Part Two: Desi Thali - Travels through India in 2003

Jaisalmer
Having reached a small crowd of waiting and excited people on the backside of an old building, I was in Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer the old kingdom of Raja Jaisal, an important point in the nonextant old spice trade route between India and Central Asia. The fort was the township from an era of seemingly medeival times. This was the old world charm hunted by the many many tourists who had been visiting Jaisalmer in their jaunts through Rajasthan. The bus for whatever reason does not actually go all the way to Jaisalmer proper and stops just short of it leaving you to figure out a way of getting to it. Looking at the crowd as I stepped out the bus, I would have guessed that there were no tourists who ever visit this place and I was the first outsider they had seen in years. I was badgered with requests for hiring a taxi, a hotel room in the finest Jaisalmer has to offer, whatever else lost in the noise and confusion of being surrounded by 10-15 loud voices after having spent a nite with absolutely no social interaction. My bag was nearly taken from hand while I tried telling them they were wasting their time since I had already made reservations in a hotel. Telling them that seemed like a voice of reason to stop them from badgering me, however it made things a bit worse, since I was asked which hotel (fair enough), I told them and promptly told me with a smile "Ah yes, it burnt down last nite" "Burnt down?" A bit farfetched to believe but not totally improbable, especially given there was no one there from the hotel. By this time the number of touts had dropped down to a team of two, thjough only one of them was the one doing all the talking, he was a youngish, a bit thughish looking fellow with an unshaven face and a long mustache growing downward. He asked me to call Deepak Resthouse and even walked me through a narrow alley to the PCO, even though we could have walked around the bus station building. The minute I stepped into the narrow alley, I was exceedingly cautious, though the fact that I might be mugged there seemed rather ridiculous, not impossible though. However there was indeed a PCO there and the level of incredulity the tout showed was pretty amazing cause he even gave me the buck, which I turned down, and called the hotel and was told"Somebody is coming, they had some car trouble and they are on their way and don't worry and don't let the bastards bother you!!! " As soon as I hung up and walked out, I could see a jeep headed our way and for a minute it looked like the jeep would straight into the building I was standing in front of, at the end the driver made a rather sharp left turn and stopped dramatically in front of me, with the dust rising so I could not really see anything except that somebody had jumped out of the jeep in front of me and was yelling "Deepak". I must say I was rather relived to see him, the trip had certainly started of well. It was an old Mahindra Jeep with the back open and there was just a frame left on the back. I got in the front of the jeep with one of the guys from the hotel taking my bag and sitting down in the back. At this point the persistent tout smiled and waved me goodbye in a casual way.

We reached the fort and at the entrance of the fort we left the driver and the jeep and switched to a bike on which we drove through a lot of narrow alleys. The inside of the fort was filled with narrow shaded alleys passing through ramshackle houses, there were wires running above us and there were a few people walking through very comfortably doging the motorcycle coming at them. There were some people kids playing cricket in the narrow ways and I could hear pressure cookers going off and the smell of great food, on the front porch of the houses there were chillis being dried out. The road in the alley were made of flat stone and I imagine when it was planned 800 years ago, it was hardly conceived as a road more as a foot path for people to walk though, maybe even a horse, but certainly not motorcycles and scooters. Deepak Resthouse was an old brick structure with an large stoneyard in front with old signs leaning near the entrance of the main hotel building with the usual signs of internet, e-mail apart from the other fascinating facilities available there. The door to the hotel was narrow and had an idol embedded in the wall above it, on entering the hotel I was showed into the main lobby area on the left of the entrance. It was a small room and looked like a police station with a large table in the center and a few benches all around with a man Deepak, the owner of Deepak Resthouse, holding court talking in hindi and rajasthani. There were a few travelers, many local people sitting around talking. I was shown a couple of rooms, most of the rooms were small but the size was not what you were looking for anyway in this place, it was the brilliant views out from the fort outward. The room which I did not take was a amazingly romantic room on the third floor, the winds gently blowing the curtains at the window, the room filled with diffused sunlight, a sense of quiet and calm, where one could lay in bed and look out the windows the whole day probably, it just seemed so idyllic and charming. However since I was on my own I just took the boring room no. 2 on the first floor right next to the court of Deepak. It was just a basic room with whitewashed walls, a tubelight, and some Rajasthani wall hangings, behind the double bed there was a recess in the wall shaped into shelves. The window looked out from the fort onto the town of Jaisalmer outside of the fort. There was some space between the wall in which the window was and the ramparts of the fort and it had some shrubs growing amid the soil and stones. On both sides of the window one could see the seemingly unending golden bastions.

I spoke to Deepak about what might be good places to start with and he suggested going that evening to Sam Dunes, the national park in the Thar desert, since I was not sure how many evenings I might be in Jaisalmer. He did not try to sell me any camel safari, which is quite a popular tourist attraction. I did not feel like riding poor animals across the desert sand. Also it was at his suggestion that I landed up at tourist reception center on the main road to get a map and talk to them about places to see. Here is where I had to also book my ticket to the Rajasthan Tourism organized evening trip to Sam. The tour was to start at 3 pm, I had sometime to kill, so I went back outside and the auto I had taken was still there. I told him I had to see a bunch of things outside of the Haveli and he said he can take me around, he was local and it would not take too much time. I can pay him what I like at the end, it seemed fine with me. I already knew I would save enough time sticking to that guy and he did not seem like he was out to make a fast buck. We drove first to the Gadisar Tank, which used to provide the water supply to the fort in olden times, it was right near the Tourism center. It was now just a peaceful looking lake with no people around, there was a temple nearby with steps leading down to the lake like the ghats of a river. In the lake there was also an island which had a beautifully carved gondola on stilts probably when the lake level was high the island disappears. While there were some boats around, there were no other people around. A large number of piegons were sitting atop the gondola and my driver/guide told me that the lake is on the map for migratory birds.

There are a large number of havelis or mansions in Jaisalmer which are constructed of sandstone and exquisitely carved. I spent sometime looking through them, they were mainly built in the 19th century though there were some additions to at least one of them which was done in a tradional style recently. The latticed carving on them were stunning though there was not much to see from the inside. There were some stunning views of the whole Jaisalmer fort looking at it from the south. I had decided that I wanted to actually leave Jaisalmer and move on to my next destination the next day, I mentioned this to my driver and of course he had an in with some bus company and he took me to the bus stand near Hanuman crossing where I bought a ticket to Mt. Abu leaving from Jaisalmer the evening of the 31st of January. Near Hanuman crossing there were a large number of bus company agents sitting like they were selling lottery tickets and each one of them tried to pester you to get their ticket, even though they were all selling tickets mainly for the same few buses which left Jaisalmer. We drove back to the fort and I ended my tour around the city at city palace. I gave my driver around Rs. 100 , since he seemed rather useful and non-bothersome. He seemed happy with that.

The city palace within the fort is the palace of the last ruler, it is a multilevel structure and it is part museum, part scenic views looking out over the rest of the structures within the fort. Looking out of the fort in itself might have been a majority of the town at some ancient time but over time the large number of structures outside of the fort far out number the people living inside. In some of the structure of the city palace there is again the intricate carving which while prevalent in a lot of mansions is still quite an amazing display of artistic talent and skill. All of the buildings in Jaisalmer have a desert like color to them. It was time for me to go to Sam Sand Dunes, I had to get back to the tourist center and the jeep left with just me. My driver was a surly man, who did not respond to any of my conversations. We drove to another hotel and he just parked the jeep and got out and walked away. I walked into the hotel and was told that he would be back in a few minutes and that they were waiting for a few couples who would also be going to the Dunes that evening. In a few minutes two couples walked down, they were really young and probably looked like they were bearly 18 years old and it was the first time traveling. They were giggling and chatting in a mixture of Hindi and Gujarati, some of which I could follow.
The driver did not say a word to anyone he just got in and started the jeep and started moving and stopped as though realising that maybe he needs to wait till evryone gets in. The jeep was covered in the back and had a door at the back but did not really have any doors in the front. He was dressed in dirty brown trousers and a shirt with a purple handkerchief around his neck. The couples in the back were back to giggling and talking excitedly. We drove around town till we reached the access road to Sam Dunes, maintained by the Army, for security. Jaisalmer and Sam was close to the border with Pakistan and there was an army base near there.

