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After five weeks in India, we visited the small city of Pushkar.  It is known, predominantly, as the home of the yearly Camel Festival during which thousands of people and camels (and tourists) descend on this little place to witness the spectacle of the camel trade on a  massive scale.  The rest of the year, it is “merely” a significant pilgrimage site for Hindus to visit one of only a handful of temples dedicated to Brahma, the highest god of Hinduism, the one and the everything.  So, we decided to take a look.

Unfortunately, and despite our five weeks of experience in India, we fell victim to the “temple tour and priest blessing”.  It’s kind of an awkward situation because upon arrival at this temple, we were quickly instructed to accept the flowers as offerings to the gods, and ushered through the complex at a quick pace, offering our bewildered “prayers” to each god.  Being both atheists, this was a little uncomfortable but we went along with it to avoid having to explain why we weren’t interested in what every other tourist comes to Pushkar to do.

Next, we were led back to our shoes (whew!) and were ushered to the Brahma ghat, the steps that lead down to the edge of the holy lake of Pushkar.  By this time, I was starting to feel really awkward because I’m not Hindu and because if I were a Hindu watching me as a tourist, I would be insulted by this pathetic patronage of one of the holiest of sites.  Regardless, we were both roped into a lakeside ritual which involved touching the water (not something I would have done on my own) and then receiving a bindi before being asked to make a donation.  Our donation was small and the priest, if he was, in fact, a priest, didn’t care and just dismissed us.

Outside the ghat entrance, we tried to be subtle about washing the bindi off our foreheads but a man begging for change caught us and was aghast that we would inflict such bad luck on ourselves and our families.  So, if anyone should experience any bad luck in the near future, it’s our fault and we apologize.  But we regret nothing!

I saw a man working at the train station today.  He is Indian, about thirty years old, maybe younger, and he sells snacks and beverages from a cart on the platform.  We are roughly the same age.  His customers are the people onboard, or who are about to board, the trains that pass by every few minutes from this station in Jaipur.  It’s cold in the mornings and evenings, but the tracks still reek of raw sewage (from the lavatories on the trains which empty onto the tracks) and the platform is never, never devoid of trash and dust and dirt and noise.  People with brooms cruise the platform constantly cleaning but the area remains trash strewn.

While we waited for our train to arrive, I made very brief eye contact with this man a couple of times as he paused with his cart.  And I wondered about him:  Is this a job to which he aspired?  Has he been working this same platform with this same cart since he was fifteen?  Is he selling his masala chips and chai to get through college?  Does he have an MBA already but has to stay in Jaipur to support a family?  Does he have a family?  Is this a job that he has worked towards for years and is now proud to hold?  Does he aspire to do more?  Is he happy?

I wonder, but I’ll never know.

I just cannot leave India without posting two of my favourite pictures of Jodhpur, a city known for its polo and its Brahmin-blue buildings.

Ages ago, the members Brahmin caste in this city painted their homes a vibrant, cerulean blue as a way of distinguishing themselves from the other lower castes, but the others caught on and pretty soon most of the homes were painted the same colour.  It’s a little deceiving of the representation of the highest caste in Jodhpur, but particularly beautiful when seen on high from the old fortress of Meherengarh.

Also, this is one of my favourite photos of the rickshaws lined up to ferry visitors from the fort back to the city.  To say these vehicles are ubiquitous in India is no exaggeration.

Zenana.  This is a new word for us:  it describes the area in which the women of a palace live.  In the more Northern parts of India, that means that the zenana enforces purdah, or the cloistering and covering of the  women of Islam.

What is most interesting about these areas is that though women were shielded from being seen from the outside world by intricately carved wood or marble screens, they could see out of them quite well and were able to keep an eye on the daily comings and goings of the palace.
In Jodhpur, the screens in the zenana were exquisitely carved and we were told that no two are alike.

In Jaipur, the Maharaja erected an entire building for the women of his palace to watch, through screens, the life outside their zenana.  Today, it is an emblem of the city , like the Empire State building is New York, and is a much visited monument.

Five weeks in India requires all males to experiment in growing facial hair, a task which resulted in a beard and then the king of moustashes, Middle America’s version of the FuManchu. The World Beard Championships actually files this under partial beard. I usually call it that-redneck-stache as FuManchu suggests so much more mystery and history than my facial hair exhibits.

It looks better than I could have possibly imagined, not that it looks good. Janet said it best, “you just look like a redneck.” Fortunately I haven’t needed a new wardrobe to make the look work, but I did need a new pair of sunglasses. The last pair looked so terrible that I had to wear Janet’s sunglasses until I could find a new pair. Somehow those feminine curves gave me a look more like the Edge than the traditional redneck. A cowboy hat I tried on at a street stall also looked surprisingly terrible, where as a grubby baseball capped worked fine. I passed on the beer shirt.

