Rajasthan Heritage Dossier 2013

Rajasthan Heritage Dossier 2013

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Incredible Indian Tours Rajasthan Heritage trip-validity: 1/1/13—31/12/13 This is a wonderfully classic trip, taking in the splendour of the Mughal cities of Delhi and Agra and the majesty of Rajasthan, where we experience the spectacular history and heritage of this ‘Land of Kings'. From jeep rides through the jungle searching for the elusive Bengal Tiger to boat rides on the romantic Lake Pichola in Udaipur, you will be introduced to some wonderful secrets; Indian cooking, miniature Mughal art, gemstones, tie-dye, folk dancing and turban tying to name a few.
  • private vehicles
  • city palace
  • lake palace hotel
  • ranakpur jain temples
  • temples
  • trip
  • india
  • 2 india
  • accommodation
  • heritage

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On those hot days Eve snuffedit,twirleditinh Katie'sneckwithit,ande
CARNATION (1918)
By Katherine Mansfield
curious Eve— alwayscarriedaflower.hesnuffeditandrfingers,laiditagainsthercheek,heldittoherlips,tickledded,finally,bypullingittopiecesandeatigit,petalbypetal.
“Rosesaredelicious,mydearKatie,”shewouldsay,standinginthedimcloakroom,withastrangedecorationoffloweryhatsonthe hat pegs behind her“but carnations are simplydivine!Theytastlike—like—ahwell!”Andawayherlittethinlaughflew,flutteringamongthosehu e,strangeflowerheadsonthewallbehinder.(Buthowcruelherlittlethinlaughwas!thadalon sharpbeakandclawsandtwobeadeyes,thoughtfanciful Katie.)
To-dayitwasacarnatio .ShebroughtacarnationtotheFrenchclass,adeep,deepredone,thatlookedasthougithadbeendippedinwineandleftinthedrktodry.Sheheldit on the deskbeforeher,alfshuthereyesandsmiled.
“Isn'titadarling?”saids e.But—
Unpeudesilence,s'ilvousplaît,” came from M. Hugo.
Oh,bother!Itwastoohot!Frightfullyhot!Grillingsimply!
ThetwosquarewindowoftheFrenchRoomwereopenatthebttomandthedarklindsdrawnhalfwaydo n.Althoughnoaircamein,theblindcordwungoutandbackandtheblindlifted.Butr allytherewasnotabreathfromthedazzleotside.
Eventhegirls,inthed skyroom,intheirpaleblouses,withstiffbutterfl -bow hair ribbonsperchedontheirhair,seemedtogiveoffawarm,weakliht,andM.Hugo'swhitewaistcoatgleamedlikethebellyofashark.
Someofthegirlswereeryredinthefaceandsomewerewhite.VeraHollandhadpinned upherblackcurlsà la japonaisewithapenholderandapinkpencil;shelookedcharming.FrancieOwenpushedhersleevesnearlyuptotheshoulers,andthensheinkedthelittleblueveinnherelbow,shutherarmtogether,andthelookedtoseethemarkitmade;shehadaassionforinkingherself;shealwayshadafacedrawnonherthumbnail,withblack,fo kedhair.SylviaManntookoffhercollarantie,tookthemoffsimply,andlaidthemonthedeskbesideher,ascalmasifsheweregoingtowash her hairinherbedroomath me.Shehad anerve!JennieEdwardstoraleafoutofhernotebookandwroteold Hugo-Wugo to shout us a“Sh ll we askthippennyvanillaonthewayhome!!!”andpas editacrosstoConnieBaker,whoturnedabsolutelypu ple and
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nearlyburstoutcrying.llofthemlolledandgaped,staringattheseemedtohavegrownpaler,too;thehandsscarcelycrawled.
