Sample Programs Of Church Aniverssary

राजस्थान (Rajasthan)

Never put off to next year what you can do the same year.
Here is an article I set aside for a long time, then tried several times to prepare, without much success: wanting to write a travel book for months after the trip to something quite obscure. That journey back to the middle of October, at the time of Diwali. Navy and I, at the invitation of Chandrashekhar (Chandu for the mass of friends), have spent a big week in Rajasthan, its original state, where he and his loving care we have tied up a road trip to the organization fascinating, with car - impressive, driver - very friendly, many contacts and friends at every stage.

So yes, in mid-October, is also just after my Piyush meeting, and it's also just before a boom during which I just wrote. I try to catch me here almost a year later to great fanfare of travel notes and photos (which are exclusively taken with the camera Marines) in the disorder. I have rarely experienced more acutely how our memory is selective and inefficient.

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all began one evening in October in Delhi. Night is cool and foggy when we cross the JNU campus, stopping along the way, unexpectedly, to an exhibition of photographs in black and white arranged between the trees. Looking back, some regret, because I go with the certainty that he can not remember. After a few days silence is often permanent. Chandu, his little backpack, navy, his enormous backpack, my huge backpack and myself are taking place in a rickshaw to the Kashmiri Gate, from where the night bus to Jaipur. After a long time of negotiations of Chandu - where we understand that the main problem is that the driver is hoping to make plus d'argent parce que nous sommes blanches - nous montons dans le bus plutôt confortable où nous avons payé assez d'argent pour obtenir des couchettes. Les couchettes-susdites sont des sortes de sarcophages vitrés... Marine et moi en prenons une pour deux, fermons la vitre teintée noire du côté du couloir pour éviter les regards fixés sur nous depuis l'entrée dans le bus et ouvrons celle du côté route pour éviter la sensation latente de claustrophobie. Quelques heures d'un sommeil relatif plus tard, c'est l'arrivée à Jaipur, la capitale du Rajasthan.

Day 1 : जयपुर (Jaipur)

The station area in Jaipur is nothing welcoming Chandu and discovers to his cost what it means to travel with two white girls. We stared at, questioned every few seconds, he never experienced before. We cross a section of the city on foot to find a guesthouse. One finally chosen only has small rooms, very clean and simple, but a gently lit and spacious rooftop. After a few hours of sleep Chandu will pass a military that is why Jaipur est notre première étape, et à son retour nous faisons connaissance avec notre voiture (gigantesque, bordeaux, équipée d'une TV) et notre chauffeur Hanif (jovial, musulman, ne parlant pas un mot d'anglais). En ce premier après-midi nous visitons le centre historique de Jaipur où s'encombrent monuments assiégés par la civilisation moderne, bazaars, échoppes, véhicules de tous genres. Le parvis du Hawa Mahal, le palais des vents, est tellement encombré de circulation et d'échoppes qu'il est difficile d'en avoir un bon aperçu en photo. La visite elle-même est captivante, et, point non négligeable, le palais n'a pas usurpé its name: the provision of its bold corridors circulated a fresh breeze in the heat still brightening torrid Jaipur. Subsequent visits (garbled) the City Palace, Jantar Mantar and the garden observatory in Jaipur where we are beset on all sides. As night falls, we enter the Amer fort which was already empty of its tourists. In the dim light of torches of the court, a group of schoolgirls in uniform goes to the Hindu temple protected by the fort, where a celebration is held. Going down the hill from the fort, we see, in the middle of Man Sagar Lake, the figure almost abandoned Jal Mahal, the former summer palace of the Rajput princes, including night lights streak still proudly Lake.

the evening, back at the guesthouse, we met a young Englishwoman who has pressed his wacky work there over a year and travel for all this time at the expense of his father. "Then I Might go to Australia, I do not know." Dinner on the rooftop is accompanied by a number of puppets made by kids in the city, with the apotheosis Rajasthan version of "Frere Jacques". In the soft night we focus our attention on the rooftops of the city lit up the chalk and sandstone dominate, and walls painted a rosy patina of the centuries in Jaipur give his nickname "Pink City". That night we also meet Sunil, our new traveling companion called by Chandu. the morning during the journey between Jaipur and Ajmer, is the first diving car in the Rajasthan countryside.

