Letter from Jaipur

Jaipur is the best literary festival in the world, not because it is the biggest (it is not), nor because it is well-funded (it is not) but because it is free. Or almost free. You have to register in advance, but the five-day student pass will set back a young scholar 100 rupees, which is under £1.
 
This creates an audience unlike anything else I have encountered. A Jaipur audience is younger, smarter, more alert and attentive. It is opinionated, bright-eyed and stylish. Since no one buys seat tickets, if the audience feels that the speaker (be they ever-so-famous on the little screen) is underperforming, they simply rise up and go listen to someone more articulate and honest, often achieving this exit with some style, as sarees and scarves, or school blazers, are adjusted with a determined flourish.  At any hour of the day there are seven simultaneous talks being held, most of them in open-sided tents within the Jaipur Festival compound, so there is plenty of choice, and plenty of freedom to move. My travelling companion and I agreed not to attend the same talks so we could double up on the already dazzling range of options.  On each of the five days (Thursday through to Monday) the three biggest tents (Front Lawn, Charbagh and Surya Mahal) will host nine separate sessions, including a start-up session of a Morning Raga – classical Indian music. In the early evening there is always a raucous, high-volume and boldly-lit rock concert performed by bands flown in from Delhi or Bombay for which tickets are keenly purchased by Jaipur’s youth. For the rest, no individual, neatly numbered seat tickets are sold for any of the acts, nor are seats reserved for speakers or sponsors. So unlike our dear old, stuffy little Britain there are no veiled class distinctions in the seating, or entrance queues waiting for ticket checking, just a determined free flow of individuals. For the more popular sessions, a crust ten individuals thick can surround the packed rows of seats within the tents, all craning to get some sort of view. In the indoor halls, if there are no free chairs, the overflow audience neatly folds their legs to sit in the aisles or cluster around the stage.

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E M Forster, The Hill of Devi

An Englishman Serving at the Court of a Maharaah

The novelist E M Forster opens the door on life in a remote Maharajah’s court in the early twentieth century. Through letters home from his time working there as the Maharajah’s private secretary, he introduces us to a fourteenth-century political system where the young Maharajah of Devas, ‘certainly a genius and possibly a saint’, led a state centred on spiritual aspirations.

1 Jan. [1913]
So many delights that I snatch with difficulty a moment to describe them to you. Garlanded with jasmine and roses I await the carriage that takes us to the Indian Theatre, erected for the Xmas season outside the Old Palace. But to proceed.

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Barnaby Rogerson on Francis Yeats-Brown's BENGAL LANCER

Extracted from Barnaby Rogerson’s afterword to Eland’s new edition


Bengal Lancer was published in the summer of 1930 and proved a phenomenal success in both the British Isles and North America. Over 150,000 copies were sold and the London publisher, Victor Gollancz, sold foreign rights to Italy, Spain, Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Rumania. The film rights were snapped up by Hollywood for fifteen thousand dollars and in January 1935 Paramount released The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, [starring Gary Cooper] which was saluted as one of the great adventure stories of cinema. Francis Yeats-Brown was able to admire the film on its own merits and was amused rather than outraged that it had so little to do with his book. But having read Bengal Lancer, you will understand how difficult it would be to create a film that would in any way be true to the text.

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