As soon as the driver reached the near empty Sam Dunes road he just accelerated till he was driving at an insane speed and the back door of the jeep seemed to be vibrating constanly. By now the couples in the back were dead silent. I looked back at them once and smiled but they were all tightly clutching to the seat. As we were travelling in a distance we could see colorfully dressed Rajasthani women walking across the road. We were still a good distance away, but the driver figured it was time to test if the horn of the jeep worked. The jeep was rather old and the horn at the wheel did not exist and now was mainly two wires which had to be joined together to make it work. As I looked at the driver who was making the effort to hold the two wires together sounding the horn while we went thundering down the road at great speed toward the poor women, I noticed he had a grin on his face and seemed to be enjoying this. Of course the women were far enough that they were safe but I can imagine how it must have been to have a jeep come towards you at great speed with the horn blaring. Sam Dunes were kind of empty when we reached there, the driver told us to meet him back at the parking lot as soon as the sun had set or he was going to leave us and grinned at us.

I walked around on the dunes and was immediately joined by an old man with a camel persuading me to ride the camel. The poor camel really looked undernourished and had the skin missing around the knees. I politely declined and walked away to the protests that I would his "Bouni" customer. I walked around for quite a distance and there was hardly of chance of getting lost, even though there were a few places where I found myself all alone with no idea which direction I came from, on walking up a dune I would see a number of people walking around waiting for the sunset, supposedly a beautiful sight. That evening was a cloudy evening and the chances that the sunset would be visible rather slim. As I was walking around I could see a lot of Indian tourists and a few foreign tourists, many of whom were trying out camel riding. Many camel drivers though did not have any success like my friend who I met again here. He continued to pester me till I told him I will pay him Rs. 10 if he stands with the camel and I take his picture and then maybe he will let me be and actually find someone who would ride the camel. After I had taken his picture and given him the money, he immediately began again if I would now ride his camel. I let out a loud exasperated sigh and walked away. I came across a indian woman waiting around while her boyfriend finished his camel ride. I spoke to her and after the usual pleasantaries she said she used to be in Pennsylvania and hated it since she was in Harrisburg and there was never anything to do around there, she and her boyfriend lived in Toronto now . We walked our ways and after walking for a few minutes I figured I will look at my lonely planet to plan out the evening after I get back. I realised that I did not have it with me and it must have fallen out of backpack, travelling without my well marked and read guide made me feel naked. I looked around to see if I could spot it anywhere and of course all I could see were dunes of sand and a few people here and there and some camels. While I was looking I ran into the Canadian living Harrisburg hating indian woman, she said "Oh, I think some people on a camel found some book and they were riding out that way". Walking toward the three possible options I had, I chased a red herring and finally managed to find the camel with his load of driver and two people. The driver gave me my book back and immediately asked for a reward. I was ready to pay him something when one of the passengers slapped the guy on the back and said "Friend, do not pay him one paisa, I spotted the book while we were seated here and there is no need for a reward". At this the driver protested that it was his camel and if that was not there, they might not have been on top of it to find it. This made the passenger even angrier and he sent me away, saying if I did not go immediately he would jump down and snatch the book away and burn it, and with that he started yelling at the camel driver that if the sand did not exist, if his parents had not had sex, he would never have existed. Leaving them arguing about what came first the sand or the camel I went away from that crowd. I went to a secluded spot nearer to the parking lot and there was a tea stand there, as I walked past it somebody yelled at me "Oi, DeepakResthouse", I turned to see it was my friend the persistent tout and he smiled and said "I hope you did not mind me yesterday, that is what one has to do, it is after all the stomach we all feed". I smiled back and said nothing. At this I was invited to a special tea, which made me all the more cautious and I said someother time and walked away. The sunset caused a large group of people to stand atop sand dunes looking westward, unfortunately for the crowd the glorious spectacle of the sun going down on the golden Thar desert was not to be. We got back into our jeep and drove back, it was dark by the time we got back to near the for. Although I was supposed to be dropped back to the front gate of the fort, I was dropped back at the hotel where the other tourists were and the driver just walked away, ignoring my inquiries of if he was going to drop me back.

I walked through the calm winter night, I could hear some Rajasthani music playing somewhere, the fort looked wonderfully lit and looked indeed like the Sonar Kila. Finally I reached the main entrance of the fort and walked to get my dinner. I had decided that I felt like a traditional Rajasthani thali and the place to get it within the fort was Vyas Meal Service. The bylanes within the fort were dark and minimally lit, there were a few well lit spots on the street. Wandering through the lanes I soon found a board Vyas Meal Service, atop the entrance to what looked like somebody's home. I knocked and walked in hesitantly thinking I must not be reading it right. There was a kitchen on the right side where there was a really old couple sitting and making rotis and stirring some vegetables and the kitchen looked like it had been really used that evening. Also in the entrance there were a few boxes of Masala tea with their name on it. By this point the old lady noticed me and I started apologizing for intruding and she said " if you want a thali dinner it is Rs 100 and the seats are upstairs, seat yourself and the food will be up in a few minutes." I walked up a steep set of stairs to a loft which was partly covered and looked like a set up for a family function with a few foldable tables and chairs set up. There was a couple sitting at one of the tables and I took the other long table. After a few minutes the girl spoke and she asked me where I was from and she did not introduce herself but introduced her boyfriend Charlie, which I thought was amusing. She was from the US but he was from Canada. He did not speak much, she and I discussed the other places of travel where we had been. It was the end of the journey for the two of them having travelled to Varanasi, Rishikesh, Haridwar, Udaipur and were heading out to Jaipur. I asked them about hotels in Udaipur since I was going to be there in a few days and was planning on making my bookings before I leave from Mount Abu. She smiled curiously and asked me if I did that for all places. I said it was a good idea for me to do that. She gave me the name of the place they stayed and I recommended Karni Niwas in Jaipur to them. At this point, I could hear somebody coming up the stairs, it was the old lady balancing two large trays and was leaning forward considerably and I jumped up to help her and she said "Sit, I will bring yours up in a few seconds", leaving me wondering what prompted such old people to work so hard and weather I would be working as hard when I was that old. My thali came up a few minutes later and the spread of subzi, rotis, rice, dals, yogurt and a gulab jamun was delicious, absolutely the best (and only) meal I had that day.

I walked through the dark alleys, there was the usual night noise of modern india, television floating through open windows. In front of some houses, there were people sitting and talking, probably a post dinner relaxation time. Deepak Resthouse had a few young people sitting in the Police station like office, there was no sign of Deepak. I was welcomed with greetings of" Hello Boss" as I walked past them. I was tired and wanted to sleep on a clean bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard sounds of a bell, it seemed to be like the bell tied around cattle, I would like to say even more specifically a goat or a cow, and sure enough when I looked out my window on the well lit bastions of the fort there was a cow grazing through the few plants growing amid mainly rocks. I wondered how had the cow ever got up there so high, after a few minutes of munching the cow moved on out beyond my window on to the next window to probably wake and leave somebody else with the same wonderment.

The next morning when I woke up the day outside looked cloudy and I sat on my bed for a few minutes just looking out at the cool overcast morning.

