. As much as i was feeling sorry for the woman, the situation was hilarious, for he never bit me. I think in his own, cute way, he was trying to protect me from intruders.
One fine day in winters, i was reading a book, curled up in blanket, and i heard a loud barking and the helpless sounds of a man, he had come from the electricity office to note down the reading for that month. Appu Kuttan tore his pant.
"Bhaisaab, yeh kutta aapka hai ? "
"Haan, aisa hi samajh lijiye, isne mujhe apna samajh liya hai, yahin rehta hai".

The third incident, was a bad one, i was sleeping on a Sunday morning, getting late for my music class, and i heard screams of a woman from downstairs, i rushed outside to find my maid screaming in agony, holding her leg, and Appu Kuttan guiltily looking at me in his usual cute manner, as if all the innocence of this world had been accumulated into the divine body of this white canine.
Well, thankfully there was no incident after this, but by then, the society people had become annoyed by the poor creature. I left for vacations back home, when i came back, Appu Kuttan was gone. Later i came to know that it was thrown out of the society, by calling some people from Municipality. I felt really guilty, and helpless that instead of helping a poor dog, people choose to just kick it away. I was at fault too, for i could have contacted some dog shelter, and asked them to take it away.
Later, i moved from that society, but visited it because a friend stayed there, i searched for Appu Kuttan, but obviously, he was nowhere to be found.
Wherever you are buddy, hope you are happy.

"Appu Kuttan"

February Morning

"And here you come, with a cup of tea
Wreathed in steam.
The blood jet is poetry,
There is no stopping it." 

A cup of tea and some biscuits are true friends in this (at times) pretentious world of research. One year in Japan is coming to a close and sometimes i can't believe how far i have come when i look back. 
Numerous towns, cities, countries, friends, cultures, talents and books. Yet, sometimes there is an overwhelming exhaustion which takes over, when i don't wish to get out of my blanket for days. True, i should be proud of what i am doing, interested as well, but there are times when there is hardly a person around to speak, the actual human contact. Not that i am complaining about it, love this solitude. As a good friend has told me "Solitude will slowly ignite the fire within you". 
And it's true, Solitude shall ignite the fire. A Phd was never going to be easy, but it's not gonna be insurmountable either.But what irritates me is the sheer amount of pretentiousness that lies in this world. A simple sentence, twisted and turned by the help of Thesaurus and Dictionaries into something entirely incomprehensible for a normal human mind. Perhaps the reason, why research papers have a limited outreach. 

I do fear the future, about the fact that my parents are growing older, and not any younger, and the job prospects after Phd. And about the fact that i will be almost 34 when i finish my Doctorate. Not old by conventional standards, but conventionally not young, either. 

People do ask me: "Don't you want to settle down" ? And i pondered, does anyone really settle down in life ? Monotonous nature of domestic life has always been a boring prospect for me. And yet, inside i yearn for something more permanent. But that permanency may soon become stagnant, which is another rational fear. 

Somehow the choices which i have made, are so unconventional for some people around me. How can you study so much ? You are doing Phd now ? I am like: As if academicians have any other choice but to further their career prospects by going for a Doctorate, when the entire academic world is dominated by people who are clearly not fit for their jobs. 

As a true Indian, i miss being back at home, drinking tea at local "Tapri" and "addas", and the hustle bustle and randomness of Indian towns, but a part of me does not want to go back to India as well. That brings me to another thought: Do i truly belong to any one place ? When someone has lived in so many places, and worked in so many cities, how can one say where one's heart truly belongs ? I feel alienated when i am back home, and alienated here as well. 

More than anything, i miss my singing, the Carnatic Raagas and melodies, what with all the valid but frustrating noise rules over here, and with the apartment walls so thin that i swear i could hear my neighbor snoring in his sleep at times. 

And like a true millenial, i crib about the things which might be irrelevant for many people, but in the end, will it all turn out to be "worth it" ? 

Only time can tell ! 
Meanwhile, Chai and Sutta awaits me.  

