JOIN USWe flew out of New Delhi’s IGIA and into Delhi. Or so it seemed. The airport was bustling with the same multi-racial, polyglot mix of people with a preponderance of the sharp West Asian features, typical of north India.
But we weren’t in India: we were in Amman International Airport in Jordan. The kingdom became a constitutional monarchy a year before our Independence, but its heritage stretches back to Biblical times. The list of historical rulers of Jordan reads like an unrolling scroll of conquerors: Romans, Ptolemies, Byzantines, Ottomans, British and French and, eventually, after a certain amount of skullduggery by the Europeans, the Hashemite family from Saudi Arabia became the rulers of this terrain enriched with history, myth and legend.
Indian by nature
This, in many ways, parallels our own eclectic heritage. While our official guide was distracted by a friend, a bright young man at the reception desk of our hotel looked at our names, our passports, at us, frowned and addressed us in German. Gantzer is a German name. Then our guide bustled up, a volley of Arabic followed, and all was well. We Indians have a great advantage over all other nations: we have the world’s most diverse living culture and, thanks to the communication revolution, it is evolving exponentially.
We drove out of our hotel to the high Citadel where the bronze trumpets of history echoed in our minds. Massed far below was Amman. Cars like bright beetles coursed down the roads, between the high-rises of the capital of the kingdom. Many of those who had passed this way, left their mark on this town. On the citadel where we stood, the Corinthian columns of the ruined Temple of Hercules still rise. Near it lie the remains of the Christian Byzantine Basilica Church. But there were even older faiths in this heritage-wrought land.
We climbed the steps of the Archaeological Museum. Among the exhibits that caught our eyes was a goddess of the Nabatean traders. These adventurous people had established caravan routes from India to the Mediterranean, through Jordan. We’re not archaeologists, but their goddess looked Indian and a god with long locks seemed to have a Third Eye. Then there was a strange statue that the museum folk claim is the oldest sculpture known to science. It has a human-like appearance but with two heads emerging out of a single body.
As a young Australian visitor asked his father when we were there: “Could that have been an extra-terrestrial from Outer Space?” We filed that question away to mull over at leisure. There was also a rare display of some Dead Sea Scrolls. These were the scriptures of a sect called the Essenes whose monasteries dotted the silk and spice caravan route. We feel that their mores had been inspired by Jain and Buddhist beliefs and practices. They were also waiting for the birth of a Teacher of Righteousness: a tirthankar or a rimpoche, perhaps? The theory that Essene beliefs could have influenced early Christianity is intriguing.
Varied influences
Driving down to the base of the Citadel Hill, and into town, we walked to the enormous, fan-like, Roman Theatre, excellently restored. In its wings were the Folklore Museum and the Museum of Popular Traditions. The embroidery on the traditional robes worn by women indicated the communities to which they belonged. The jewellery was particularly interesting. It looked like the traditional ornaments worn by our women in Kashmir, Gujarat, Himachal, Uttarakhand, Punjab and Haryana.
Sadly, in Jordan, they seemed to be museum pieces only: we did not find any traditional jewellery in the souk. Otherwise this old and labyrinthine market was fascinating. An artist painted sand pictures, a third-generation spice seller also offered honey of six different flavours and dried yoghurt the size of tennis balls.
Across the road from the souk was a huge hoarding with a portrait of King Abdullah II in Army uniform. He was stocky, square-jawed and looked like the sort of young man that every mother wants as a son-in-law. In the morning papers was a picture of Queen Rania. In this Islamic kingdom, she was bare-headed, wore a top and trousers and, though she was the mother of a teenager, she was as slim and elegant as a fashion model.
The road to the future had, however, been blazed by Abdullah’s late father, the courageous and dynamic King Hussein. We drove up to his Royal Automobile Museum. Here, on display, was an astounding collection of the most desirable cars and bikes we have ever seen. They’re all in immaculate condition, including some really antique vehicles dating back to the time when the horse carriages and pedal cycles began to evolve into wheels powered by internal combustion engines. Backdrops and dioramas, with full scale replicas of the old shops and establishments, captured the ambience of that pivotal age when cars and bikes first started to impact on the world.
A visitor with an American accent told his wife, “He was a great, and greatly loved, ruler who was shot while trying to tackle his grandfather’s assassin, wrote a book called Uneasy Lies the Head, and spent the rest of his life walking a knife-edge surrounded by neighbours who were hostile to each other. He deserved all the relaxation he could get with these toys.”
The governance of tiny Jordan in strife-riven West Asia is a finely balanced tight-rope walk. We visited the enormous King Abdullah Mosque with its enormous, central prayer hall. Across the road was St Mary’s Orthodox Church. Jordan is thrice blessed. It lies in the crucible of three major faiths: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Some of the greatest wars of history have been waged by these three religions against one other. Happily, Jordan has grown beyond those medieval hatreds, realising that the future does not lie in reinventing the glorified past.
Mono-cultures can be wiped out by a single virus. Diversity is the secret of a civilisation’s success, and its survival, as this resilient little kingdom has proved.