Part One- Nahargadh Fort, Jaipur

Part One- Nahargadh, Jaipur

Part One- Hawa Mahal, Jaipur

Part One- Gate, Old City, Jaipur

Part One- City Palace, Jaipur

Part One: Desi Thali- Travels through India in 2003

Jaipur

There were no direct flights from Bangalore to Jaipur. The only flight was flying from Bangalore to Bombay in the evening and you spent 8 hours in Bombay and caught the flight from Bombay to Jaipur at 6 AM. So, on the evening of January 27, I bid goodbye to my parents and caught a flight to Bombay. I landed at the arrivals section and as soon as I walked out was approached by dozens of touts asking if I needed hotel accommodation. I had a good mind to tell them to buzz off, as I will come to realize I will be provided with innumerous occasions during my travels to do that. I just ignored them and went upstairs to the departures terminal. The airports always look the same, I actually hate the airport look, so officious looking not a smile anywhere, a bunch of tired looking people before they even begin the journey. Most of the people working on the counters of the different airlines look hassled, probably understandable given the number of people with whom they have to talk. I walked to the customer service for Indian Airlines (IA) and gave her my plane ticket and asked her if there was a lounge in the airport for me to spend the next 6 hours or so while I wait for my flight. She said "Oh, we can out you up at Centaur hotel". Thinking of having to wake up at 4 in the morning and having to come back here, I was rather more inclined towards staying in the airport if possible. Having sensed this she said or you can spend the waiting time in the lounge there and pointed in a direction of largish cubicle straight across the airport (or so I thought). That seemed fine with so I picked up my bag and went to the room. There were two options there; the executive lounge or the reserved lounge, I figured the reserved lounge was what she had indicated and walked right in. It was empty, it was clean and had 2 large couches and 4 smaller couch like seats; the pattern on the couches was a non-noxious blue with silver flora in them. In addition there was a standard looking TV on a black TV stand. It was an oldish TV but was working all the same. I watched the TV for a few minutes and as usual there was nothing interesting playing on it. I walked around the lounge and saw a sign in Hindi which said the room was reserved for MPs or other political or governmental people. The look of the room should have tipped me off, it was very drab looking including a green phone. I was tired or probably lazy to walk back to the IA counter so I just ignored that. I took my shoes off and settled down on the couch reading 'The talkative man' by R. K. Narayan. I looked around the room and there was a sign there in a frame saying that this room is for MPs and such. I was like that cannot just be true, since the Indian Airlines representive did point me in this direction. Or once more maybe I chose to ignore the sign. After reading my book for a few minutes I fell asleep.

I woke up in probably half an hour to sounds of somebody yelling " Oye..Aiy". Of course somewhere I knew what the yelling was about so I opened my eyes slowly and there was a short,stout man standing in front of me asking me what was I doing here and to get out this is only for political people. And he was muttering how I obviously seemed educated and yet I am ignoring the sign in the frame, to which he pointed. I spoke to him in a calm fashion and said I was told by the IA lady that I could spend a few hours here. He calmed down and said this does not belong to IA and you should go back there and ask them and he walked with me to the counter. The lady looked at me and said" Yes Sir, can I help you" with the complete look of do I even care. I explained the situation and she said I meant the other lounge and and turned around and there were orangish plasticy chairs right next to this room. I walked back got my bags and went to the chairs, some of them were cracked and were among the most uncomfortable things I sat on (that would change over the course of the next 17 days). They looked like some pictures I had of the airport in the late 1970s, I was amazed that in the 25 years they had not changed the look of that. The chairs were the least of the things which were my problem over the next few hours, the Santacruz airport is infested with mosquitoes; the size of which were amazing. The size and number were amazing, however in spite of that I figured it was around 11:30 in the night, I should try to get some sleep. Not happening, I tried to move around and even that was of no use with these creatures. Finally it just came down to killing them, I thought if I killed enuf of them I would be able to sleep or sit and read. Over the next 10 minutes I killed a lot of them, I kept count...40 and then I gave up, they were just far too many.
I walked around got some tea and just walked and sat till it was around 4 when the counter was supposed to open.

There were signs indicating which counter would cater to which flight. I went to the one which said IA flight to Jaipur at 4 AM. There were hardly any people around. After a few minutes somebody came by letting us know it has been changed to counter number 5. The few people who were in the line went there. I stood in the line since there was nothing else to do. At around 4:15 a slowly ambling man showed up behind the counter. He was a stout surly man with a mustache. He wore a bush shirt and pants. He sat down at the seat and moved back and forth with great concentration writ on his face. He go up frowned at the seat and tried it again and feeling it was not comfortable got up again and adjusted the cushion of the seat and sat back shifted a bit left and then right till he seemed satisfied. Finally he seemed to have recognized our presence and he asked the first person to approach the counter. Maybe it did not take that long but given the time probably everything including my addled mind moved slowly. I checked one of my bags in and went to through the security check to the terminal. There were very few people there and the seats served two gates, another flight going to Delhi. The waiting area seemed a bit dark with only a few lights on. Finally the boarding of the flight was announced and some people including me boarded the flight.

There was a couple sitting on the flight next to me, they were dressed a bit traditionally and kept asking me what was announced on the speakers, which was in English first. Before I could say anything the hindi version came on they were listening to it with utmost attention. Both of them seemed rather serious so I thought that maybe they were flying on a family emergency. I tired talking to them a bit, but they were not really talkative and then the flight just filled up with a plane full of people, literally. There were at least around 40 school kids who boarded the flight and suddenly the flight was just filled with the cacophony of 40 kids trying to sit down with their friends. All the kids were of Indian origin but seemed to be from UK. They were just running up and down the aisles tryting to find seats they wanted to sit in. "Vicky, I want to sit next to Nikki, no no Simran you cannot sit there. But you said I could sit there. Children settle down". Finally they all settled down after what seemed like eternity.

Jaipur airport was a quaint little airport, remined me of Bangalore from the late 80s. We had to walk down the steps straight onto the runway and walk to the terminal exit. The air was foggy, smokey and crisp. There were a few guards and officials directing the passengers in the right direction. 'Jaipur Airport Welcomes You'. The terminal was a small one with two converyor belts. All the passengers gathered around there including an agitated 'gentleman' who kept shoving me with his suitcase so he could get ahead closer to the belt, even though they had not even started moving yet. I just stepped away from the crowd and stood at the end of the conveyer belt. The kids had gathered at the begining and as soon as the belt started moving they were jumping up and down with the excitement of, I guess kids on a school trip. As soon as any nice bag came through they would pick it up and ask if that belonged to any of them and soon I saw my bag come through after it had been picked up and dropped back on the belt by them. I picked up my bag and left the agitated man and the kids and happily walked away to the pre-paid taxi counter. Paid a ridiculous official fare of Rs. 200 for the short distance (14 kms) to the city.

When I walked out and on the other side of the pre-paid taxi counter there was somebody waiting there. I walked with him to the white ambassador taxi (what else), in our walk he was accompanied by a younger man. We got into our cab and I told him where I wanted to go. Having looked through the Lonely Planet guide to North India, I had decided to try to go to Karni Niwas near the main post office and relatively close to the bus stand. As we were travelling the younger nervous looking man was prodded by the older driver and finally he turned to me and asked me in a hesitant voice if I was planning to seeing the city. He said he had a private taxi and he could take me anywhere I wanted and will show me the whole city. At this point he was prodded again by the driver and he fished out a business card with his e-mail and cell phone number printed prominently. He told me I could have the car with driver for 8 hours for Rs. 600, I said I would think about it which in my lingo translated to No thank you. They dropped me off at the entrance to the road leading to the Hotel, by this point I was asked if I needed a hotel room, I said I was planning on staying at Karni Niwas , the driver said "Oh that is not very good", the youngish tout said "No that is good, but we know better". I just asked them to drop me at the intersection since from the map I knew where to go and they seemed to be getting a tad annoying. They yelled from the window after I started walking, "Think about it, call us."

Karni Niwas was pinkish colored bunglow, in a quiet lane a couple of minutes walk from the main road. Karni Niwas had a board outside saying how they were highly recommended by the Lonely Planet etc etc. The entrance was almost all the to the left on the front side and a wall seperated the road from the whole complex. There was a lovely narrow lawn with a patch of grass and shrubs between the wall and the building. There was a patio on the front side of the building with a few wicker chairs and a table. There was somebody at the entrance to the building, it was not so much a hotel as much as a paying guest accomodation. The person at the entrance was slightly rotund, had curly oiled hair and was wearing a green sweater. He seemed to be from the family. I asked him if there was any accomodation available, at this he told me no there are no rooms available. I had other options so did not really care too much but still asked him if he knew of any other places which were good. He seemed a bit busy looking at the hotel book and said "Not really". At this point an older gentelman in a white kurta pajama, who was sitting there sipping tea asked him what about that room in the 3rd floor. They conferered for a few minutes and he came back to me and said" There are no single rooms available, however if you want you can use a double room for now and take a shower and such and when you come back in the evening there should be one single room available". That suited me just fine. I thanked them and he showed me to the room.