My tryst with Carnatic music !

"If music be the food for love, play on".

I live by this quote. In a pretentious, trying too hard to be utopic world, music is the only thing which is perhaps close to a real emotion. If people ask me to name one thing which i miss in Japan, then the answer would be my music classes, and the associated cultural diaspora with it.
So, my tryst with carnatic vocal music started together when i started singing in Christ Church Youth Choir, not that i was fit to be called to be in a "youth" group, because i was already close to 28 then. But, after a long, long time i decided that it's high time that i do justice to the musical side of me, and therefore, the choir was only the beginning, but the only problem was, i wasn't that good with English songs and had no idea about the order of the mass either. But interestingly, i was lucky enough to be taught by my student, during daytime i was her teacher, and during evening practice in church and on sundays, she was the choir master. Simultaneously, another student of mine introduced me to Carnatic vocal music.
Since childhood, i had always grown up listening to carnatic songs, given my tamil background, but never had a chance to learn it, since there were no options in North India for such thing way back in the 90s. But anyway, better late than never.
When i moved from Manipal to Bhopal, finding a teacher for Carnatic music was difficult. So, after several emails to Bhopal Tamil Association and after several calls, i got a chance to learn carnatic from Mrs.Shantha B.K. Iyer, what a lady ! Amazing voice even at the age of 68, she encouraged me to sing more. I told her that i am not confident since generally, people start learning music at a very young age. She told me the exact same thing as my previous student-teachers had told me, that nothing is impossible if you practice. Well, i did it, and now Carnatic vocal music and Church Choir music has become my lifeline.

My lifeline while battling with struggles to get a Phd position, and my encouragement while struggling with depression. Music is like a therapy, indeed. Even though, it was quite difficult to practice after coming back dead tired from work, i tried hard. During these days, one particular song caught my attention, "Naino mein badra chaaye" based on Raaga Bhimpalas from an old hindi movie. What a song, and i practised it several times with my Shruthi box. So much, that even my neighbors in Bhopal became aware of my singing. (Anyone will be, if you sing at 2a.m in the night, when the world sleeps).
Then content writing with Anahad foundation happened and i got to actually write about music. Music and writing, two of my passions combined. Even though, these two things have absolutely nothing to do with my career, yet, i proudly mention them on my resume.
When you feel down and feel that you can't take it anymore, sing.
Somehow, the music has started to fade from my life, but still, i try to keep it alive here by joining a choir again.
But, it's not easy to give up old habits, and music has become a habit. It is something which helps me focus, and i just lose myself in it. Out of hanging out with friends and listening to Carnatic music with a good cup of tea, i would always chose the latter. :P

The question really is, how to keep your attention focused to things which you are actually supposed to do ? Like doing your research, doing the language class homework, or the numerous assignments ? When you have too many passions, its almost "Jack of all trades, and master of none". Yes, i do lose hope that i may never be able to master learning music, or research, or a new language, but then, i enjoy the journey and learning process, without stressing myself over the outcome too much.
I can write a 6 page research paper while simultaneously listening to Bombay Jayashree's Sindhu Bhairavi Thillana or i can work on my presentation while losing myself in the melodies of "Kanha main tose haari". Welcome to the new age multitasking people !

When i started learning music, i wasn't encouraged by many, who didn't like my voice. Well, haters gonna hate you anyway, but i tried to remain positive without caring much about what others think. Haters can go to hell. Nothing makes me happier than discussing about music, arts, culture, history, and the list is long....!!

Even though these days are full of struggle, and i sit down dejected at times, when i seem to be the only dumb person in the language class, or when i am unable to explain my "research questions" in lab seminars, or when i am just too overwhelmed at times when there is nobody to talk to, music always comes to the rescue.
So either you can give way to dejection, or find new things to do. I choose the latter. New things, new city, new friends, new language, new paperwork, new research, new assignments, but the music and the playlist on my laptop remains the same. In a world thats constantly changing, music has become like that never aging friend who is always by your side.

