Read Online Out of Order by Charles Benoit - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charles Benoit
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the most breathtaking site of the day, five stories of rounded cupolas, lattice-covered balconies, stacked domes and repeating niches, all carved from a pink-red sandstone and accented in delicate white highlights. Now, as they stood inside, the snake charmer stacking snake-filled baskets on his head, Jason wondered if they had taken a wrong turn.
Unlike the Amber Palace, with its majestic chambers and its rich decorations, the Palace of Winds was more like a giant Hollywood set, a stunning façade held up by utilitarian supports, crammed into the middle of a busy market street. There were stone staircases to climb and plenty of windows to look out, all of them providing lattice-obstructed views of the dirty and crowded street below, but other than the large gray monkeys, the palace was empty.
“Known as the Pink City, Jaipur was founded in AD seventeen twenty-seven by the astronomer king Sawai Jai Singh,” Rachel said, reading the faded sign posted next to one of the dark, sloping ramps that led to the upper floors. “A royal decree mandated that all the buildings within the city walls be painted pink to simulate the red sandstone buildings of Mughal cities.”
“There’s no ‘u’ in color,” Jason said, reading ahead.
“There is if you went to school in India. Another holdover from the days of the Raj,” Attar said with an exaggerated British accent.
Rachel took a sip from her water bottle before continuing. “The Hawa Mahal, known popularly as the Palace of Winds….blah blah blah…nine hundred and fifty-three windows…yada yada yada…lace-fine carved screens…royal ladies watch the street hidden from view…today stands as a reminder…yeah, whatever.”
“You have to forgive her,” Jason said to Attar as they climbed a twisting staircase to the second floor. “If it’s not a train she’s not interested.”
Shafts of sunlight wedged through the narrow windows, spotlighting sections of carved white marble pillars and lobed arches that suggested that the palace wasn’t always so barren. The air on the street had been sluggish, weighed down by exhaust fumes and spices, but a light and steady breeze kept the hall cool. Darting in and out the windows, young monkeys tested their agility while their parents were content to sit on balcony railings and scratch at fleas.
“You can feed them peanuts,” Attar said, reaching into his pocket to produce a small white paper bag. “Just hold your hand flat and do not make any sudden movements.” He held his hand out to a monkey that sat on the windowsill. The monkey eyed the lone peanut, deciding if it was worth the effort. Attar added a second nut to his hand and the monkey snatched them both, swinging out the open window and along the carved front of the palace. A group of small boys gathered around Attar and he supplied them with peanuts, half of which they gave to the monkeys and half they ate themselves.
“Come here, little guy,” Rachel said and held out her hand to coax a jittery monkey off a stone railing. Its large eyes were chocolate brown and its fur looked soft to the touch. The monkey reached out a paw, drawing it back twice before he picked up the peanut.
“You are so cute I could just kiss you,” Rachel said and for a moment Jason wished he were a monkey. He set his backpack on the ground, unzipping a side pocket to get his camera.
“Look this way,” he said and lined up Rachel, the peanut and the monkey in the viewfinder. He pushed the shutter and a white flash lit up the dark alcove.
With the flash, the monkey’s eyes widened and with a fang-bared howl it leapt from its perch and charged, its sharp claws clattering on the stone floor. Rachel screamed and covered her face but the monkey tore past her and threw himself at Jason, who stumbled backwards, his arms flailing as he fell. The monkey stood and showed his yellow teeth, grabbed the backpack, and raced up the red sandstone wall, leaping off the balcony and out into the
Unlike the Amber Palace, with its majestic chambers and its rich decorations, the Palace of Winds was more like a giant Hollywood set, a stunning façade held up by utilitarian supports, crammed into the middle of a busy market street. There were stone staircases to climb and plenty of windows to look out, all of them providing lattice-obstructed views of the dirty and crowded street below, but other than the large gray monkeys, the palace was empty.
“Known as the Pink City, Jaipur was founded in AD seventeen twenty-seven by the astronomer king Sawai Jai Singh,” Rachel said, reading the faded sign posted next to one of the dark, sloping ramps that led to the upper floors. “A royal decree mandated that all the buildings within the city walls be painted pink to simulate the red sandstone buildings of Mughal cities.”
“There’s no ‘u’ in color,” Jason said, reading ahead.
“There is if you went to school in India. Another holdover from the days of the Raj,” Attar said with an exaggerated British accent.
Rachel took a sip from her water bottle before continuing. “The Hawa Mahal, known popularly as the Palace of Winds….blah blah blah…nine hundred and fifty-three windows…yada yada yada…lace-fine carved screens…royal ladies watch the street hidden from view…today stands as a reminder…yeah, whatever.”
“You have to forgive her,” Jason said to Attar as they climbed a twisting staircase to the second floor. “If it’s not a train she’s not interested.”
Shafts of sunlight wedged through the narrow windows, spotlighting sections of carved white marble pillars and lobed arches that suggested that the palace wasn’t always so barren. The air on the street had been sluggish, weighed down by exhaust fumes and spices, but a light and steady breeze kept the hall cool. Darting in and out the windows, young monkeys tested their agility while their parents were content to sit on balcony railings and scratch at fleas.
“You can feed them peanuts,” Attar said, reaching into his pocket to produce a small white paper bag. “Just hold your hand flat and do not make any sudden movements.” He held his hand out to a monkey that sat on the windowsill. The monkey eyed the lone peanut, deciding if it was worth the effort. Attar added a second nut to his hand and the monkey snatched them both, swinging out the open window and along the carved front of the palace. A group of small boys gathered around Attar and he supplied them with peanuts, half of which they gave to the monkeys and half they ate themselves.
“Come here, little guy,” Rachel said and held out her hand to coax a jittery monkey off a stone railing. Its large eyes were chocolate brown and its fur looked soft to the touch. The monkey reached out a paw, drawing it back twice before he picked up the peanut.
“You are so cute I could just kiss you,” Rachel said and for a moment Jason wished he were a monkey. He set his backpack on the ground, unzipping a side pocket to get his camera.
“Look this way,” he said and lined up Rachel, the peanut and the monkey in the viewfinder. He pushed the shutter and a white flash lit up the dark alcove.
With the flash, the monkey’s eyes widened and with a fang-bared howl it leapt from its perch and charged, its sharp claws clattering on the stone floor. Rachel screamed and covered her face but the monkey tore past her and threw himself at Jason, who stumbled backwards, his arms flailing as he fell. The monkey stood and showed his yellow teeth, grabbed the backpack, and raced up the red sandstone wall, leaping off the balcony and out into the
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