The stairways were steep and narrow and there was a large area on the 2nd floor which had a table and seemed like a common area. We walked up further to the 3rd floor and walked out onto an open terrace which had been washed and there were a number of potted plants being watered by a boy. The room was right there and was a wonderful large room with a huge double bed and hard floors. The walls were white and the room seemed clean. The bathroom was across the room and had a geyser for hot water. I almost wished I was staying there but that room had been booked earlier and it was more expensive. I had a shower and left my bags in the room, and walked down to see if I could get a cup of tea. I joined the older man at his wicker table and chairs. He was the owner and I thanked him again for finding me a room. He asked me to join him for a cup of tea and we spoke about Jaipur and his hotel. His joint family living there had made a large section of their home into this hotel. He was a retired police officer and when he retired he and his son decided this would be a good thing to do. Jaipur had become more crowded but he had lived in this house for years and the street still maintained a certain amount of quiet since the street led to a deadend. Also since was a retired cop a lot of people knew of this place and did not cause any trouble. After I had my cup of tea I wished him a good day and got ready to leave. He said there were autos at the intersection of that street and the Main Mirza Ismail (MI) Road, and if I mentioned that I was staying at Karni Niwas they would not cheat me. I followed his advice and got into and auto and asked him to take me to the city palace in the old city.

Nothing in Bombay or any other city traveling could prepare one for the sheer lunacy of the auto ride to the City Palace. We went to the Chandpol gate and as soon as one is through that one is into the Old City. That is the Chandpol Bazaar, which keeping with the name of Pink City is actually more Red rather than Pink and it is certainly like a Bazaar filled with shops on both sides, the shops all appear really old and there are people in front of the shops, on the roads. In addition there are people bicycling, riding two wheelers and there were cows ambling along in what seemed to me at least like really just two lanes, one for going and one for coming. However it was actually used as a four lane road. I have no idea how the auto driver actually knew when he was travelling that fast that the cow would actually lift its hindfoot out of the way just before we passed her. The anticipation control one requires to drive in such a place is truly something else. Anyway we were soon past the bazaar area and went to a quieter part of the old city and we were at the gates of the City Palace. There were certain parts near the City Palace which looked like the place where a popular Peugeot advert from 2002-2003 was shot.

The City palace was a huge complex with multiple palaces. The ticket was around Rs. 50 and the camera charges were around Rs. 35. Even with the camera charge no shots within the museums are allowed. The City Palace of Jaipur was the palace of a generation of Emperors/Maharajas including Sawai Madhosingh, Sawai Mansingh and Jai Singh. Part of the royal family still lives in one of the palaces in that complex. As soon as you enter the gates you see a palace called the Mumbarak (Welcome) palace. There is a museum and a textile gallery within it including some rather humungous garments belonging to Sawai Madho Singh the 1st. He was a rather large man. There are also all kinds of guns and armament which I guess one needs to rule and protect a land especially in the kingdomly times. Apart from that there were the usual structures ( at least for a Mughal Palace), the Diwan-E-Khas and Diwan-E-Am (Private audience and Public Audience halls). There are some interesting artifacts of the Royal times including a huge Silver Urn, which I believe it said, when full of water from the Ganges for the Kings trips abroad weight around 2 Tons!!!! In addition to that there are some neat arangement of rifles on the red wall and a beautiful closed palanquin. There also a number of miniature paintings and scrolls in Persian and Sanskrit. The Chandra Mahal is where the current descendents of the Maharaja live and that building in itself is closed to the public, but the gate to the Chandra Mahal is the Peacock gate and is stunning gate made of marble and has beautiful engravings and tiles in it. It looks like that is an addition to the old gate. The gate itself is a beautiful metal gate, which to me appears like a gate to a Palace and is overly ornate and has those Ringed knockers. There are also two detailed elephants 'guarding' the gate. The palace complex in itself did not hold my attention for long and since I had not really had any breakfast I was really getting hungry so I went to the place which they were advertisng all over called the Palace Hotel. I was the only one there since it was only around 11:30. I had some spicy rajasthani dal and rotis, which were pretty good apart from an excellent pot of special tea. The Palace hotel was at the end of the City Palace walk.

The next place I wanted to see was the Jantar Mantar, which was close to the City Palace. I got out of the exit at the end and walked around looking for Jantar Mantar. I walked around a bit absent mindedly looking at the various gates and the amazing decorations on them. Soon I was out on the Bazaar road and walking in front of the very recognizable Hawa Mahal. The bazaar seemed more crowded than ever with people walking around everywhere on the narrow sidewalks with vendors selling produce, souvenirs, footware, bags. And yet when I stopped in front of Hawa Mahal to take a picture an area cleared up so that I could actually move back and forth as a got a good view. Somebody even approached me to ask if I wanted him to take a picture of me. There was also the approach by the regular camera guy with pictures of different people in front of Hawa Mahal saying how he can create stunning studio like pictures real soon. The Hawa Mahal (Literally- Wind Palace) in itself looked really artistic and is a pinkish structure made of sandstone and as the name suggests has numerous windows projecting out, kind of like baywindows. All the windows have a dome like arch support over it and the windows in itself are in alternating columns of large and small windows, each of them maintaing the arch above it and the three sided projection out of the facade. The windows are in 5 rows, one for each floor. The windows have decoration in white of flowers and the sun. Since the building itself is mainly a narrow facade, I did not go in and found my way back to Jantar Mantar.

I asked a traffic cop for the way back to the Janatr Mantar and he was very helpful and said the best way would be to walk through the city palace complex since it is near the city palace gate alrite, but near the entrance not the exit. The way around it would be a long walk. So I trotted back to the exit and asked the guard if he would let me in and I showed him my ticket, but he waved me through even before that. I walked out the city palace gate and Jantar Mantar was right there. There was a notice board outside of the Jantar Mantar entrance with the fee structure, as I discovered is different for Indians and for foreigners. The price for Indian citizens is printed in Hindi, the price for foreigners in English, so I guess if you are an Indian who cannot read Hindi the ticket clerk will decide what to charge you. Anyway the Jantar Mantar in Jaipur is one of five observatories built by the Emperor Jai Singh,an avid astronomer in the 18th century . There was one in Delhi which I had seen around 20 years back. I did not remember much about it except that there was a huge Sundial. This one was a largish park filled with odd structures which were all instruments of an ancient time which could be used to calculate star positions, each of the zodiacs, and of course there is an awesome Sundial which is really high and there is a small obervatory on top, which was unfortunately closed off. But more than the structures themselves I was amused to see all the structures were run over by my 'friends' from the plane. The kids were recording and making observations, some of which pretty loudly, so that it appeared to have the look of a picnic rather than a scientific experiment. It was of course a mess with the kids sitting and standing on top of any device which was climbable and yelling across "Vicky, did you get that, Simran wait there". I tuned them out and decided that as fascinating as the Jantar Mantar was it was time I moved on from there.

The next on my list of random things to see in Jaipur was the Iswar Minar Swarga Sal (or the Heaven Piercing Minaret). There were no promiment signs for it as was the case with Jantar Mantar, Hawa Mahal or the City Palace. I walked along the road based on the map from Lonely planet and I seemed to be walking on a road filled with shops. This time it was on a emptier though narrow shady street and there were a large number of bicycles parked around and the shops were mainly hardware stores or workshops busy welding, lathing metal structures. I was certain I was walking on the wrong road till I almost stumbled upon the tower in the middle of this. The tower was certainly not towering as I expected. There was entrance away from the road and there was nobody around. I walked up a flight of stairs and came out onto a terrace like structure and there was a watchman there who sold me a ticket for Rs. 7 and also offered to orient me from top of the tower to all the parts of Jaipur. I figured that was worth the Rs. 10 he was asking for it. While there were actually steps from the entrance to this level, the steps from here till the top of the tower were a series of ascending ramps, which after walking for a few minutes were pretty steep, though my guide was bounding up them very easily. There were windows evry so often cut on the side of the tower but otherwise the stairwell was fairly dark.
After we walked for a few minutes we came to the top of the tower where there was a lookout. My guide pointed to the obvious structures like the City Palace, Hawa Mahal and to my next destination which was Nahargadh the fort on the northern part of the city. Looking at Jaipur from here it looked obvious why a warrior king would decide to set up town in such a place, there were hills on three sides of the city with a flat land at the base, a well protected area. Most of the current Jaipur looked like fairly short buildings, a mixture of white, pink, yellow and blue. There were very few trees and most of the buildings were built fairly close to each other. The contrast between the beautifully ornate palaces and the practical two-three tiered homes was rather stark. After a few minutes looking out at the buildings, I asked the guard what would be the best way to get to Nahargadh, I figured I could do with another manic ride through the maze of people, traffic, shops and cattle. He said" Why bother with an auto, you walk just easily from here to the base of Nahargadh and walk up the back side of it". I could see the fort and an erratic zigzag road running down its back, I figured I might as well walk it. I thanked the watchman and walked down the tower to the road and walked on the road westward and took the first road northward.