Because, that is the real me.

So, its 2:28 am on a hot, sultry night in Kyoto, and i am listening to MS Subbalakshmi's Thillana in Raaga Dhanasri, could it "be" more perfect ??

Cheers.

Back to the “Student Life” and Survival on Junk food.

12.48 am, 29^th April 2018, Kyoto

Back to the “Student Life” and Survival on Junk food.

Two rejections from Germany, that too after an interview, plus numerous other rejections for Phd position applications, the never ending cycle of wait, agony, and the ecstasy of finally getting the MEXT Scholarship in Kyoto. The past years have been full of struggles, disappointments, despair, rediscovery and pleasure. Perfect recipe for a typical Indian dish with all the spices served right, only this time, the spices burned my throat!!

Well, I wasn’t really keen when I got admission in Kyoto University, to be honest, because my European dream was rejected. But now that I am here, I couldn’t help but love Kyoto and Japan, for their culture, their politeness, hospitality, and serenity. Kyoto, once the capital of Japan is full of shrines, temples and historic sites, what else can a History lover expect?

It’s an era of new life experiences and things which I have never seen before. Kerala, Delhi, Ghaziabad, Roorkee, Auroville, Pondicherry, Germany, Manipal, Bhopal and finally Kyoto. So many places, so many travels, and numerous experiences, both good and bad. But I guess, this is what makes us independent. For a person who loves to read, experiencing a new place is no less than reading a new book.

As I make my way through the lanes of Kyoto, riding a bicycle after 13 years with these smoke-filled lungs, I feel a sense of joy, even though life is hectic with language classes thrice a week, plus one course and seminar, I like it, though I am overwhelmed at times. Learning a new language is no easy task at the age of 30! But yes, I like learning, and then spreading the knowledge around, because that’s what I have done for the past 4 years. As they say, life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans.

The good part of living in so many places is that it has given me a sense of independence. Even though the people here hardly speak any English, there was no communication barrier because then I use “sign” language. That is, explaining what I want through gestures, and hats off to the patience which Japanese people seem to have. Also, I don’t know why people crib about being lonely. It’s one of the things to cherish. Do whatever you want without any obligations.

Today I visited a place known as Kinkaku-ji, which is a Zen Buddhist temple in Kyoto. I remember the days when I used to be hesitant in going to some place alone, but now somehow it seems easy.

“I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity”

-Albert Einstein

Solitude makes you strong, yes, it does. And it gives you a new perspective on life, and I still have no idea why people get this idea that if I go to new places alone, I might be really depressed, and all I get is their pitiful comments. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than doing what I want, without the obligation of doing what others do, which happens when you travel in a group. Sure, group traveling is fun, but also, depends on the place where you go.

Maybe, studying Architecture and Urban Planning has made me crazy, to a certain extent. But I shall wear this weirdness like a symbol of honor, like I always have.

Well, It’s almost the end of my first month in Kyoto, and life has changed, just a couple of months back, I was teaching students in a college, and now I am one of the students, struggling to reach my classes on time, coping up with learning a new language, and struggling to stay awake during 3 plus hours of seminar, now I know why students were so sleepy all the time during the lectures. Absolutely no one has an attention span of more than 45 minutes!! Let alone having listening to 4 presentations in one go.

So, one month down and more than 3 years to go…! Maybe one fine day I will chose to end my procrastination and begin work on research… but till then, its Netflix and chill time.

Good night.

