Udaipur, Puskar, Delhi-o

The reliable old Mewar Express rolled into Udaipur at 0700, I was sprinkled with the first of the monsoon rains on the way to a rickshaw, and was relaxing over a hot banana porridge in the courtyard at Lal Ghat before 0800. And then the business meetings started.

One of the key figures in the gypsy caravan circus hotel concept, Arnaud Azzouz, spotted me and we enjoyed the first of several frank discussions about the potentials for development, collaboration, and the nature of art and tribal cultures. (see the Sayari website)

Lunchtime was spent re-uniting with my extended family at Jagran Jan Vikas Samiti and catching up on all their latest news. Afternoon was taken up walking the property on Lake Pichola and stopping by to say hello to some of the gypsy performers and to wish Sayari’s little Raju happy birthday. Then there was the alternately enlightening and baffling conversation with Kabra-ji, our trusted local business collaborator. Evening was spent writing up a tactical development plan and slipping it through the web for review and comment by the Dixit/Kubiak combine.

So it went for the next week or so. I can’t really remember the details and my notes are just the other side of comprehensible. Suffice to say that I was configuring Skype on a TATA Telecomm “wireless landline” to within 3 mins of the train leaving…and there was not a spare hour to fidget in the whole experience. Anyone who thinks that the pace is leisurely just because cows wander the streets hasn’t been paying attention. India is outrageous.

And so, fattened up by nearly 10 days of unimaginable hospitality, and slimmed down by a relentless work schedule, I slumped into my chairclass and relaxed for hours til we pulled up at Ajmer.

11pm: no taxis, no buses. So I pile into a motor rickshaw (1cyl, approx 100cc, 15km trip mostly vertical) with an insane Italian couple and we buzz through the dark streets, gasp up the mountain range, and rattle down into the ancient holy city of Pushkar, and find myself standing in the main bazaar just after midnight. And the local scene is still chillin’…I get the news: it’s been a long summer (plus 50c heat), the tourists haven’t yet started to flow, and the monsoon hasn’t come on yet…but still, it feels great to be on the edge of that magical lake listening to the city sleep.

Next morning starts early with gift-wrapping and a much-anticipated puja (thanksgiving) down at the lake with our ever-attentive family priest. I said thanks and goodbyes to all our grandparents, asked for continued good fortune for our families, and scattered rose petals mixed with a few tears.

By chance I meet Damilla (mother of ‘bari’ Varsha, our daughter’s namesake) and find out that Suresh-ji, my ceremonial brother, will be back at the house from a hard day’s rice cooking at 4pm. We agree to catch up then. I do a bit of shopping, walking, and organise my ticket for the “tourist class” sleeper bus from Pushkar to Delhi.

Had a lovely visit with Suresh-ji and family (was treated to a trademark plate of curried macaroni). ~Bari-Varsha is flowering beautifully in her 9th year...such a delightful spark...and yet there she is hobbling along with some sort of foot-bone problem that troubles her constantly and looks like it really needs serious attention. Damilla wakes up in the mornings crying because that chronic pain in her back is so intense. Suresh has two rupees to his name and is getting paid next to nothing for cooking rice at the local school. Sigh. Very hard to sit with. I left them 3000Rs and gave a big hug. They are family for us, but "What I can do"??

And then it was time to get on the bus. Lumbering across town with full packs, clanking my new set of chai glasses, and dodging manic street hazards, I finally made it to the (non-air conditioned) coach and realised that my 2meter frame was going to be shoehorned into a 170cm berth for about 12 hours. I had the pleasure of being on the same side as the roof ladder, so the overnight trip was punctuated with migratory riders clambering up and down with their packs and burdens at each stop along the interminable road. Their commotion was almost soothing, however, compared to the hammering barrel-race on the road when we were underway.

Bruised, dazed, and on the verge of hysterical collapse, I was bundled off the bus in some nameless Delhi suburb at 7am the next morning. The first three rickshaw drivers I asked to take me to Jaya’s suburb just laughed and walked away without even suggesting a price…never a good sign. I finally found a driver game for the trip and we set off.

It was a valiant effort, but his old machine sputtered and died in the middle of an intersection 5km short of our destination. Finally secured another rickshaw, made it to Neb Sarai, broke into Jaya's place, and got a shower while they were sleeping. Then broke into her computer and did a map search to find out where my 10am meeting with Sulabh was (far west, past the airport) and set off by 9am on foot through the already hot and dusty streets sweating like a demon in my long kurta, boots, and now 6-days-not-washed traveling pants til a rickshaw picked me up and we completed the trek to Sulabh arriving about 7mins late, which all considered I thought was remarkable.

Now, I'm thinking this will be a nice little sit down with Dr Pathak and we'll talk biodigester tech with his staff...but I am greeted at the door of the compound by several sharp-eyed minders, and photographers (??) and swept directly in to shake hands (cameras whirring) with the good Pathak, and then we march down the path, into a meeting hall, and (hello?) directly onto a stage with about 300 bright-eyed Sulabh-ians standing at attention in long rows stretching back beyond the glare of the footlights. Surreal.

We were on stage for one thing and another for 45mins (Could I say a few words? Of course…) before I finally got a chance to wipe a bit of the sweaty rickshaw crap off of my face and draw breath. Who are these people? They kept assuring me that they enjoy providing a proper welcome to all their important guests… (Could you stand here so we can get a picture?) Anyway, it continued on like this for another 4 hours before I was humbly and graciously thanked for my time and taken home in their own van back to Neb Sarai. A remarkable organisation doing really important work. I had a great time with them.

The evening progressed hysterically, as you might expect, and I finally fell over about 2am and slept til 9 next morning.

Then it was time to connect with Vandana Shiva and her brilliant colleague Mayaji at their new café in Hauz Khas. Fantastic food (slow food applied to new cuisine…amaranth crumbled rissoles, rhododendron juice, green mango and mint cooler...ahhh.)

Too soon it was time to say goodbye to Nishant, Jaya, Blanca, Skazzi, and faithful old Rambe the cook. Namaste India!

An uneventful departure, much needed restful layover in Singapore, and then the darling Stuart was there to pick me up in the cold hours of the morning at Brisbane International.

Home again…