Day 2: अजमेर (Ajmer) + पुष्कर (Pushkar)
Skip directly from Jaipur to Ajmer means shifting dramatically from atmosphere to another: if Jaipur is one of the capitals of the Rajputs, the historical Hindu, Ajmer is a Muslim city since the seventh century, which has seen invasions Muslim domination of Delhi Sultans and the Mughals. It is also a place of pilgrimage for Muslims, who come by the thousands, including from abroad, to visit the Dargah Sarif, the tomb of Gharib Nawaz, the most celebrated Sufi saints. So even before we went down the car, boys, we urge to don t-shirts with long sleeves and wear a headscarf. The religious atmosphere is palpable, as far as Rome. The whole city seems to converge towards the mosque which houses the relics of the saint. The artery leading to it is filled with stalls selling flower-garlands of roses, petunias and marigolds to have an offering in the mosque, while other shops sell fabrics embroidered with gold writing in Urdu and Arabic that the faithful take on their heads while kneeling before the shrine in the mosque. The crowd is compact, dark and sometimes aggressive: dozens of beggars often horribly mutilated crawl in the alley from the mosque. Many of them carry similar injuries with the certainty they have been deliberately mutilated. Entire families dressed in black or white, are moving towards the stairs where piously deposited hundreds of pairs of sandals, and camera or camera must be filed in the stalls before the entrance. Difficult to stand apart from the electric atmosphere that reigns within. Laments, cries, prayers echo through the walls while a carved stone indescribable movement pushes the crowd, as one man in the same direction. In the throne room where the saint's tomb, difficult to break through the crowd kneeling crowned and embroidered fabrics. It throws on the tomb with garlands of flowers, holy water, the Sufis call a few rupees to express a special prayer. Time flows differently here: For centuries the divine flow of worship within the walls of the mosque, but humans are drawn into a raging flood that leaves them exhausted after leaving this holy place.
more reason for leaving the mosque to visit a place just as Muslim but much less manic, which can be accessed at the top of a hill in Ajmer après la traversée d'une ruelle encombrée de magasins, de dhabas, de cyclorickshaws, et après la montée d'un escalier de pierre irrégulier qui serpente entre d'autres échoppes aux murs recouverts de tissus brodés représentant la mosquée d'Ajmer ou parfois celle de Médine ou de Jérusalem. Ce monument où des gens sont recueillis en face du mur de qiblah est la plupart du temps ignoré par les pèlerins : ici, des familles viennent se recueillir ou passer une journée reposante. Selon la légende locale, cette ébauche de mosquée a été édifiée en deux jours, ce que ne manquent pas de nous rappeler la grappe d'enfants aux multiples démonstrations affectueuses that cling to us, fascinated by the color of our skin, no doubt.
Still further up the hills of Ajmer is located Fort Taragarh only local illustration of Rajput architecture, the most important part is unfortunately not open to the public. Overlooking the city and its surroundings (and above: when I climb a remnant of fortification to admire the view, the boys do not fail to protest loudly), it also has its own mosque, a mausoleum built in memory of a Muslim soldier who has made the fight.
on the road emerging from Ajmer, a great discovery: the Nasia Soniji ki, a marvel of architecture unknown Jain, an unexpected step that decides to visit that after sighting a strange road since the intense radiation and copper out of an otherwise banal building. An entire room filled with models and miniatures and sparkling fairy representing the universe according to Jain cosmology, that we admire, like outside the bubble of dreams, from a glass corridor on the mezzanine.
We will spend the night in Pushkar that despite the good reputation of the city, we do not have the time to really visit. Sunil has a friend who runs a guesthouse in a strange smallest streets bass of the city: a narrow building, sandwiched between two great houses, whose stories seem endless pile. With its tidy rooms, his Hindu altar on each floor and decor posters of rock, the guesthouse looks like a haven for hippies. Night has already fallen when we go out into the streets lit only by the light of the few shops still open. Along the ghats, we fall on the Gau Ghat, émouvant de blancheur dans cette ville ocre, ensemble de temples de Shiva plongeant dans le lac sacré de Pushkar. Un peu plus, dans une impasse, trône le temple de Brahmâ (que nous n'aurons pas l'occasion de visiter), qui fait la particularité la plus importante de Pushkar : nulle part ailleurs Brahmâ n'est aussi vénéré. Selon la mythologie hindoue, dans le lac de Pushkar les dieux ont fait tomber un cygne sacré portant un lotus destiné à Brahmâ, qui devait alors effectuer un rituel sacrificiel.