Back to Jaisal Italy and the Living Fort

Sawaali hun na khaali hun

Aashiq mast jalaali hun

Khaata hun na peeta hun

Marta hun na jeeta hun

Re nashi mawaali hun

Main aashiq mast jalaali hun

Nar hun na madi hun

Na chor fasadi hun

Allah hun ni bulla hun

Maula hun na Mohammed hun

Arabi ji vich Ahmed hun

I don’t ask many questions, nor am I worthless

I am a lost lover (love for Allah)

Neither do I eat, nor do I drink

Neither am I alive, nor am I dead

I am intoxicated with the love, “ibaadat for allah”

Neither am I man, nor a woman

I am not a thief or rioter

I am not Allah or Bulla (the poet himself)

Neither am I Maula, nor am I Mohammed (Maula=Allah, Mohammed=Prophet Mohammed)

Words are less to describe the mesmerizing effect Bulle Shah’s poetry has on you, simple but profound in narrative! Physically, I was exhausted, after so many song translations and interviews, but mentally, I was not. Almost everyone in Jaisalmer seems to have such an interesting background story, specially these Manganiyaar singers.

The golden sand of Jaisalmer once again welcomed me, though this time, it was cold, desert winters are harsh and we were shooting in Mama’s Desert Camp and Resort, and desert resort situated some 38km from Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer, once again, amazed me with its golden sand grains and the living fort. When I came to know that I will be working with Anahad again, not only was I happy, but I had an intuition that this time we will be working twice as hard. Not to mention, with the chilling temperatures.

Jaisalmer’s temporal dimension is something which is not constant. During September, its off-season, hotel palaces are almost empty and deserted, but this time of the year, tourism in Jaisalmer is crazy! With tourists pouring in from every corner of the world. This was a schedule with many ‘firsts’ for eg. A first time night setup for the shoot, which included a female singer as well. Bonfires did help in keeping the cold temperatures at bay, but our team couldn’t contain their excitement as we gave in to the powerful vocals of Rekha Sapera, who sang us a song, which was about a wife trying to please her husband by cooking for him.

As a person who is too much into classical music, working with Anahad is probably the best thing which one could ask for. Along with the work comes sleepless nights too! Writing is not an easy task, yet its an enjoyable one when coupled with good food, and roller coaster desert safari rides for free! It did take two hair washes to get the sand out of the head and the system, yet, these sand dunes are so majestic and scary, that the thrill of riding them was out of this world.

The music documentation this time was not an easy task, with a mammoth target of almost 5 groups per day. After a while, you tend to forget all that and lose yourself in the work. Listening to the stories of these people is an absolute delight.

With each group, came a new package of stories and experiences, and new found wisdom. Their music is timeless, and beyond the boundaries of caste and religion, as one particular singer told me, that they are “Islamic” in their beliefs, but “Hindu” in their patterns, and daily habits, and appearance. On one harmonium, I noticed later, was written the number 786 alongside a swastika symbol. There is indeed, so much to learn from these people.

Their music is as unique as it is timeless, as it combines the traditions and emotions from both Hinduism and Islam, music has no boundaries of caste, creed or religion, and Sakur Khan’s music is a perfect example of that. In one particular song, rendered from a poem by the famous Sufi Poet, Shah Latif, who composed mainly in Sindhi language, a girl wishes to leave this material world and desires to become a ‘Jogan’, (female ascetic). In the entire song, she uses various metaphors for describing a Swami, yet retaining the Sindhi-Islamic flavor. It’s interesting, yet worth noting that most of the singers from these Manganiyaar community are followers of Islam when it comes to religious worship, yet they are hindus in their day-to-day life.

Khufar jholiyo kulhan mein

Wajnan wayu kann

The swami carries a satchel (jhola), in which he keeps a utensil

When he asks for food.

He keeps walking and roaming till eternity.

(Swamis, in India, generally carry a satchel, and are dressed in simple clothes, they are devoid of material desires and live on “bhiksha”, on people’s generosity)

The swami usually carries a utensil which is known as ‘kista’ in the local language and lives on the food provided by the people which he carries in his ‘kista’. The most mesmerizing thing about this composition is that it’s composed in Raaga Malahari, which is an important Raaga in Hindustani Classical music and is associated with the atmosphere of rains. Yet, this is the beauty of folk music, that one raga can be used to evoke various emotions and to create a variety of moods. According to legend, raga Malhar is so powerful that when sung, it can induce rainfall. It is possible that the rainfall that the legends speak of is in fact metaphorical of the state of mind brought about by the recital of the raga.

