Saturday, 12 January
Rajasthan is rich with history, culture and colour. It is reputed to be such a fascinating place that a large percentage of visitors to India tour only this state, the largest in terms of area. It is the land of the erstwhile Rajputs, their ancient fortresses safe-guarding a great history within their walls. It is the location of the Thar Desert, which borders Pakistan along the Sutlej-Indus river valley in the far west.
This trip has taken me through the tropical south, the plains of the east, the Himalayas of the northeast and areas in the north of India marked by the two great rivers, the Ganga and the Yamuna. I look forward to exploring the mighty desert in the west... on a motorbike!
Monday, 14 January
Leonard, an old Maltese friend I hook up with, and I, are on a mission. It takes us only two days to find, check and purchase a classic Royal Enfield motorcycle. In India it is a favourite machine, and Royal Enfield of India now sells motorcycles in over 20 countries. Originally a UK company since 1890, Enfield India began assembling Bullet motorcycles in 1955 and finally bought the rights to the Royal Enfield name in 1995.
We are the proud owners of a 350 cc Bullet. The Bullet was first designed around 1947 and a similar bike is still being produced today using the 1960 engine in 350cc and 500cc forms. It claims to have the longest continuous production run of any motorcycle. Various models for different market segments are also made but the classic Bullet is definitely a choice machine among the many travellers in India who prefer to travel the subcontinent by their own means.
Satisfied with the minimum paperwork required to change ownership from its previous Israeli owner, and assured by the specialist mechanic that the motorbike is ready to go, we prepare for our trip.
Tuesday, 15 January
Although Rajasthan has good inter-city transport facilities both in terms of railways and the bus network, the best way to see and experience it as a tourist is by road. The major cities are only 250-300km apart so trip-planning is rather easy, and there are several national highways crossing Rajasthan including the Delhi-Ahmedabad, the Agra-Bikaner, the Jaipur-Bhopal and the Bhatinda-Kandla highways.
We decide to go as directly as possible to Jaisalmer, the golden city on the far western border near Pakistan, and work our way back slowly through the historical cities and fortresses. Our first day on the road is promising. The roads appear to be very well maintained, there is much to observe along the way and there are plenty of opportunities to stop for rest and mingle with local people. This feels good!
Thursday, 17 January
It does not take long to realise that the reality of being on the road is not all rosy!
We travel by day and rest when the light leaves the sky, but we feel the impact of the climatic conditions. Summer temperatures may exceed 45°C but they drop below freezing in the winter. The cold chill rips through our bones in the early hours of the day so we must delay our morning departure. Ironically, from around April, riding through the dry desert would be like having a hair-dryer blowing inches from our faces!
We inevitably realise the cultural differences of being on the road in India as opposed to what we are used to. Leonard and I are both aware that we could probably get away with driving without brakes but not without a horn – and continuous horn-honking is indeed advisable – but we find the traffic rules rather dubious.
We drive up behind a ridiculously overloaded truck bearing the weight meant for two or more. Its obviously slow proceeding makes us wish to overtake it. Big letters on the rear end of the truck tell us to, “Blow horn and wait for signal!” We blow the horn to announce our presence but indicators flash on the right. We hesitate. Is this the signal or is this monster about to turn? The road looks straight so we lean right, notice the driver nodding at us from his side mirror and take the hint to accelerate forward. After this first time, we learn the system.
The simultaneously most frustrating and funniest moment is at non-sign-posted crossroads. Asking for directions is as good as anybody’s guess. Each question results in an arm pointing ahead, the wrist and fore-finger pointing 90 degrees to the left, the other three fingers bent at 90 degrees to point in a reverse direction to the arm, and the thumb pointing right. We have to appreciate that although they do not know which way to go, at least they try to be helpful!
Friday, 18 January
We take several diversions off the highways because it is much more pleasant to drive through towns and villages where we can catch a glimpse of “real life.”
You have to love the small villages. We experience a scary moment, which is really quite humorous. As we drive through the dusty road of a small village, we are attacked by a mob of about 60 children. We must drive slowly as the road will not allow much speed, and they are running behind us making a huge clamour while shouting, “One Rupee!” or “One pen!” I wonder what could happen if they catch up.