I did not really look at the map in the lonely planet since the directions seemed fairly straightforward. I kept walking along on of the main roads, it was fairly hot and I kept hoping the walk would not be too long. The main road turned into a narrower lane, which was sloping upward through a bunch of shanties and huts. I figured that seemed the only way and I could see the fort in a distance so walked right through it. I had probably walked for a few minutes when I had a chain of yelling and chanting kids walking behind me chiming "Ai Ai Ai.... Firangi". I did not know quite what to do at this point, I was spotted by one a bunch of youngish guys hanging out who asked me where I wanted to go and they pointed me to one of the side streets to walk to the fort. The kids disappeared as well when I took this road. I walked up that street till I came to narrower street which was leading straight ahead toward the fort, I took that and realised that was the wrong way because there were no houses in that road and it led to an emptyish lot with a few bushes and some trash. Since I could see the path to the fort ahead I figured I will walk ahead and I almost walked into a woman about to relieve herself. She grinned at me sheepishly and I asked her how to get to the fort, she told to walk back for 2 minutes and take the street on my left. I went back and took that which brought me to a high embankement with no way to climb onto it, so I walked along it till I was able to scramble up it and there was a clear road to walk up to the fort. I am fairly certain I lost my way completely though where I am not entirely sure since the way back was relatively easy.

As I was walking up the steep way on the back, I came across another tourist. He was from Ahmedabad and we started talking. In the usual list of questions of what does one do? where does one live and is one married? I told him I was a physical therapist, I work with children in Bombay (which was true in my past) and I was not married. He was married and his niece had a club foot and since I was a physical therapist he wanted my opinion on it. I explained to him what it was and what were the options and he seemed satisfied. We walked along for a few minutes with no conversation and feeling that I could just go ahead I said bye to him walked up quickly since I wanted to also get down before it was too late. The road was steep it was really a foot path with connected ramps, there was a motorcyclist who was also riding up the foot path with his bike and would almost stop at each hairpin turn. After walking for around 20 minutes I was up and a bit exhausted. There was a restaurant on top so I figured I will get a Kingfisher and sit and sip a cold beer. In Bombay in all the restaurants I went to the bearers would bring the bottle of beer and present it to you like it was a bottle of wine and I wondered why that was. Well I discovered it was for me to test the temperature cause there was none of that here and I got the warmest beer I have had in my life and it really was not what I was expecting. But all the same after the crazy afternoon I was glad to sit in some shade where it was really rather quiet and sip something. There was hardly anybody at the fort, there were some college students walking around.

The fort in itself was pretty small and fort like, there were some panaromic views of the city from there. The main palace at the fort was painted yellow and the domes on top had turned blackish over time. There was a central courtyard which had a number of paintings along the walls and there as a small cannon prominently displayed in the center. There were a few dark rooms from a central courtyard. It was nice to walk around the fort and the evening was one of those quiet winter evenings where the the whole evening seemed to be at a standstill though not in a heat oppressed way. The evening was kind of cloudy so the sunset was not really very visible and I made my way down after that. Overall in spite of the warm beer it was a quiet afternoon and evening. I took an auto back to the hotel. I decided to walk to the bus station and find out how I was going to get to my next destination Jaisalmer. I went to the ticket counter to ask what time were the buses to Jaisalmer the next evening. I was sent from the ticket counter to the information, where there was no one. Waited for a few minutes till somebody showed up and I found out there was an overnite bus to Jaisalmer. I went to the ticket line which had grown and finally got my tickets for the next evening, the 29th. I went and called a Hotel in Jaisalmer and made a reservation for 30th nite and I was told somebody would pick me up from the Jaisalmer bus terminal on 30th morning.

The bus station was on the station road, which was a large main road. It was exceedingly crowded and dusty, the buses roaring past kept blowing up more dust every few minutes. I was walking from the hotel and was on one of the side roads connecting MI road with the station road. There was a movie theater on one side of the that intersection and there were large number of men hanging out there. It did not really seem like a major bollywood cinema was playing. On the other side of the road there was a huge open garbage dump with heaps of trash. I almost did not notice there was actually an interesting place on the side road near the trash dump, it was a tea house called Wagh Bakr, a weird name for a tea store, I thought. It had very newish feel to it and I walked in, it was a nice cozy tea place with some booths, at one of which I sat myself. They had a large number of teas on the menu, all of which were available to buy as loose leaf teas as well. They were apparently a famous tea company in Rajasthan, Gujarat. That was the first time I had seen it, since then I have seen it in some Indian grocery stores in the US. Anyway, I ordered the wagh bakri blend, a mixture of assam teas. It was pretty good actually. The place was rather empty and certainly looked like a fish out of water, the surrounding stores and place looked like it had needed an update desperately while this place looked spiffily new. The place was rather empty and there was just a couple who walked in when I was there and the man chastized the bearer for charging Rs. 16 for a cup of tea, though he did land up ordering it. I figured the Baristas with the urban poshness charging Rs. 50 for a coffee must have seemed absolutely outrageous and probably had a while before it was going to make it to Jaipur.

I went back to the hotel and by that time my room was ready. It was a small room with no outside terrace, but there was a small provate bathroom and there was a large area outside my room where there were some tables and I could sit and eat dinner there. Obviously compared to the wonderful room I had seen in the morning this seemed rather dull but it was clean and had a bed with the standard white sheets and a checkered blanket, that is all I cared about for that evening. I guess when one is traveling one rarerly spends much time in the room except to sleep so I guess basic clean room seemed fine to me. The doors were like the old doors which would open in the center and above the doorway was a small window which could be opened partially. The walls of the room, as well as the doors were white and the stone floors were cold and dark. I went down to use the STD and order dinner. They had a menu but I asked if they had regular indian food and I got some of the dinner for the family. The STD room was a small room near the entance and there were a few people from Australia waiting to make a call. I went back up and my dinner came up in a few minutes. There was also a Japanese man at the table outside my room, I tried speaking with him and realised that he did not really speak any English. I tried to point to a map and figure out where he was going, he said Bombay, I was wondering if he had been there or was going there. At this he said tomorrow, I felt helpless to tell him something about the place and stuff like that, but since I could not really communicate well with him, I figured he had gotten to India without speaking much English, I am sure he will do just fine travelling around. The dinner was excellent and as soon as I started eating there was a power outage for an hour or so. I retired to bed early and it felt good to sleep in a room with no mosquitoes or yelling kids.

29th
I woke up the next morning and did not really have a plan for the day. I sort of wanted to see the fort in the old capital of Jaipur state, Amber. I was not too keen about it. As I went down I met the manager of Karni Niwas, I checked out and put my bags away in the store room. He told me he was going to drive one of the fellow tourists to the fort in Amber and I could certainly join them, if I wanted. However my fellow traveller was not there yet. I sat down for my cup of tea, the older owner was not around, though it would have been nice to talk to him. He was one of those old sociable gentlemen for whom one cannot but feel a certain amount of affection and respect. The manager came back and told me that he actually will have to drive to the airport to pick up the traveller who was supposed to want to go to Amber fort and he was not sure if he was still going to go. So I guess my decision was made. I walked out, it was a warm day, nothing as muggy as summer, but hot all the same. Everytime I had walked to MI road, I will be beseeched to take an auto. I did not really feel like going to the fort anyway so I decided to just walk around, shop a bit. There were at least 5 calls of "Auto?", "Best Price, Auto?", I just ignored them and walked on MI road. I wanted to go the Main post office a few minutes away. The main post office was a large building with a large front garden and a gardener taking care of the plants. He was thin chap wearing the classic khaki shorts and watering away. I wondered if those khaki shorts worn by gardeners all over were all military surpluses. As I entered the main area of the post office there were a number of numbered counters, with a glass window on top and a circular counter running all around. There were quite a few people standing around in different lines. I needed stamps, so I joined the line. I should correct that, it was not really a line as much as a bunch of people all of whom needed stamps and the way to do that would be to go the counter and pay money and get the stamps. They had figured the quickest way to do this would be to just crowd around the counter and the chances that anyone of those people would be the first to get there would be higher than waiting in a line. As I stood my ground in the slowly ambling line, at least 3 people just walked up to the counter and joined the crowd there. By the time I got to the front of the counter, I was ready to try that method instead of waiting for 20 minutes to buy some stamps. It was certainly a very casual post office with some of the postal workers walking away from their seats for a long while. And as all Indians waiting in line at around 10 know that there is the break for tea sometime in the morning and one has learned to look out for that. I reached the counter bought my stamps and to the exasperation of an older person behind me the stamp counter fellow went on a break for 10 minutes.