Q:  Currently, I am practicing purdah but while I am in India, I wish to travel about the city by car.  How do I travel while still keeping myself hidden from public view?
A:  That’s easy;  use a car converted for purdah, like the 1938 Cadillac Saloon that the Maharana of Udaipur arranged for the Maharani.  All the rear windows are covered by fine curtains so she could travel yet remain unseen.

Q:  I am interested in getting rid of as much of my money as I can in a short period of time; what is the quickest and most efficient way to relieve myself of my funds?
A:  First of all, be as visibly foreign as possible.  If you are wearing clothing inappropriate for the weather or which might be considered a mild affront to local custom, so much the better.  Arrive in a busy city late at night or extremely early in the morning and make certain that you do not have any small denomination bills.   If you know the name your hotel, ensure that the address is not accessible.  Accept the first offer of an auto-rickshaw from the many men that approach you and get into the vehicle without agreeing on a price.  When you arrive at a destination (note: the destination may or may not be your hotel), pay the driver the first price he requests.  As an added bonus, you will be required to pay twice as much for your hotel room for the duration of your stay than if you had arrived without the auto-rickshaw driver whose commission you must support.

Q:  Where can I get my teeth extracted?
A:  Visit any local “dentist” who has set up operation on the side of a busy, dusty street.  Most often, these men can be found near an especially busy intersection.  Take care to sit with your back to traffic and just ignore any bumps or brushes you may feel from passing motorists.

Q:  How do I listen to Hindi music?
A:  Loud or not at all.  It does not sound as good at low volume so turn it up until it is painful to the eardrum and then back it off a smidge.  Do this regardless of the time of day or night and/or the tastes or activities of those around you.

Q: While I am in India, I plan to mount an attack on a neighbouring region;  how do I prevent the elephants of the opposing army from attacking my horses?
A:  Follow the example of the medieval Maharajas: the best method  they had for resolving this problem was to outfit their horses with armour that extended beyond the nose to resemble a trunk.  The elephants will be tricked into thinking that a horse thusly attired is a baby elephant and they won’t attack it.

Q:  Are the pigs that live in the streets unfriendly?
A:  Only if you kick the garbage they are eating, even if it was just an accident.

Q:  I am interested in damning my soul and cursing my family;  how can I arrange this while in India?
A:  First of all, participate in a ritual blessing of your soul and those of your family by a man who may be a priest on the shores of the lake in Pushkar.  When he has completed the blessing (which, incidentally, you may not have requested but been kind of roped into) and asks for money for his supplies/services, respond with skepticism and offer a small sum.  After you pay this sum and are summarily dismissed, hide outside the entrance to the temple and surreptitiously clean the bindi from your forehead.  This should do the trick.

Q: How is cricket played?
A:  No idea, but you best learn before arriving in India or risk looking an ignoramus.

Q:  What do I do when a cow is head-butting me?
A:  If, while walking a street in a city or village in India, you encounter a cow or bull that, for whatever reason, insists on head-butting you, just give it whatever food you are eating.  Then, side-step the headbutting/potential goring by scurrying gracelessly around the side of the cow while perhaps uttering a little shriek of worry.  This will also provide some amusement for the Indians in the near vicinity.

Q:  While in India, I have taken a job digging up roadbeds for maintenance;  how do I go about my task?
A:  First, erect a home-made sign on the road to warn oncoming traffic of the road maintenance ahead; this sign need not be especially eye-catching or visible.  Position yourself on the road in the area which must be excavated, standing with feet shoulder-width apart.  Raise a sledgehammer above your head and smash it down on the flat road surface.  Repeat as necessary until the asphault breaks open.  Next, use a pick-ax to pry apart the asphault and then use a small shovel to dig out the earth underneath.  Some helpful, sari-wearing colleagues will be on hand to haul away the earth using metal bowls perched atop their heads.

Q:  In India, what do cows eat?
A:  The cows that live on the streets of India are free to eat whatever they please.  Their favourite food is vegetable matter but they are not picky and will eat cardboard boxes or plastic bags just the same.

Q:  While in India, can I drive my camels, oxen, elephants or herd of goats through busy traffic in any city?
A:  Why not?

Q:  What do I do if I need to throw up while aboard an intercity bus in transit?
A:  Open the window.  Throw up out said window.
If you are assigned to one of the upper berths on a semi-sleeper bus (the kind that have a row of bunks installed above the heads of the people sitting below), nevermind that the sick may re-enter the bus through one of the windows of the unfortunate people sitting below.  To your amusement, one of those unfortunate people may be a foreigner who will not have the means or opportunity to clean herself up until she reaches her destination after a period of 6 hours.

