Khuri

4 - 6/01/08

After two heavenly days of relaxation in Bundi I set off on the bus to the nearby town of Kota. Here I caught the train to Jaipur, five hours away. I had my first taste of Guava (aka custard apple) courtesy of the lovely family I was sat next to. It was a day of firsts as I also enjoyed my first bicycle rickshaw ride (much more sedate but no less scary than the auto-rickshaws!) and saw my first camel, plodding down the chaotic main road like it was the most normal thing in the world! Jaipur wasn't really anything to write home about - very big, very loud, very dusty and certainly not the pink city that all the guidebooks romantically describe. After sunset I spent seven long hours at the station waiting for my train which was due at midnight but rolled in at 1am. I discovered a family of eight rats in the toilet so squatted from an impressive height and then crossed my legs for the rest of the evening. The staring at the station was particularly bad - men gawping everywhere I turned. In the end I completely covered my head with my scarf so no-one could see I was white. A massive crowd had formed by the time the train pulled in and it moved like a herd of stampeding buffalo. In the pandemonium I ran to the wrong end of the train. In England this would not be a problem but in India there are thirty-something carriages - it's a long long way. Lots of men groped me as I pushed past and then got a second chance when I had to run by once more. The unreserved carriages (which you don't touch with a barge pole unless you've (a) lost your money or (b) lost your mind) were already so full that the passengers inside were refusing to open the doors. This lead to mobs of angry men hammering on the windows and then forcing their way into the sleeper class carriages instead. When I finally got on the train it was so full I could hardly push my way down to my reserved "bunk". When I did get there I found it came complete with three louts who were very reluctant to move. I then had an audience of seven men watch me get into my sleeping bag, all getting kicks out of being suggestive. I tried to block them out of my mind but then glanced to the bunk opposite to see my neighbour wanking whilst ogling me. I have never felt so terrified in all of my life. My only reassurance was the young Korean tourist who was nearby - he looked equally as scared and he regularly shot me sympathetic looks. By 4am the gang appeared to have dispersed, I was so relieved as I was busting for a pee but didn't dare move earlier. My relief was short-lived as the all the men had just relocated to around the toilet. I endured five long minutes waiting whilst getting hands stuck between my legs and everywhere else you can imagine. I was so hard to know what to do in defence - making a fuss would have been dangerous in this particular situation as I was so outnumbered I knew it could have quickly turned much worse. Even the conductor who had past through earlier didn't kick them off the train despite the lack of tickets.
The dawn brought views of sand dunes and a fine coating of sand coated everything in the train. Most of the men had gone but one was remaining who I had noticed had kept himself separate through the trouble the previous night. I had an interesting discussion with him about Indian men's views of western women. Apparently all the men were from the army and were letting off steam...huh! But he respected my opinions. I still don't understand why so many men have such fixed opinions about white women. There's no logic to it as there were Indian women wearing tight western clothes but they weren't getting the same disrespectful treatment that I received.
When I arrived in Jaisalmer I took the local bus (sacks of rice beneath my feet, small child on one knee, someones shopping on the other!) to Khuri, a small desert village two hours due south. I stayed with a really lovely family and slept in my own little thatched mud hut. It was so special and peaceful - a real tonic after the stresses of the previous days. The food was cooked over the fire and was absolutely delicious. The husband was a gentle, fascinating person who took great pleasure from leading a simple life. The next day I headed off on a camel into the desert with some American students to spend a night on the dunes sleeping under the star-studded sky (camel travel is as painful as everyone says!). We passed lots of traditional mud houses so smooth they looked as though they could have been molded from plasticine. The landscape and experience was amazing and nasty memories soon replaced by great ones.