Day 3 : चित्तौडगढ (Chittaurgarh)
After arriving at Chittaurgarh this morning, the day-is entirely devoted to visiting the huge fortified complex which overlooks the entire city.
forts, towers, temples, gardens, gates, sacred sites are linked endless. Visiting the museum upon arrival we will place the history of this place in a story on f ois glorious and bloody. If this is the largest fort in Rajasthan Rajput, he was also the targets of attacks during which successive Muslim, when defeat was no longer in doubt, thousands of women warriors, old men and children threw themselves into pyres to escape the humiliation of imprisonment (or worse). the Rani Padmini is particularly present in the names of monuments, Garden Padmini, Padmini Palace, and even "Queen Padmini Cave in Which Used to come and take bath", as a proud nostalgia for the princess who decided to escape the lusts of a Muslim invader, throwing herself into the flames, followed by the women of the palace.
Bearing the weight of centuries of painful history, we leave after a visit to the school campus where Chandu and Sunil studied before entering the University in Delhi. A military school campus, strict and orderly in appearance at least, where not a sound was heard. They are keen to visit one of their former teachers for which they have an affection tinged with reverence. This woman does not deign to address venerated, or Navy or me, one word or even a glance from any the visit. The boys try to justify it by telling us she does not speak English - but have already spent months in India, we know we do not need words to give a warm welcome. His two children and especially her son are the ones much more welcoming and distract us from their escapades and antics (to the dismay of their mother).
Thanks Chandu, Sunil and their nostalgic memories for the evening, ending with a flourish when we realize that we occupy the room for the night in the "Parents guesthouse" of the campus is in an appalling state . Moisture seeps everywhere, the sheets are dirty, Manned by a joyous various insect colonies, and it is better not to describe the nightmarish bathroom. But not about to complain that boys are thrilled to be there and occupy the room next door. The night we spend the most time possible to discuss the stands of the cricket stadium nearby. In the morning we are ready well before them - which the astounded enough so they understand what is happening.

Day 4: उदयपुर (Udaipur)

The next day promises to be of good omen, especially because we are greeted by friends of Sunil and Chandu, a family charming that no longer knows what to do to please us. Debates on French cuisine ("Goal, if It Is Neither sweet nor spicy, it is ... tasteless!") At a screening of Tom & Jerry in Hindi with children, we spend all our spare time with them. Some interesting taste experiences, especially when Marine forces himself to empty his cup from side extremely sweet orange served entry point that our host pours him a cup, and I try to keep my laughter discrete much as possible - until I realized that the main dish is stuffed cilantro. And if the Navy does not support Indian sweets, I can not stand cilantro. Every time I laugh I am punished Navy within five minutes ahead, it must come from exaggerated veneration for Ganesh. so short, we arrived in Udaipur, "City of Lakes", "City of princes, both uncluttered and serene beauty. is that the Rajputs in Udaipur transfer their capital after Chittaurgarh became too difficult to defend. The many palaces that sit above the town and its blue lakes, we visit the City Palace, the principal, whose architecture and romantic strength whose every corner is a discovery. In each room a different theme is deployed with glory, the Manak Mahal for rubies, pearls for Moti Mahal, Sheesh Mahal, the mirrors ... Difficult to navigate through this maze of palaces linked together and suddenly open onto gardens, but we get lost with pleasure as the sun begins to decline.