Q:  As a tourist in India, are there any instructions to follow while shopping at a city’s local bazaar?
A:  Yes.  See below.

Q:  While driving in India, when is it appropriate to use the horn?
A:  Use the horn only in the following circumstances:
1. when you are behind another vehicle that is moving or is stopped at an intersection or a traffic jam;
2. when you turn, or are about to turn a corner;
3. while doing something illegal such as, driving on the wrong side of the street into oncoming traffic.  Note: the horn should remain honking for the duration of the illegal manouever.
4. when you spy a friend, colleague or nemesis on the roadside and wish to attract his/her attention;
5. when the car is moving forwards or backwards.

Our first stop in Rajasthan was the romantic city of Udaipur.  It is known as one of the most beautiful cities in the country for its palaces – one of which is the largest in the province and another which is a beautiful white island in the middle of the city’s lake; from the shore, the latter looks like a a floating mirage at sunset.

However, what I didn’t know about Udaipur is that it is none other than the setting for the James Bond movie, Octopussy!  Having seen that movie, what- maybe ten times, I was very happy to take note of all things Bond whilst touristing through and around the city.  The Lake Palace is Octopussy’s island;

the Monsoon Palace on the top of the hill overlooking the lake is where Kamal Khan lives;

the Maharana’s 1934 Rolls Royce Phantom, which is on display in the Vintage Car Museum, is Kamal’s car;

the Shiv Niwas hotel is exactly as it is when James Bond is a guest there and when he takes dinner by the pool; the Jagdish temple looks the same as it does in the rickshaw-chase scene; Octopussy’s boat is still moored on the lake.

It was all very exciting for me and I didn’t tire of watching the movie each night as we ate dinner.  Many of the restaurants here show the movie each evening at 7.00pm so that we tourists can appreciate all the sights we’ve seen during the day –  apart from their historic, religious and artistic value, I mean.  It reminded me of how much that movie formed my first impressions of India.

Apprehensive about super-touristy Rajasthan, we dove deeper into Gujarat to visit the village of Sasan Gir – a few hundred meters of road lined with shops selling tea and thalis – and the nearby national park protecting the last wild, asiatic lions. Our hotel proprietor lured us to his cheap accomodation and then overcharged us for our safari, but we were happy to pay $3.75 per night for the best room we’ve had in India, which more than made up for the safari costs.

The next dawn we set out through the teak forest, which made me  dream of warm summers days visiting my friends and their thousands-of-dollars-worth of dog chewed teak patio furniture. A birder couple from Victoria joined us, keeping us informed on the birds in the park, such as the bulbul, the common kingfisher, the white breasted kingfisher, the grey heron, the cattle crane, the cormorant, the woodpecker, the green bee-eater, the treepie, the peacock/peahen, the laquin, the parakeet and the myna birds.  The park was filled with chittals, a kind of spotted deer, and we saw two sambar, an animal similar to an elk. Though the lions proved elusive that day, Janet spied two leopards. The first was just 30 feet away and we were able to watch it for several minutes while it hunted chittal. Unfortunately, the photograph makes it seem a spec on the horizon, rather than a close encounter.  Can you spot the leopard?

Dawn, previously used for sleep, is now a time for sitting at bus stations, haggling with rickshaw drivers, groggily chatting with new friends or, in the case of Junagadh, marking the half way point on a hike up the side of a mountain. Hindus and Jains climb the 10,000 steps of Ginar Hill, rocky and tall enough for me to call a mountain, for pilgrimages, such as couples recently married who wish to ensure a happy marriage. Those too old, too pregnant or too fat, whether tourist or Indian, hire two strong men with a pole and a sling to carry them to the top. This feat amazed us to the point where Janet, when she couldn’t resist taking a picture, was subjected to the stink eye from an elderly passenger .

Arriving in Junagadh the previous dawn with a lonesome Austrian traveller we met on the train, the three beds in the only available room suggested we should share and become friends. Francizca joined us on the trek up the hill, our calves crying and quivering much of the way, to find hills fading into the distance. We decided against climbing to the second peak, requiring another 700 step decent before a 1200 step ascent, as viewing that peak’s small temple was more appealing than a climb we may never have been able to finish. Instead, we opted for a cup of hot chai at a hilltop stall, well stocked with water and oil by porters of all ages and both sexes who climb that mountain in bare feet while balancing their heavy load of goods atop their heads.

Darkness obscured the view and our skin color for most of the way up, but on the way down, Indian tourists stopped us four times, several cameras being produced along with a request to take our picture, for which I jokingly started quoting at ten rupees. Of course, we took many photos of the people climbing the hill and of one happy, little guy who jumped around shouting “Photo! Photo!” until Janet took his picture.