I was leaving Jaisalmer to travel back across Rajasthan. I was taking my leave of my companions for the last week and striking out alone again. My first task that Friday morning was to return to the Railway station at which I had arrived a week earlier to make my reservation for the 21.15 train to Jodhpur. I can't say enough about how good the Indrail pass was. As I said earlier the First Class rail pass guaranteed me a seat even though I was effectively turning up on spec. As I remember it mere possession of it also excused the holder from queuing. This privilege extended to all women too I think. Very civilised and genteel. Only men queue.
My notes say "Rly Reserv. Stuffed paratha + chai". I must have got my breakfast there. Then the notes give me very little clue as to how I passed the morning. I certainly had to pack and the next note around midday says as much. "Pack" is what the note says. Packing was a little easier after having rid myself of some of the useless kit when I posted that parcel home from Delhi. I was quite organised at packing by this time and had it down to a relatively fine art.
Having packed up everything and settled the hotel bill for the week (not very much given that it was only 4 nights and two of them were at the rate of 5 rupees each), all that was left to do was a spot more wandering around, relaxing and shopping.
The pictures above could have been taken on this day. The last is a view from the ramparts of the fort. There is a rather splendid building in the centre of that view. I'm not sure what it is.
This reminds me to mention that the Lonely Planet Guide warned readers that if they decided to go up to the ramparts they should be careful because it was a place where people went for a dump. They would stand on the ramparts and then squat down with their arses over hanging the inside and gaze into the distance as they evacuated their bowels. I saw no evidence of this but I can and do believe it. As I will mention, I am sure, people were not in the least bit squeamish about public defecation.
Luncheon was taken at the 8th of July and followed by "Apple pie + ice cream". The place was a delight. I bet it is still there. I wonder what it would be like now? Not quite the same, I fear. The owner was a very friendly chap and a devotee of Lord Krishna. For some reason I often remember him saying "Thanks to Krishna!" in the same way that some others would give thanks to God or Allah (in my view the same). He had a very happy smile and seemed very content indeed.
Over chai and probably a bottle of Limca (which, as the advert for it went, I drank because I liked it) we talked about our planned itineraries and thanked each other for the company which had been good. We swapped addresses etc and chatted about our experiences thus far. Grace had a good story about her and Mandy's experience in Jaipur. It was on my itinerary but what happened to her wasn't likely to happen to me.
She said she and Mandy had visited Jaipur before I met them at Jodhpur railway station. In Jaipur they had had a guide of sorts. Grace is pictured below at Hari's "house". She was a pretty young white woman with fair hair and womanly proportions. Two things need making clear here.
First, most people in India when I was there were unlikely to be considered overweight. Nearly everyone was slim and trim. Most people were vegetarian and Hindu. The diet was not very fattening and few people had more money than they needed to cover their essential needs. Basically being slim or thin was the consequence of not being rich. Slim is not particularly sexy. What is attractive is a little more weight, obviously not too much but enough to be curvaceous and voluptuous. It carried connotations of wealth and it was what everyone aspired to.
Second, the general stereotypical Indian view of white women was not particularly flattering. I can honestly say that I don't think I saw any public demonstrations of affection between Indian men and women in all the time I was there. I hadn't had any experience of Indian cinema by that time but I think it is true to say that Indian morality did not allow any suggestion of sex or even any physical contact on screen. That was certainly not the case when it came to western TV and cinema. The impression formed by Indians from what they saw was that western women were generally quite promiscuous.
Of course they are not (well, not all of them) and neither would it be true to believe that Indians were prudes. I didn't go to Khajuraho but the sculptures there suggest a fairly broad minded attitude to sex and India is the land where the Karma Sutra (Aphorisms on Love) was written.
Grace had it all so far as Indian men were concerned. She was clearly wealthy enough not to be thin and if what you see on television or the movies was true there was a chance that she might, in fact it was more likely than not that she would under the right circumstances, or any circumstances in fact.
This guide was a perfect gentleman and clearly very keen to put himself out for Grace and Mandy. Nothing was too much trouble. He couldn't be shaken off. Grace and Mandy said that they certainly would not have seen so much of the Pink City without him. The time came, however, for Grace and Mandy to leave and the man accompanied them to the station and waved them off.