Precisely with this twilight Chandu that prepares us for a wonderful surprise end of the day: a cable car climbs on top of Udaipur, the backbone of the hill, toward the Karni Mata Temple. From there, you are entitled to the best view of Udaipur, palaces, temples and lakes Fateh Sagar, Swaroop Sagar Pichola and surrounded by the mountains that were once the reason for the choice of Udaipur as the capital of rajputanat.

Day 5: जोधपुर (Jodhpur)

The journey from Udaipur to Jodhpur is the longest of the trip: you have to cross from the inside almost half of Rajasthan, a trip far from any road really busy. We spend some time watching videos Bollywood while Hanif Rangeela officially nicknamed me "the colorful" for my harem pants and bright shawls and the way I probably laugh at each of its jokes. I really proof that friendship does not need to be born any common area or a common language. I will probably never see him again after this trip, he does not speak my language and I speak ill of his own, and yet I feel a real bond with him. On the other hand it shows some of the provisions in French, phonetically repeating whole sentences without any mistakes. Sunil him, still struggling to even pronounce my name that gives more "Guéééli. The long journey as an excuse to dream that the adventure is punctuated by ups and downs. In the narrow roads (especially through villages) the big car is flowing with difficulty and it is easy to learn how those moments will be hated by an entire population that invests prepare for Diwali shopping streets. Moreover, given the total absence of billboards, Hanif has to stop every five minutes to ask the way, thanks to a nod but again requested a few hundred yards away for safety. Outside the villages, ocher sand stretches and expands into deserts that are lost, behind rocks and trees that writhe like suffocating. Long lines of camels led by men in yellow turban, green, orange, pink or red slide on the tracks where women in saris red walk barefoot, graceful despite the heat and sharp rocks, with bundles on their heads, followed by a few goats bleating. On arrival in Jodhpur, we go above all to Umaid Bhawan Palace, where we expect Clement, a French friend in Delhi. The visit of the palace disappoints us, because if a game is now a museum, the rest is not even worth visiting: it is now a private residence.

Mehrangarh Fort, it is a great surprise. First, the view from our guesthouse is very far from being disagreeable. And at the time of the visit, it appears he restored and is regularly highlighted in a way rare for the Indian tourist sites, so that we rent an audio guide extremely well designed for the visit , which teaches us all sorts of details more or less known here but explained extensively. Especially for color coding in Rajasthan, I knew in outline but which has more charm in detail:
* for Diwali, one dressed in blue duck.
* for a wedding, the woman and the man in red in saffron.
* for funeral assistance is dressed in white or shades of dull green or blue, while the deceased was wrapped entirely in white.
* just before the monsoon, the nobles are the color of the clouds.
* for Holi, everyone dressed in white clothes with a red border.
The audio guide also focuses extensively the Gangaur goddess, patron of Jodhpur, one représentation est vénérée ici depuis le XVe siècle. Elle est un avatar de la déesse Parvati que les femmes mariées prient pour qu'elle prête longue vie à leur époux, et un festival de 18 jours a lieu en avril en son honneur, festival dont le dernier jour était autrefois le théâtre d'une longue procession menée par le maharaja lui-même. Cette statue est un trésor inestimable, symbole de l'honneur du fort et cible constante de pillages...

Après la visite du fort nous prenons notre temps pour redescendre les escaliers qui plongent dans the blue city, arrested in passing by groups of children or collectors of old tickets, which are happy to hear that some of us are French show us tickets French nineteenth century.