I walked out to the MI road and went to the Rajasthali emporium to see if I could buy some bed covers and some handicrafts. It was an efficient shop and soon I was on my way, I stopped by a few more shops mainly just looking till it was time for lunch. My uncle had spent some time in Jaipur and recommended I try Natraj, which was supposed to have some good North Indian cusine. It was right there on MI road close to Copper Chimney, I wondered if that name had anything to do with its namesake in Bombay. Natraj was a standard looking restaurant with a few booths and the food there was actually rather good. After a good meal, I just actually wanted to not do much, walked to a book store on MI road, looked through some old paperbacks, there was also an internet cafe nearby, did not feel like a cup of the good old internet. I walked back closer to the hotel where there was another shopping complex called Ganapati plaza, which had two tiers of shops similar to the ones in Bangalore. There were a few fabric stores, some selling ready made garments, footware, an internet cafe, a few places were just shuttered down. Usual urban commerce I suppose. When I got back to the hotel in the afternoon the owner was surprised that I was already back. He asked me if I had seen the Birla Mandir and I told him I had seen the one in Delhi. He replied that I must then see the one in Jaipur and tell him what I think of it. Sitting there in one of those comfortable wicker chairs with the sun beating down on my face I really did not feel like stirring, but then I had nothing to do till I caught my bus at 10 pm, so the Birla mandir it was.

The Birla Laksmi Narayan Temple/Mandir was as I remembered the one in Delhi, made of marble, with large grass gardens around, which were barricaded. There were a few water fountains and walking in barefeet on the interior marbles felt wonderful. There were a large number of stainglass windows with a number of gods. There were a large number of tourists in the temple but it was quiet and peaceful. I walked out to the side steps facing the main road. The marble was warm and in some places really hot, I moved to a coolish spot on the steps and pulled out the book I was reading, Narcissus and Goldmund. While I was reading, I realised a few people had sat down near me and someone was trying to peak at the cover of my book. I looked up and it was two young college age kids, one of them who seemed the more talkative kind said "Hello friend, you have an exam?", I replied in Hindi "No I was just reading." He seemed amused at the idea, seemed delighted that I answered in hindi because he launched off in fluent hindi with the usual questions about where I was from and how long had I been there. He and his friend, who smiled at being included in the conversation, were college students and lived in a dorm. He asked me in what hotel did I stay and how much did I spend on it, the way the questions were asked, I did think I was being interrogated a bit but it seemed more out of curiosity and need for conversational topics more than anything else. When I told him how much I had paid for the room (Rs. 350), he actually let out a low whistle and said to me, "Friend, you stay with us tonite if you want, you look like you are our age and maybe could use the money for something else." Of course I was not planning to take him up on his offer since I was leaving for Jaisalmer that nite and I told him so, but I must say it seemed a bit strange to invite a complete stranger to stay over and I wondered if it would indeed have been interesting to spend an evening with random college age students. The evening was turing cool and the sun seemed to be going down soon, sitting there on those steps I could see the busy broad street below with buses and cars and two wheelers, the sidewalks were filled with people walking to this temple or another one near by, there were a few flower and coconut vendors selling them to the temple goers. I figured it was time I headed back, the college students were looking through my book now and the talkative one returned it to me and told me "Books are alright if you like them." I wished them well and we went our ways.

I returned close to the hotel, decided to have dinner in this restaurant at the corner, very ordinary looking. I walked in and there was nobody and they seats and table were like a canteen, wooden boards. The lights were pretty dim and there was a large fan at the end of the room. I ordered some aloo parathas, which were not bad. With that it was time to move on and catch my bus to Jaisalmer. I went back to the hotel, picked up my bags, said good bye to the Manager who asked to come back sometime if I am in Jaipur and to the bus station I went. It was around 9:40 in the nite, the station road was still very busy and there were a number of vendors selling their wares sitting with petromax lamps. The bus station was relatively quiet and the bus was allready at the platform but the door was closed. There was a STD/PCO nearby and some people were making their calls probably to let someone know they are leaving from Jaipur. Not all the people there were waiting for the bus to Jaisalmer. A few minutes before 10, the driver walked back and opened the door and there was somebody in the back halfway up the ladder to throw the luggage above the bus. I did not have much so I boarded the bus. There was a french tourist who sat behind me. A middle aged man sat down next to me and he was all bundled up with a sweater and a shawl eventhough it was rather warm. As I would realize in the nite, I had forgotten we would be travelling into desert territory which tends to get cold, much colder than the warmth a sweater provides. Apart from the cold the clattering noise of the glass vibration within the window frame made it difficult to sleep with my head leaning on the window. But all the same it was a restful nite and when I woke up in the morning, we were travelling through airid lands with no greenery in sight. The Jaisalmer Fort was visible from a distance and there wasn't much else around there. Finally at around 10 in the morning we reached Jaisalmer. As the bus was pulling up I noticed a large number of people waiting and there wasn't really a terminal as much an area where the buses could pull up. I would soon find out why the people were waiting.

Prelude: Desi Thali- Travels through India in 2003

Bombay

January 2003, 2 AM- The warm breeze mixed with a smell of sweat and humidity hits me as soon as I walk out of the aircraft with my brother although we have not stepped out of the airport yet. There is an opening at the side of the vestibule connecting the plane to the terminal. I take a deep whiff of that air with a huge smile on my face. It had been 2 1/2 years since I had left Bombay. My brother, K was getting married that winter in 2 weeks. The marriage was in Madras, we had to go to Bangalore where my parents lived after I left. However, it was impossible not to want to spend a few days in Bombay, the Bombay where we grew up, the streets of Bombay where we roamed around, the foods of Bombay impossible to get elsewhere, the different people of Bombay- the city which was Bombay. My brother’s friend T was flying in the same day as us & we were to stay at her place in Malad. The flight had been long and as anticipated boring. There was a poor woman right behind us who was struggling with two kids, who seemed to be under a year old. We did not get much sleep on the flight.My brother, who just loves crying kids had more than enuf to say about the how the pharmaceutical industry was missing on an untapped market. Drug the kids out before they board the flight and they sleep right through, leaving them, their parents and all the other passengers free of crying stresses. I shelved that idea along with his idea for a mild electric shock forcefield to contain and calm unruly children.

The interiors of the airport were the same, stark white walls, florescent white lights, bereft of any color except for the line of tired people who seemed to be standing there to provide color to the otherwise drab proceedings. The line started moving actually after a few minutes in a very organized fashion with Pandu sahib standing at the front of the line guiding the people to the different immigration counters. As soon as I went up to the counter, seeing the name Kamble displayed prominently on the counter, I chimed up in Marathi, Hey ghya Kamble Sahib (Literally Take this Mr. Kamble). Just got a cold look as he went through my passport and stamped the entry stamp. So much for getting back to my Marathi. I was feeling the sheer thrill of being back home, to see all those throngs of people walking everywhere in the middle of the night. We went to the baggage pick up and went through the customs easily since we did not have anything with us. Of course we were asked if we were bringing in anything expensive by the X-ray guy while our bags were being X-rayed to help facilitate (or evade) this process, especially since many people coming from other countries commonly do bring electronics or something more expensive on which the custom duty at times is exorbitant. Walking out through the airport must feel like walking down a fashion runway. All the people leaning against the railing and waiting to see if the next person who comes out is the person for whom they have been waiting for a few hours and waiting and waiting because one never knows what to do with the time the few hours before a person whom you have not seen for years is coming back. But the tension, anticipation and disappointment is tangible as one is walking out through the scrutinizing visual field of all those people.