The Indian trains were so very comfortable because they were not particularly fast. They proceed across the landscape at a very unhurried pace. They also stop at stations quite frequently and stay at the stations long enough for hawkers to board the train and run up and down with trays held at shoulder height shouting things like "Pakora, Pakora, Paklora!" and "Biriani, Biriani and Biriani". People appear outside the window proffering items that travelers might need. Things are loaded and unloaded, probably the other way around. The galley is restocked. You have time to get off and buy a drink on the platform. You might be in a station for 10 or 15 minutes.
At the first stop after leaving Jaipur, about 40 minutes after setting off, this was the case for Grace and Mandy. Suddenly there was a little commotion and their guide from Jaipur pushed his way to the side of the train and proffered an envelope to Grace.
It was a declaration of love. A letter explaining how he had never met anyone like Grace in all his life and he had realised that he was in love with her and could not let her leave with declaring it to her but at the last minute in Jaipur his courage had failed him. Then he had immediately regretted not having done so, sat down and wrote this letter before jumping onto his two wheeler - an Indian version of a Vespa scooter - and headed across country to catch up with the train and try to deliver this letter.
The letter finished poignantly: "These are just my feelings, if you don't like, don't mind!" It wasn't W B Yeats' "Cloths of Heaven" but there was something poetic about it.
After our time in the 8th of July I wandered down the street to the Tailors' shop to collect some shirts I had asked to be made up. They hadn't been ready the day before. On the short walk I was approached by a man who I supposed was in his late forties although he looked and could actually have been older. The man struck up a very peculiar conversation with me. He was very polite and asked if he could ask me a question. I acquiesced and his question was: "What is the principal crop in your country?".
I had just spent an hour or so packing and while doing so had given in to the temptation to have a tiny little smoke in the process (why not? what harm could it do?) so I was a little spaced out; I had just had incongruous apple pie and ice cream in a magical fortress city in the Thar desert and I am suddenly put on the spot as to precisely what the principal crop was in my country. What's your answer? He had me stumped. What is the national crop? I said I didn't really know. We passed a few moments discussing some possibilities but for the life of me I couldn't be certain. I'd never thought about it. I wonder if I didn't come over as rather ignorant of my own country? After a few exchanges I had to thank the man for the interesting chat and move on. I couldn't really keep it up. What kind of an opening conversational gambit is "What is the principal crop of your country?". The man was very grateful to me for the few moments conversation and bade me well. I don't think that he really wanted to know the answer to his question.
After collecting my shirts, Grace and I entered an Aladdin's cave of a shop carved into the walls of the fort (or so it seems in my memory now) where some of India's finest sales techniques were gently applied. We bought stuff. It is really hard not to. The things on show are so lovely and it seems wrong to leave without them. We did want to buy something but clearly couldn't give away any signs of enthusiasm. Grace and I tried our best not to seem too interested in anything in particular but afterwards, as what we had actually did buy was wrapped up, the shopkeeper told us that he had decided precisely how much we were going to spend as soon as he had set eyes on us and that we had not disappointed him. The main thing I got was the elephant I mentioned. Grace had her eyes on it too but I think its size and weight may have put her off. I didn't care about the size or weight. I just had to have it. It is still a wonderfully tactile thing 19 years later and well worth the equivalent of a couple of months rooftop accommodation at the Pushkar Palace.
The Lonely Planet Guide (still lost) recommended the Government Emporium as a place to shop too and we called in there afterwards. I bought a rough woollen camel blanket such as might have been made in the village we had visited in the desert. The photographs of the elephant above include the blanket. My filo-fax notes say "Shirts pick up. Govt. Emp. pack" I had packed already but I had to pack again having acquired more stuff.
Then it was a last dinner with my friends at Monica's. I had the "Desert Thali". It was good but not a patch on the real thing cooked on a fire in the desert!
I boarded the train sometime shortly before 9.15pm. I don't remember if the train departed on time but it certainly did not leave before that time.