oundclock,which
Unpeudesilence,s'ilvousplaî,” came from M. Hugo. Hehelupapuffyhand.“Ladies, as it isso'otwwilltakenomorenotesto-day,butIwillreadyou,”andhepausedandsmiledabroa ,gentlesmile,“alittleFrenchpoetry.”
“Go—odGod!”moaned
rancieOwen.
M.Hugo'ssmiledeepen d.“Well,MeesOwen,youneednotatted.Youcanpaintyourself.Youcan'avemredinkaswellasyourblackone.”
Howwelltheyknewthelittlebluebookwithrededgesthathetuggeoutofhiscoattailpocket!Ithadagreensilmarkerembroideredinforge -me-nots.Theoftengiggledatitwhen he handed thebooround.PooroldHugo-Wugo!Headoredeadingpoetry.Hewouldbegin,softlyandc lmly,andthengraduallyhisvoicewouldsellandvibrateandgatheritselftogether,theitwouldbepleadingandimploringandetreating,andthenrising, risingtriumphant,ntilitburstintolight,asitwere,andthengradually again, it ebbed,itgrewsoftandw rmandcalmanddieddownintonothingnes.
Thegreatdifficultywas,fcourse,ifyoufeltatallfeeble,nottogett the giggles.Notbecauseiwasfunny,really,butbecauseitmadeyouqueer,silly,andsomehoashamedforoldHugo-Wugo. But—ohde toinflictitontheminthisheat…!
“Courage,mypet,”said
ve,kissingthelanguidcarnation.
emostawfulfitofeeluncomfortable,—if he was going
Hebegan,andmostoft egirlsfellforward,overthedesks,theirhadsontheirarms,deadatthefirstshot.OnlEveandKatiesatuprightandstill.KatiedinotknowenoughFrenchtounderstand,butEvesatlistening,hereyebrowsraise ,hereeshalfveiled,andasmilethatwasliketheshadowofhercruellittlelaugh,likethewigshadowsofthatcruellittlelaughflutterinoverherlips.Shemadeawarm,whitecupofherfingers—the carnationinside.Oh,thecent!Itfloatedac osstoKatie.Itwastoouch.Katieturnedawaytothedazzlinglightoutsidethewindow.
Downbelow,sheknew,therewasacobbledcourtyardwithstablebuildingsroundit.ThatwaswhytheFrenchRoomalwayssmelledfaintlyofammonia.Iwasn'tunpleasant; itwasevenpartoftherenchlanguageforKati —somethingsharandvividan — and—biting!
Nowshecouldhearaanclatteroverthecobblesandthejing-jngofthepailshecarried. And nowHoo-ho -her!Hoo-hor-her!asheworkedthepump,andagreat gush of waterfollowed.Nowhewasflingingthewateroversomething,ovrthewheelsofacarriage,perhaps.Ands esawthewheel,proppedup,clearofthground,spinninground,flashingscarletandblack,withgreatdropsglancingoffit.Adallhe while he workedthemankeptuphighboldwhistling,thatskimmedoverthnoiseofthewaterasabirdskimsoverthesea.Hewentawa —hecamebackagainladingaclutteringhorse.
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Hoo-hor-her! Hoo-hor-h!camefromthepump.Nowhedashedhewater over the horse'slegsandthenswo peddownandbeganbrushing.
Shesawhim simply—inafadedshirt,hissleevesrolledup,hischesbare,allsplashedwith water—andashew istled,loudandfree,andashemoved,swopingandbending,Hugo-Wugo's voicebeg ntowarm,todeepen,togathertogether,oswing,torise— somehoworothertokeetimewiththemanoutside(Oh,thescentfEve'scarnation!)untiltheybecameoneg eatrushing,rising,triumphantthing,bursingintolight,andthen—
The wholeroombrokein opieces.
“Thankyou,ladies,”crieM.Hugo,bobbingathishighdesk,overthwreckage.
And“Keepit,dearest,”s idEve.Souvenir tendre,”andshepoppedhecarnationdownthefrontofKatie'sblouse
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