Jodhpur - boy

The blue city, and indeed it did look impressively blue from afar at the Meherangarh fort towering above it. Unfortunately, in order to go back to your room, you have to see it up close and it’s none too pretty. We stayed in an area where there were a few guest houses but outside these backpacker havens was only unsightliness; decrepit shops of necessity lining the decaying streets with their broken sewers bubbling over the collecting refuse. And of course the omnipresent auto-rickshaw drivers ready to pounce on their next customer.

We had a wonder around, following the stronger smells, and found the market. This was a lot more colourful than the rest of Jodhpur purely due to the number and variety of colourful saris and turbans floating around. It was also the place were one could (supposedly) find the best lassi in town. These were the kind the locals drink; just one type, plain and so thick with sugar you need a spoon to drink it. Think condensed milk concentrate and you’re half way there.

Our extremely talkative and possible mad hotelier suggested a ‘tourist taxi’ to our next destination, therefore giving us the chance to see two attractions en route. I’d never heard about these services but I guess it makes complere sense that there’s a market for the traveller who is willing to pay more for a hassle-less ride from city to city. As with everything in India, there’s a price to pay other than the rupee one and this one is getting used to Indian driver etiquette. I think I know the car language now. Beeping the horn on every corner - easy enough - means I’m going round this corner in the middle of the road at speed, everyone please move. Beeping horn and flashing lights on every corner; like the last one but for night time. Beeping the horn while overtaking signals the overtakee and means please slow down so I can pull in just in case the oncoming traffic is faster than anticipated. Of course it is possible that our driver simply connected the horn to his accelerator pedal. This would make sense as he informed us of the number of hours he had already worked and his lack of sleep and figured this could be a technique to stay awake. This was one reason we didn’t complain about him playing loud Bollywood music the whole way, at least we knew he was awake even when playing chicken with the oncoming cars (which he seemed to do an awful lot). Though, I think the manoeuvre that must take first prize was his ‘overtaking while concentrating on phone call’ manoeuvre. This involves concentrating on the call so much that you forgot you’re overtaking. Not only were we riding parallel around several bends but we were doing it so slowly that the car behind us overtook us on the inside! Actually, it’s not as dangerous as it seems; he has a miniature of Ganesha on the dashboard so nothing bad could possibly have happened.

Despite the drive (and of course we could have kept our eyes shut), the drive was worth it. Apart from seeing Ranakpur, yet another Jain temple (but one of the finest) and Kumbalgarh, a fort with some incredible views, we also saw a glimpse of Rajasthani life out there between the towns. For example, we passed a bizarre shrine built after a motorcycle accident five years ago. The motorbike is propped up next to it and the bike’s engine is said to start every month. Apparently there was no town here five years ago and now there is, everybody wanting to be close to the motorbike miracle, although stopping the accident from happening in the first place would be a healthier miracle one would have thought. We passed a few of Rajasthan’s tribal people; some using equipment and water collection systems that wouldn’t look out of place in a museum of the middle ages; and others (all women) using another ancient technique of blocking roads with stones and wood to gather money from passing cars and buses. Our driver was as perplexed as we were saying that the women were probably ‘mad at India’, but couldn’t get an explanation since they didn’t speak Hindi and he didn’t speak their language. Later we found out that the village women do this every year for the Holi festival and were lucky we only had one road block to pay our way through.