Foy Sagar to Jaipur

The plan was that Sam would pick us up at 7am and drive us to Ranthambhore National Park, via Jaipur, where, as a native of the city, he would give us a guided tour.

The reality wasn’t quite the same because he had to mend a puncture before he even set out from Pushkar so we didn’t leave till nearly 7.30am.

About an hour down the road, I was just thinking that the car seemed a bit noisier than before when Sam indicated left and as he slowed, I could feel the tyre had gone down. We pulled over and got out and he hailed a passing auto rickshaw to take him up the road to a repair stall while we waited at the side of the road, which gave passers by something to look at. Sam was back in about 30 minutes and put the wheel back on, only to watch it deflate gracefully as the jack was taken away. 

Sam and the punctured tyres exit in the autorickshaw…

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After some pretty colourful language, Sam hailed another rickshaw and went off again with both tyres and we sat down on a bench under a tree by the village water pump to wait. A man had got off the rickshaw to make room for Sam and the two wheels and he settled himself on a circular concrete plinth under a tree to wait with us. Time went on and he decided we must be getting bored so he beckoned us to follow and took us up some steps to the building next to the pump. It turned out to be a temple to Hanuman, the Monkey God and the priest appeared and gave each of us a bowl containing an eclectic mixture of syrup soaked bready-cake, sort of savoury puffed rice cake type things and other tooth-achingly sugary sweet meats that are a bit like halva and are made of carrot, sugar and milk.

I sat on the bench and ate a few to be polite but then a dog turned up who was obviously feeding pups and we all decided her need for calories was greater than ours.

After a while, the chap and I struck up quite a conversation. The first thing most Indian people want to know is are you married and do you have children and if the answer is no to either, they want to know why! We talked about where we had come from, where we were going, the dog, how we liked India and all sort of other things. Not bad considering neither of us speak each others language and eh was a mute and could only make “aarr” noises. He was a very nice man and not for the first time did it occur to me that, had this been at home, we would probably never had got past the occasional embarrassed eye contact, roll eyes, puff out cheeks and tut at each other occasionally in a “how typical but let’s be stoical about it ” type way.

When Sam got back, the tyre was replaced and held out until about half an hour outside Jaipur. There was that characteristic change in note of rubber on tarmac and at the exact same moment, Sam and I turned to each other and made eye contact with a  “Surely, this can’t be happening again?!” sort of look.

Luckily, a taxi driver pulled up behind us with a couple from California in the back. His car had a Pushkar number plate on and he recognised Sam because his car has a Jaipur plate one and is well known in Pushkar. While they changed the tyre, I chatted to the American couple who I realised I recognised from one of the restaurants. The driver and Sam exchanged phone numbers as Sam had a couple of driving jobs that he was supposed to be doing that afternoon and was able top pass on a return fare to Pushkar to the other driver.  We went in convoy for a while and just when we thought all was going well again, we hit a roadblock and were pulled over by the Police. Both drivers got out and there was much waving of hands, shrugging and gesticulation. One of the Policeman wander3ed over and put his head in at the window so I decide I had nothing to loose and gave him a cheery “Namaste. Problem?”. “No, no problem, Driver…seat belt” he replied and then asked (predictably) “Your country” and in reply to “England” we got the even more predictable “Ah, Queen Elizabeth, Luverly Jumble, Sound as a pound.”

Well he was a Policeman wasn’t he so, where as someone else may have been on the receiving end of one of my best withering “Bloody fool” looks, I nodded and smiled and generally massaged his ego and before we knew it, the other policeman had extorted about 300 Rupees from the taxi driver, Sam had got off Scott free because he had Jaipur plates and we were off again.
Sam dropped us at a restraint in the city about noon while he went off to get two new tyres and said he’s pick us up an hour later (that’s about 90 minutes in UK speak!). In all, that morning had cost him about 6000 Rupees and had probably wiped out any profit he would have made from the 3 days we had booked him for.

There was only just time for a whistle stop tour of the old Pink City, including the Wind Palace (Hawa Mahal) with its intricate carved minarets and Jali screens so the women in purdah could look out but not be seen…

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…and the Royal Cenotaphs where the Maharanis of Jaipur where traditionally cremated  …      

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…before we met Gunjan, our driver for the rest of the journey, who works for Sam and who we knew from Pushkar.