Days 6, 7, 8: सांखु (Sankhu)
The last leg of the trip is other than Sankhu, the small village where his family we Chandu receives for Diwali. After a night off to a wheel with the smooth ride and quick Hanif who was beginning to still feel tired au point de nous faire dire par Chandu qu'il fallait lui taper sur l'épaule de temps en temps et chanter pour le tenir éveillé (rassurant), nous arrivons éreintés dans ce petit village propret où la famille entière nous reçoit à bras ouverts. Après les présentations en rajasthani et en hindi, un petit déjeûner de thé amer et de chapatis, c'est le moment des tristes adieux avec Hanif qui va rendre la voiture à son propriétaire à Jaipur. Puis pour nous, ce sera le moment d'un repos bien mérité...
Au réveil, la maman de Chandu, au corps sec et élégant dans le sari traditionnel que portent toutes les femmes du village nous attend avec encore du tchai et des chapatis. La conversation est lancée, hésitante souvent, mais toujours pleine de bonne volonté. Puis on nous fait faire le tour du village où la famille Jakhar nous présente voire nous exhibe avec fierté : c'est la première fois sans doute que des étrangers viennent ici. Dans chaque maison, on nous pose à chaque fois les mêmes questions, mais on nous accueille aussi partout avec la même générosité, et avec le même verre de tchai. Et pendant ce temps, les préparatifs de Diwali se font sentir : toutes les femmes s'occupent de préparer le repas du soir tandis que les autres Family members prepare garlands, candles and lanterns that decorate the village the same evening.
The village had never before seen aliens tonight is served: other friends of JNU, German those, jeep arrived late in the day. The mother of Chandu nevertheless refuses any help to prepare a meal for more than 15 people. But before dinner was held the puja (prayer) recited by the father in the kitchen before representation of Ganesh, as our whole group of intruders listening without understanding a word. After that comes the moment of celebration, those that put children in the streets and sound of exploding firecrackers everywhere. Take part in the festival is so light a few firecrackers, receive the blessings of strangers smiling, admiring the village of hundreds of candles lit off a rooftop ... I also, myself, in the courtyard of the house lit by candles dying flame, entitled to share the magic of Diwali by receiving a call around midnight that I expected more and marks the beginning of a great story. The celebration continued the next day during the puja at the temple of the village, where we go with the family of Chandu and other neighboring families. For the occasion, to please Chandu and especially to her sisters (and by extension the whole village) I wear my blue sari bought in Kota, draped by a sister of Chandu by local fashion: by ensuring that a piece of cloth completely hides the tummy and modestly. I was soon imitated by one of our German Chandu's sister dressed like a doll as a beautiful red sari. During this celebration and the ensuing morning, we are still the highlight of the show but morbid curiosity, without invasion. We are rather distinguished guests that everyone is welcome, and we have our place in everything that sustains the village.
Germans and depart from our loved Cléminou the afternoon while we stay one more day. If our entire group was that of a group identity, we are the favorites, new girls for this already large family. The photo albums are open, we were talking about the entire family, or what everyone wants. The father's brother, who lives opposite, has often and each of her appearances raised a wave of enthusiasm. Indeed, it has an aura and an unusual sense of humor. Despite the wonderful reception we reserve, I can not help but rebel against the traditions imposed on women here: the presence of a man from another home, married women cover their faces in their sari and speaking only when man will go away. The story of our lives, moreover, makes strong impression on Chandu's sister who wonders how we can enjoy such freedom. Invitations to various houses are linked to the point that they become tiresome and we end up refusing to go see yet another distant cousin capita on the other side of the village. We decide to leave, just the two of a walk through the fields, much to the concern of a father who was born to fall. The path to the end of village meanders through fields of unique culture, a flamboyant color. The desert is already here, is felt. After an hour of walking we arrive at a house where someone challenges us. He wants us to come and drink chai with him, he speaks perfect English, his wife is charming, we accept, it does not go five minutes before the father of Chandu arrives, worried about the approaching twilight, as if he knew exactly where to find us. is the next morning he must go by jeep to Jaipur to take a bus to Delhi. Goodbyes are moving, and we offer each family (as the other girls on the eve parties) a traditional sari. Blessings, hugs with the two sisters, photo memories ... I hope that my way of coming years will give me the opportunity to return here.