The sense of waking up in Bombay is the wonderful admixture of sounds each crowing in their own way a bright new day; the cawing of the crows, the sounds of pressure cookers, the clanging sounds of utensils being washed, the voices of mothers of those children wanting to stay in bed, yelling at them to get up and go to school, the cars, the school buses, the buses, trains, the mixed commotion of all of this. The sense of exhilaration one can perceive on hearing all this can only be attributed to the sense of belonging one feels when one has been away from all of that for a while. I walked out onto the balcony overlooking a playground, which looks slightly damp from the morning dew. Eventhough it was 7:00 in the morning in winter, it was very pleasant outside, the air felt crisp. The building walls look a shade of dull whitish gray, which is what one gets after a rainy season (or a couple!). This place had a look of what I recognize as the Bombay residential building look(probably the look of most housing developments in any post modern developing world); a bunch of flats spread out into a couple of ‘wings’ and a few parking spots along one side and in a few places on the ground floor of the apartment building. A playground with a swing and slide set, cricket stumps marked out on the old wall of the compound on one side, or on one or many of the walls of the building. Looking at all this from the balcony I could only feel the same feeling I was feeling since I reached the airport, I am home. This was a high which was much better than any else because it lasts for a few days (and one gets terribly hungover after that).

The many items on the agenda for time spent in Bombay was dictated by the oncoming wedding in 2 weeks. My personal agenda was to roam the streets of Bombay, reclaim the sense of solitude among the millions and millons of people which I felt resonated with the feeling of solitude the city had, at least in my head. The emotions of a city is weird because it is not really a being and yet the collective of the emotions of all the people, the architecture; the high rises, the low shanties, the people in their fancy cars, the people in their torn clothes digging through the trash, the beggars on the streets, the praying people in religious places, the arising crying of the new born, the final gasp of death, the crash of the waves of the sea, the heat of the land, the sound of the rain, the smells and sounds of existence creates an emotion so powerful that one can never create something like individually. I used to travel in the city a lot when I was in college and when I used to work before I left for the states in 2000. There were certain places in the city which I really liked, they were probably no tourist attractions, however were places I had spent time sitting and thinking, especially once I was out of college, I did not really have the time to meet with my friends and so the city was my friend. However I did not get too much of time to do that since I was not on my own and it had been a while since I hung out with my brother and his friends, and spending time with them involved the best quick eats and a lot of alcohol.

The first day we were back we spent roaming around Vile Parle, which contrary to the English meaning of the first name is a very nice suburban place with older bigger houses surrounded by shops, and apartment complexes. After looking through a bunch of shops my brother bought a Sherwani for his wedding. Since we had got one of the important things for the wedding out of the way, now the plan was to just have fun for the next few days, just go out and eat and drink (Drink being the operative word as I discovered over the next couple of inebriated nights). Try to recapture the Bombay we knew. Just before I left Bombay in 2000 there were a chain of Dosa Diners which had opened up. We decided to go and have a late lunch in one of those places, I was curious to see how it had changed. Before I left they came up with the novel idea of combining dosas with meat, which was an amazing combination and one did not get it at the usual Udipi. While I had gone there last it was a novelty, now it was just an Indian McDonalds.
The other newish thing was the Barista. It was a chain of cofee shops which had opened up all over India. The local cofee shop, which was commonly frequented by families and couples post dinner and it did not seem in the least bit pretentious. I guess people do not mind paying some money for just a place to sit and talk and sip coffee. After a greasy, sad looking dosa it was off to the station for me. I had to meet one of my friends from college in Peddar Road. I was feeling a sense of thrill heading toward Vile Parle station, it had been a few years since I had gone on one of the local trains, the skeleton of Bombay.

I was always a central railway person, grew up in a suburb which was off of the Harbor line, an offshoot of the central line. While the trains are similar, the people on both the lines are slightly different, with the people on the western line being from more affluent areas. The western line caters to the regions with among the highest costing real estate in India. It was the evening hours and I was traveling toward the south, the downtown, the business district of Bombay. The first thing which I noticed one I had gotten over the thrill of the rhythmic noise and vibrations of the train was the number of cell phones which kept ringing. Most of the people in the compartment were high school and college kids. Everybody seemed to have a cell phone, suddenly it felt strange to tell people I was in America for the past couple of years and the people would ask so what kind of newer gadgets do they have? Cell phones seemed to be more prevalent in Bombay then in Philadelphia. The stations passed by quickly and the view from the train on the Western line does not commonly present one with hutments and shanties, they are more an occurrence of the central line. I got of the local at Grant Road station and took a cab from the station to Peddar Road, where my friend lived. The weather was hot and muggy, while not as much as during the summer months, more than it was in Philadelphia, where it was the winter season. It had not even been 48 hours since I was in the cold, blistering winds of winter. The taxi moved along at a pace which at times one could walk faster. For us to move less than a mile, it took around 20 minutes. Finally we came close to where, I could just hop out and walk to Peddar Road. Covered with dust and soot, I felt like taking a bath more than having social interaction with people. I did wash my face at my friend’s place. I spent sometime at my friend’s place and much to her mother’s chagrin I did not even have a cup of tea, the least measure of Indian social propriety (I am sure to hear of that the next time I visit).

It was around 7:30 in the evening when I left, I was hoping that I would be able to get on the train from Grant road with the rush hour having gone. Of course as I discovered, there is no such thing as an end to the rush hour in the evening. I let a few trains by, all of which were equally crowded and then realized that is how things were and got into the next one, which was a fast (express) train. It did not stop at the stop I wanted to go to, Malad. And the second class, the lower costing class was less crowded than the first class. As one of those Bombay sayings go, there is hardly any difference between the first and the second class, they are equally crowded, the only difference being most people in the first class use deodorants. I got off the train at Andheri, which was the stop I had to change my train to a local. Looking at the trains, I decided to instead take a rickshaw instead. The driver at Andheri station had no idea where Malad west was, he vaguely knew how to get to Malad. He was a lean, young man who had moved from Bihar just a few months ago from a small town, this was the first time he was in a big city. There had not been too many opportunities in his town and he had an uncle in Bombay who got him this job. Finally after getting to Malad East which was on the other side of the railway line, he managed to ask directions and get me to Malad west. By that point I was just glad to be home and was feeling slightly jet lagged. I joined my brother, Tanya and her folks for dinner at a nearby restaurant. It had been a while since I had had good Tandoori chicken and this was just the place to indulge.

The next day being a Sunday, the atmosphere was more relaxed as the only day of relaxation for the people. I had promised a friend from my old workplace to come visit her family for lunch. She lived in Warden road, close to Peddar road. In Bombay one gets used to knowing places more by famous landmarks rather than addresses, I had been to her place a few times when I had lived in Bombay, but all I remembered was she lived in a building next to the US consulate. The trains were still pretty crowded even on a Sunday morning at 11:30. Most of the people were families out for a day of relaxation, visiting friends and relatives. I used to like to walk in Churchgate and Fort area on a Sunday, since the office crowd was missing. For a change one could actually observe some of the old British buildings, which one barely got a chance to appreciate on work days. There were also a bunch of Maidans or parks overrun by youth playing cricket, Marine Drive, always a nice stretch to walk in the evenings with the sea giving a cool end to a hot busy week, making it all seem worth it.

I alighted at Grant road station, the connecting link between the western railways and the affluent Peddar and Warden roads. The traffic from the station to Warden Road was a breeze, literally, it was a great day outside. Funnily there were not many people outside. I never gave the driver an exact address to where I want to go, which is common in Bombay, just an arbit Warden Road. If he found that strange he did not comment on it, I made him stop the cab at the building next to the US consulate. I remembered when we stopped that the previous times I always had given the address as the US consulate which was known to all the cabbies at Grant road station, since there were huge lines queuing here in the morning for a US visa, one of the three US consulates (and one Embassy in Delhi) in India. The building was almost unrecognizable since it was being renovated and was covered with scaffolding and cloth, everything around had more than just the Bombay dust, it was coated with fine cement dust. My friend, her husband and her adorable 1 year old son lived with her husband’s parents in a 2 bedroom apartment on a floor which allowed them a view of the Arabian Sea.