Jaipur is manic, crowded, dusty and hot and with no air conditioning and lungs full of dust, I immediately felt irritable there. There are more horses than we saw in either Delhi or Ajmer and to see a skinny horse pulling a tonga (horse rickshaw), literally grid locked in the middle of a roundabout with 4 lanes of traffic trying to merge into one, resigned, patient and so shut down it was almost oblivious to the horns, heat, dust and engine noise, was distressing beyond belief. I had a suspicion that I would be ok with animal situations as long as I was doing, or knew someone else was doing, something positive about it. I couldn’t see much that was good about some of these horses and pony’s situations, although to be fair, some were actually sound and well fleshed. Others were browbeaten and lame bone-bags whose state and situation made me mutter obscenities under my breath. All I can do is send a hefty donation to the Brooke Hospital or Help In Suiffering and ask that it be spent in Jaipur!

The condition of people meanwhile, is a similar situation and I’m afraid if you go to any large city in India, you will eventually come up against things that upset you. One sight that will stay with me forever is a small toddler, only just capable of standing unaided, being encouraged by its Mother to walk to our car with its arms outstretched, pleading for rupees. We had drawn up to the side of the road to check the map and there was a large crowd of gypsy families who obviously begged here each day. The child’s Mother came over and picked up the baby, pushed it against the window and, knocking on the glass saying “Madam, baby, medicine, hungry,” used the child as a lever to try and get money from us. I ignored it and carried on looking at the map and she moved to the back window and tried again. When Brenda and Mary said no, she came back to me. I felt a complete cow as I gently moved the baby’s arms out of the car so I could wind the window up without trapping them, while the Mother continued to bang on the glass asking for money. Everyone we spoke to about beggers warned us not to give money because the minute you do, they all pile in and surround you and even in a car it can be really intimidating.

My husband Martin was in Nepal in 1996 with ex Ghurkha friends, to trek in the Himalayas and visit some of the projects run by the Ghurkha Welfare Trust. His friends told him that there was only one way to deal with the beggars, bogus or otherwise. Say no and make a hefty donation to UNICEF or Save the Children or some such NGO who could work for the greater good of the whole society. I suspect the water pumps we saw in most villages are probably part of some such wider project and so bring something good to all.

On the one hand, Indian people are incredibly accepting and get on with life with little complaint. The caste system is a trap for many as you cannot change caste in this life but, the Hindu religion does allow for hope because there is a good chance that you will be re-born in a higher caste next time and so live an easier life. On the other hand, this fatalism breeds inertia and to see a child being trained to beg at such an early age is truly shocking. 

   Jaipur to Ranthambhore  

Having tried to blank its awfulness out of my memory, there is little I can say to properly describe the drive to Ranthambhore other than if you happen to be a native of Cranham, then never, even complain about the roads again. If you remember the state of the section from the village past Witches Tump before it was resurfaced 3 years ago, then that was the condition of the best bits. The worst were like a moonscape. One minute you would be bowling along on smooth tarmac at 60mph and the next you would be executing an emergency stop because there was a 2 foot wide gap in the road, about 18inches deep, the left carriageway was about 6 feet higher than the right and there was a trailer load of rubble and a cow in the middle of it.

The entire journey was stop start and at times, the road was so much like a building site that we weren’t sure if we were actually on the road or had inadvertently wandered off into some primitive sort of hinterland. Where they were improving the road, there was no “joined up thinking” between those doing the work so, you would have several sections of about 300m of really nice road separated by about 10m of what resembled no mans land without the mud.  A 2 hour journey took nearer 6 and all I could think of was how lucky it was that we had two new tyres because we were going to need a spare before the journey was done.

The road kill on this road was worse than I have seen anywhere else too. A donkey in the middle of the road, a sheep on the verge, several dead dogs in the gutter, one flat as a pancake in the middle of the road. The worst thing is that eventually you get a little resigned (rather than desensitised) to it and where as at home, the sight of a dead dog would be incredibly upsetting, over here you just glance over and think “That’s a shame”. I hope it was killed instantly.” That may sound shocking but I’m afraid it’s one of those things you have to experience to understand. It happens, you can’t change it, at least not overnight anyway. All you can hope for is a quick death, or an organisation like TOLFA to pick up the pieces, which is where I came in.

We finally staggered in to Ranthambhore about 7pm and after parking our bags and realising, joy of joys, there was a water heater in the bathroom (HOT showers!!!!), we hit the restaurant where I was so surprised to find chicken curry, I had some. Big mistake but I’ll tell you about the consequences of that later, if you haven’t already guessed!