The systems of Raaga and Taal in the Manganiyaar sangeet, have been documented by the Legendary Ghazi Khan, as he told me when we interviewed him. Even though, music cannot be really standardized and confined to textbooks, yet, it should be documented, as it’s as much part of the heritage of Jaisalmer, as is the Jaisalmer fort itself.

Conserving the heritage and creating livelihood options for these people is one of the main objectives of Anahad. While conservation is not an easy process, it’s not something which is unachievable, it’s all about the right kind of strategy, and understanding the issues at a holistic level. And communication really helps to recognize the problems at the grass-root levels. Outreach is also equally important.

And when conservation work comes with fun, there is nothing more which one could probably ask for. Our documentation concluded with a great lunch at Jaisal Italy, which had become my favorite place during my last visit. It never fails to charm me, and I have made it a point that if I visit Jaisalmer in near future, I won’t leave without roaming inside Jaisalmer Fort and without having a meal inside Jaisal Italy.

Each time I visit such a place, I thank myself for choosing Architecture, and moreover I thank my inclination towards music, because Jaisalmer combines the best of both worlds and I am truly blessed to appreciate both equally, while I pack my bags and roam around like an aimless wanderer. As Bulle Shah says

Sawaali hun na Khaali hun

Aashiq mast Jalali hun

Jaisal Italy and The Living Fort

10.9.2017, End of Day 3 & 4, Jaisalmer, 12:46am

“Amar raho Jaisan-nath

Girdhar ke pyare laal

Sheesh par teehare chaaje

Dwaar par teehare baaje

Ghanan ghanan ghanan ghor

Indra ke nagare”

Be immortal, Oh King of Jaisalmer,

Beloved of Giridhar

Your throne is made of sheesham,

And clouds shower their thundering sounds at your door

Like they do in Indra’s abode

Finding an authentic Italian plus Indian restaurant, called “Jaisal Italy” in the ramparts of the fort was the last thing I expected in Jaisalmer, and as I bit into my olive-cheese pizza at 11p.m in the night, the music from our documentation from last day echoed in my ears. I loved Jaisal Italy as much as I loved the music from the previous day. This was my second visit to Jaisal Italy in the same day. I loved the food and the ambience so much that I decided to take my fellow volunteer Saurabh, for dinner in that place. This is the case with some places, they just connect to you, where Architecture beautifully blends with traditional materials, and offers interesting choices of food. You can have a beautiful view of the fort, and relish your Palak paneer as well as Cheese-olive pizza. This is the land of ruins, love, music, grandeur, royalty and FOOD ! Eat, eat and eat, till you satisfy your inner soul.

These past two days have been exhausting, with a mild migraine attack as well, but even with migraine, I couldn’t resist myself from climbing up the stairs and alleyways of Rani Mahal, to reach the terrace of the fort in a blazing sunlight at 4 in the afternoon. Nothing else in this world matches the majestic view of the city from Rani Mahal, one of the prominent attractions of Jaisalmer Fort, the only living fort in India. If I begin writing about the history of Jaisalmer Fort, the one blog post won’t be enough. Unsurmountable, the pride of “Jaisan”, as Jaisalmer is called in the local dialect. 

Yesterday’s shoot began with documenting the music of Akbar and Hassan Khan, who have been singing for the royal court since 9 generations. Each time before a coronation ceremony, these artists were commissioned to prepare songs especially for that occasion, a song dedicated to the upcoming Maharaja, the heir of the royal family. These royal families have helped these musicians in their upliftment since generations, and like all other musicians in Jaisalmer, music is a tradition in their family too. 

These musicians are mainly darbar artists who have been singing for the royal families since 9 generations, and their songs are based on Raagas from Hindustani classical music. They do experiment with variations in terms of taal and raagas at times. The main instruments used for their singing are harmonium, khadtaal(Castanet, 4 pieces of wood, played by hand), ghada(earthen pot), and dholak for keeping time. Akbar Khan and Hassan Khan describe their musical ‘Gharaana’ as ‘Alamkhaana’ a titular head of hereditary caste Manganiyar and are professional singers and musicians who traditionally perform to their Jajman (Patrons) Rajput families.

