
Rani Padmini’s monsoon palace within a small lake, within Chittorgarh fort atop a mountain in Rajasthan. Oh, and me and my husband.
Pardon me for the blogging hiatus. I’ve been traveling and “doing research” for the novel the last couple of weeks in India–my favorite subcontinent, my second home, and often my inspiration. A trip to the mighty fort of Chittorgarh has reminded me to keep the mechanics of writing at bay for now and just absorb the story because the story is everything, isn’t it? It is how we learn from the past, how we weigh the choices of the present, and how we size up the future.
This afternoon I was enthralled by a storyteller, a.k.a. my tour guide, a young man born and raised in the fort who is sharing the stories of this place with the world. This young man not only put us through our paces, walking us to vantage points to view nearly a dozen of the half-destroyed palaces and crumbling temples in the complex, but he was a passionate narrator of a version of the fort’s history. I say “a” version, because history is such a complex thing, and so many histories never really make it to the tour guides, but I don’t mean in any way to denigrate the stories he told.
These stories were anchored to the timeline and the regime in power, so I was submerged in a world of family dynamics over time as well as seemingly ever-battling cultures and noble choices on the battlefield. Now this is a tried and true approach to storytelling, but one that made me wonder about the impact that narrative choices have on listeners and readers. Let me relate one of these stories to you. Continue reading