The next wonderful experience we had occurred in one of the many chai-stops during a day’s journey – 20-minute breaks to stretch our legs and have a cup of tea. It is always interesting hanging out with the local men populating the chai-stand. We sit with them on the rope stretching across a wooden frame that looks like a bed, communicating with hand signals and facial expressions and smiling a lot.
In this particular village we seem to cause some mayhem by our presence and soon a man is pushed forward through the crowd forming around us. He presents himself as “the teacher” at the local school – the only person in the entire village who can speak any English.
The teacher is brought to inform us that we are the first white people to come to his village in seven years, and that we are welcome. Jan Henderson from Austria was that person. He asked whether we would kindly tell them our names and where we are from? I wonder who will next pass through this village and hear that Leonard and Melanie from Malta were here in such and such a year.
Saturday, 19 January
We become used to the cheap dhaba (road-side restaurant) food with minimum nutritious value. Normally a thali (set-meal) promises rice, chapati (flat bread), daal (lentils) and at least two vegetable preparations, but we find that most dhabas offer only rice, a very diluted daal (more like water with a couple of lentils floating in it) and one plain potato preparation.
We settle for accommodation in any old hole – a road-side lodge or a dumpy hotel – any place to shower and rest our tired bodies at night. When we occasionally find more pleasant accommodation with a family we must pretend to be married, since the idea of a single male and female together would be just too shocking for our hosts.
It is while staying with a family that we first realise the water problem in Rajasthan, by their surprise and hesitation when we request a full bucket each for bathing. We find out that this particular town has not had any rain for four years. We begin to observe the women, waiting while a man vigorously works a water-pump for a trickle of water, or carrying their water-jugs by the road-side, obviously a long way from home. Hence we decide that bottled water is a safer option than the local water Leonard and I are usually confident in drinking.
Wednesday, 23 January
The landscape may be a relatively uninteresting, dry stretch of sand with a few bushes and lonesome trees scattered across it, but this only enhances the contrast of the bright colours worn by Rajasthani people, 58 million of whom could otherwise so easily go unnoticed in the vast wilderness. I would say it is the most beautiful and eye-catching of all traditional Indian dress, which varies so significantly from state to state.
The traditional Rajasthani dress for women comprises an ankle length skirt and a top, with a piece of translucent cloth used to wrap around the body and cover the head, both for protection from heat and maintenance of modesty. These dresses are usually designed in bright colours such as electric-blue, canary-yellow and bright orange, and often have several small mirrors and beads embroidered into the cloth.
Men wear colourful over-sized turbans, the colour of which sometimes denotes a particular tribe – a stark contrast to the white dhotis (loin cloth) and kurtas (long shirts) usually worn. It seems fashionable for men to wear earrings, and one particular flower design seems to be most common. Whereas chappal (flip-flops) seem to be a favourite footwear in most parts of India, here they like pointy slip-on shoes with a pointy flap across the top.
Thursday, 24 January
We stumble across a folk gathering in one of the villages where we stop for the night. Ballads sung in melodious tunes are accompanied by some traditional Indian instruments such as the sarangi and dholak, while highly decorated ladies dance. The folk music and dancing is both fascinating and mesmerising.
I feel dizzy watching the girls spin incessantly. I wonder how they do not fall down in a tumble. The mirrors on their clothing make their full-circle skirts glitter in the lamplights, creating a special effect. Ample jewellery decorate their hair and faces while bangles and ankle-bells add to the rhythm of the music. All around, people are clapping as the sound of song fills the air. The atmosphere is simply magical!
Rajasthani culture is rich with artistic traditions which reflect the ancient Indian way of life. Folk-music and dance is very much an integral part of village-culture. It is simultaneously cultivated and uncomplicated as it depicts day-to-day relationships and chores, with stories of love often based around fetching water from wells or ponds.
So far, Rajasthan appears to be a perfect example of how, in the absence of much external stimulus, basic human existence and creativity can be allowed to reach its zenith.
Episode 27 of Melanie Drury’s diary is due on 4 February
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