When asked about the importance of music in their lives, Akbar Khan says “Music for them is like a protein for happiness”. It’s a divine art, used for story-telling.

And it does tell a story, the story of these 56 bastions of the fort, and the stories of these royal families. 

But personally, my day today was even more exciting than yesterday, what was meant to be an off-day, turned out to be full of work and fun combined. What appalled me is the sheer scale and magnitude of this “living” fort of Jaisalmer, where people have been living since centuries. The afternoon began with a tour of the two main “Mahals”, Raja ka Mahal and Rani Mahal, with the present crown Prince, Chaitanya Raj Singh. One advantageous thing about roaming around with the prince, and working with Anahad is that you get to go to all nooks and corners, where tourists are otherwise barred from entering. Not to forget, the special “royal” and important treatment that you get. But we deserve it for all the hard working hours we are putting in.. don’t we ? :) 

We interviewed Prince Chaitanya too, who shared a lot of stories with us about his childhood, and about his future plans for the fort. 

And I got to see, to feel, so many facets of life. Through the eyes of a historian, and through the art of one of the oldest Jewelry shop inside the fort, who has carved an image of Lord Krishna in a strand of a hair! Sheer awesomeness…or as our boss, and director of Anahad Foundation, Abhinav puts it.. It’s truly dope!!

In the afternoon, we had our lunch at this chic restaurant called “Jaisal Italy”, a small, cozy restaurant located just at the entrance of the fort. We all couldn’t help but stuff ourselves with the lip smacking food, and also, a feast for the eyes. As the evening set on, me, and our two immensely talented and passionate Masters of Film-making, Nishant and Aithram(volunteers with Anahad) went to the ramparts of the fort, to setup the camera for creating a time-lapse. 

The city looked beautiful from such a great height, and the tourists were still pouring in, ignoring the innocent pleas of my friend Nishant, to stay away from the front of the camera. Yet, these two passionate men, whom I have started admiring for their zeal and hard work, managed to complete their task. And as we hogged on our chicken chowmein and garlic chicken, we shared a lot of stories, ranging from the alleged thefts in Paris,to random topics, only to be overheard by a gentleman at the next table, who is all set to go to Europe shortly, and who got a little scared after hearing the theft stories. That gentleman, turned out to be a waste management expert. 

Well, it’s already 10^th of September, and I am already dreading to face the reality of life, as I return to my regular job. But such experiences are necessary once in a while.

As I write the translations of their songs, the poet inside me couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the poetic lyrics. As I said earlier, simple yet profound! And combined with a powerful voice. My night ended with again hogging at “Jaisal Italy” and admiring the fort once again at night, all lit up. The deserted alleyways, with just fragments of night-time activity, like sacred flagpoles thrown pell-mell after a festival. The Architect and history lover inside me was overjoyed, as I strolled through the various alleyways of the area around the fort at night. These are the different shades of this medieval city, calm, energetic, brimming with hot spices and the aroma of “Daal Pakwaan”, the colorful turbans and traditional attire of the people, the creepy Rajasthani puppets. (Personally I love them, yet people find them creepy).

And so therefore, I end this really long blog post, with a promise to write daily till the time I am here, and till I have eaten at “Jaisal Italy” atleast two more times !!

And being a huge fan of Shakespeare, I would like to quote him for the Golden city of Jaisalmer, and now when I think of it, had Shakespeare been to Jaisalmer, I am sure he would have based a play in Jaisalmer and we would have had our own Indianized version of Romeo and Juliet.

So this is Sonnet 18:

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

Akbar and Hassan Khan's group

A view of the fort from Rani Mahal

These alleyways

Inside the Fort

Jaisal Italy

Through the Arches !