I spent a nice afternoon with them talking about the changes which had occurred in Bombay since I was there last. My friend's husband H, told me that travel was a real hassel and travel by train was something they had stopped completely. He said he used to love driving but driving too had become such a stress that instead he had a driver since he had to commute to one of the outer suburbs twice a week. He said once you leave it is best to not come back to this bedlam.
I mentioned the obvious difference in the incredible number of cell phones carried by school and college kids apart from everybody else. They said in the past couple of years the number of cell phone operators had increased along with increasing number of cell phone models from all the leading companies being available in addition to the ease of pre-paid SIM cards. One could even get a cell phone on rent, nearly every PCO/ STD operator seemed to carry SIM cards, even the local Paan wala used to stock SIM cards; the distribution had worked really well and had caught up with the people and the rates had been kept low enuf to tempt most people.

The radio was playing a channel called Radio Mirchi playing remixed version of older Hindi songs. A new wave of FM channels had been in the air for the past few years. In a time when cable TV was firmly based in the houses of Bombay, the radio channels were anachronistic and it was nice to see a bunch of newer channels, Radio City, Radio Mirchi, Mid Day run Go. My friends told me they listen to FM more than listen to their own CDs, because the music was newer and even the older music was select good music. There were also channels like Go which catered mainly to the English speaking educated mass of Bombay. But they were kind of skeptical about the future of the stations; they were hoping it would not be a repeat of the time period in the late 90s when all the private FM radio channels dropped out of the scene. Also there had been more of an increase in the number of channels on TV in the past few years with a number of regional channel programming, as well as English movies and serials and Sport channel programming. After an excellent Gujarati lunch, my friends suggested watching a movie. They were going to rent a movie as they routinely did on Sunday afternoons. Movie renting had become a lot easier, (whether or not it was legal); all they had to do was call the local cable man who also served as the movie rental agent and he would give them listings of new movies and which ones he had in the store and once a selection was made one of the guys who worked for the cable guy dropped by with a VCD of the movie in less than 30 minutes. Seemed kind of like Pizza. He usually had the latest movies which at times were still playing in the theaters, he got his share of pirated DVDs from southeast Asia. Also, it was common for someone to call the cable guy to find out what new movie he was playing on the cable movie channel or even request one!

I had to pass the movie selections of my friends and bid them adieu as I went to the best bookstore in town, Crossword. It used to be the only book store I used to visit when I worked, since it was so neatly organized. Strand bookstall was certainly a better bookstore but it was all the way in the fort area and was not as large or organized. Of course in memories the more idyllic visions one has of the places one cherishes the farther it is in reality. Crossword was a mess, it still had a lot of books but it was not at all organized. I mentioned that to my favorite sales person there, she was cute woman I used to chat with occasionally when I used to buy books there earlier. She said it was because of a sale they had earlier. Also I think it had become like a mall, people were just hanging out there with absolutely no interest in the books. It was just a place to meet people. Maybe it always was like that and I had not noticed it. After being disillusioned with one of my ex-fave place I left to go meet some of my friends from college.

It was a beautiful evening, a short ride in a cab took me to Shivaji Park, where my friend lived. As I passed Haji Ali I had a good mind to get off the cab and spend some time there, where I had spent quite some evenings in solitude, while I was waiting for a bus to get home. At times I had left a couple of buses so that I could just sit there on the few free evenings I had. In the evenings the Haji Ali mosque actually looked really nice way out in the water, a white mosque lit by the lights, sort of glowing with the dark sky and darker sea out behind it. My friend and I met up with another of our friends in Bandra in a place which was just a usual eatery and caught up on old times.

The next day was a day spent in South Bombay, the obligatory visit to Gaylord, Walking around Eros, a visit to Groove which was so much better than Rhythm house, at least when it had opened. Rhythm house on the other hand was the first true music store with which also I had wonderful older memories. Before I left in 2000, I used to frequent Groove and the Satyam shop which was near it. Also, there was the wonderful restaurant Starters and More on the other side of Eros. But we did not really have the time to go to all of that since there was the wonderful Strand Bookstall sale going on in Sunderbai Hall, with which I had so many memories. It was indeed the same and as wonderful as ever. After buying an arm full of books I met a friend of mine near Churchgate in a cafe called Cafe Mocha. It was a really well done place filled with Indian Art as Decor and mainly with young people wearing 'gapish' clothes. Wanting not to seem like an outsider ordering a Cappuccino as I typically order in the cafe I frequent in Philadelphia, I ordered a coffee and in the wonderful place that it was the coffee I had ordered came as a French press percolator. Having never dealt with one of those I just pulled up the plunger mixing the dregs and the coffee and the waiter just came and smiled and said 'Don't worry sir, I will get you one more'. It certainly was not easy trying to fit back in. The restroom in the place was among the most beautiful restrooms in which I have been. The door for the men had a Rajput male painting and for women a Rajput woman. It was painted in a rich earthy Burnt Sienna and had a very Indian feel to it with touches of Indian handicrafts on the walls. After a walk on Marine Drive in the evening, which seemed empty to me we went to Churchgate to take the train back to the western suburbs. My friend had to meet her boyfriend at Andheri station and she was late so I had to take the Virar fast which I had not done even when I used to live in Bombay. Having got a seat to sit I realised what the terror was all about when I had to get off at Andheri and the crowds would not budge an inch since everyone was going to Virar. I literally managed to kick and shove people and jump of the train at Andheri, it was certainly an interesting experience which I shall limit to that one time, if I can.

The few days were spent in a flurry of activities traveling all over Bombay, spending time in the Churchgate area, visiting friends in New Bombay, Shivaji Park- where I used to work. As the three days we were spending in Bombay came to a close, it was time to fly out to Bangalore to my parents place.

Madras
The few days in Bangalore was spent visiting family and preparing for the Marriage. The marriage was in Madras (Chennai, for the politically correct). A large number of my relatives were coming for the marriage, so one whole train compartment was filled with my cousins and aunts and uncles. It was a fun overnight journey from Bangalore, reaching Madras in the early morning hours. I had been to Madras only once before. It had felt like a city but had a completely different feel to it from Bombay. The marriage itself was fun, a lot to eat, socialize.
The climate even though it was January felt really hot and humid. After 3 days of functions and such, I had reached a point of over socializing that I just wanted to get to back to my quiet and solitary life. After the final function of the marrige itself was done, K and L left for Sri Lanka and Maldives. I was probably tired but I slept the sleep of the dead that afternoon to wake up to see I had missed saying bye to them. Also I had the horribly groggy feeling one has when one oversleeps in the afternoons. The marriage hall itself which was filled with people and laughter the past few days seemed in comparison gloomy and the few lights which were on made it seem dark and dull. We had the night train back to Bangalore that evening. There were a lot of things which we had to carry back from the marriage, including some rice. Bangalore being Bangalore and my dad being my dad would not hire a porter and the exit nearest to where we were only had cabs with no autos. The autos were not allowed in that area and the cabs were exorbitant. Not that I cared about that at that point. All I wanted to do was give the bloody cabbie whatever the heck amount he was asking for and go home. Anyway my dad somehow got a few autos to come that side and we got in as the cabbies and the ineffective traffic cop were asking the auto to get lost. Having reached home with probably around 20 bags, I just wanted to get away from the whole chaotic drama which is an Indian marriage.
The next day was republic day and the day felt like a holiday, brilliant sunshine, and no hustle and bustle of people trying to get to work. The day after that, Monday, January 27th 2003 I left for my trip across the country. I had a flight from Bangalore to Jaipur reaching on the 28th and a flight back from Calcutta to Bangalore on the 13th of February and 17 days in between to travel in anyway I can across Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal. Travels in India are never as simple as they can be especially with time constraints applied to them. With my lonely planet with me, a budget of around 10 $ a day and around 10 flexible places to visit in 17 days, I was certainly excited about the journey.