The Ranthambhore Bagh is a Havelli type hotel about 2km from the National Park with more western style rooms. For a weary traveller, hot water, clean sheets (I was able to leave my trusty single duvet cover in my suitcase for a change) and sparklingly clean bathrooms was a luxury we had forgotten existed.  The buffet-style evening meal is served in the garden with traditional Rajasthani singing and dancing to entertain and it was all very pleasant. I was so hungry I put a dollop of everything on offer on my place and one of them happened to be chicken curry. Not having had meat for over 3 weeks, I was quite surprised but thought no more of it. The following day, about 20 minutes before we were due to go on the afternoon safari, the projectile vomiting started and for the next 5 hours, I was rushing to the loo every 20 minutes, before staggering back to bed and a glass of water and rehydration mix, the single bar electric fire on full blast and pointing at my bead.

After the first couple of hours my bowels decided to join the fun but that was probably a good thing as a couple of hours later, the shivers and aches passed, I could keep water down again and I started to feel a bit better. There was a 7-hour respite when I was able to sleep until I woke up feeling really rubbish about midnight, threw up in spectacular fashion and that was an end to it. Fast onset, fast resolution but just a pain, as I’d been fine all the tiem we were in Pushkar and on top fo everything, I’d had to miss the second safari. On the other hand, it was just as well I cried off, as I was right in the middle of it 20 minutes after Mary left to catch the jeep to the park.

On the positive side, although Mary did see a tigers bum for about 20 seconds and I missed it, I really enjoyed the morning safari and to be honest, while it would have been wonderful to see a tiger, there is so much else to see that for me, it is enough to know they are there and, for the moment at least, safe. Apparently they have two females with 2 and 3 cubs apiece at the moment and Ranthambhore is the only reserve in India where numbers are actually increasing. In the neighbouring Sariska reserve, it is generally accepted that all the tigers were poached out in 2004 to fuel the Chinese demand for Tiger body parts to use in Traditional Chinese Medicine.

So, the first safari… we got up at 5.45am and had coffee and biscuits in the lobby before meeting our guide and setting off in the jeep to the park. The drive was freezing and I was glad I brought my coat, hat and mittens (no, really!) but it was stunning. The roadway is paved and lined with trees and even a river, the first running, natural water we had seen all the time we were in India, and with the steep, afforested cliffs rising up above us on each side, there was a touch of something primordial as we drive through the gathering dawn, an image that was reinforced when we reached the inner gateway to the park and had to drive through a wooden doorway that was for all the world like driving in to Jurassic Park in the film, having ditched the rather malevolent looking member of the magpie family who had been perching on the windscreen of the jeep…

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The doorway to Ranthambhore…

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The track wound between massive, ancient baobab trees with their roots growing down towards the ground and their branches covered in bright green parakeets, chattering away like Budgerigars in an aviary until the terrain finally opened up to show a large lake, with ancient follies built on the far banks and the steep cliffs of rock looming behind…

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The fort of Sawai Madaphur that overlooks Ranthambhore covers an area of 7square km and can be visited but we didn’t have the time to do it unfortunately.

As we drive through the park, the guide pointed out spotted deer…

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 Blue Bucks…

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 and a huge Alligator, wild boar, an Eagle Owl, a Kingfisher, Monkeys and identified all sorts of bird calls. We came across fresh sets of tiger footprints and followed them but didn’t see one, although I got the distinct impression that somewhere not that far off, a large purring stripy creature was probably sunning itself on an overhanging rock, watching us with a smile of contentment on its face and thoroughly enjoying the joke.

Paw prints in the sand…

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As we made the return journey and got back to the lake, another jeep turned up and said they had seen a tiger. Our guide asked us if we’d like to try and of course we said yes and as a result, we had an extra hour in the park, driving maniacally up steep rocky tracks through the trees and along smooth sandy lanes alongside shady pools. We still didn’t see a tiger and I still have the bruises on my shins where we were thrown against the angle iron brace of the seat in front but it was a huge adrenaline buzz and I loved it. I also have to say that however they may drive on the roads, the driver’s skills off-road were awesome.

You know, beautiful as all the buildings and monuments we saw on this trip were, for me, nothing can compare with the natural landscape and I would rather have spent that 4 hours in Ranthambhore than seen all the Taj’s in the world!

The only thing that could have made it better was to have been on a horse instead of in a Suzuki jeep but you can’t have it all and the troop of Monkeys that presented a 7-day-old member of their tribe, right beside the jeep on the return to the hotel was a wonderful memory but I couoldn’t help drawing a parallel between a tiny monkey, encourraged by its Mother to wobble its way to the jeep to take a banana being held out to it and the little child in Jaipur, being taught to beg almost before it could walk.

Monkeys on the roadside with 7 day old baby.

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I woke the following morning, a little washed out but ready for my toast and coffee and, after checking out we met Gunjan and set off for the chaos and bedlam that is Agra.