Udaipur: “Are you jamisponding me?”

There is really only one thing about Udaipur that people go there for as far as I can tell. A shaken but not stirred thing that is regularly viewed with golden eyes and pointed out with gold fingers, and… oh hell, I cannot be bothered with anymore James Bond hints. You get the idea.

Bundi: “The work of cobbling rather than men.”

Fort Monkeys, breakfast monkeys, “Your monkey stick doesn’t scare me” monkeys. A whole monkey army of which sat around us as we climbed to the fort, perched on every wall and window, eerily following us with dark monkey eyes…

Pushkar: “Two hundred and thirty four years, and now change!”

Posted by on Nov 13, 2008 in India, People, Purl Interrupted, Travel | One Comment

A Pushkar newpaper seller celebrates Barack Obama’s election victory. He shakes M by the hand, after posing for a photo with his newspaper-displaying bicycle. “Two hundred and thirty four years,” he tells us excitedly, “and now change!”

Jaipur: “This is no rickshaw! This is Ferrari!”

An army of monkeys marching down three sides of a narrow alleyway, their tails waving like banners of victory behind them.

Two mud-black pigs caught snuffling through the worst smelling rubbish in a tiny side street, one turning its too-pink nose to pose for the camera.

Delhi to Jaipur: “She is very old and gets sick when she travels.” (groooooaaan)

“She is very old and gets sick when she travels.” The girl explained, “She must sit by the window”. Granny moaned in pure Bollywood style. We looked at the Indian men stretched out on the bunks above, one to a bunk, opening a sneaky eye to watch the proceedings and then hastily shutting it when they saw us watching.

Delhi: “Beeeeeeeeeeeard? Beaaaaaaaaaard?”

A cry of “Beeeeeeeeeeeeeard? Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeard?” outside the fort, that stopped us in our tracks and ended with us haggling for fake facial hair with a small boy who assured us he paid at least 25 rupees whenever he bought his.

Attari: “Hindustan!” “Pakistan!”

Sat in the VIP area of the most patriotic crowd I have ever been a part of, watching men with fans on their heads attempt to almost kick themselves in the face while marching, while the throng around me chants football-crowd-like songs at a just-as-patriotic, just-as-loudly-singing crowd across the border.

Amritsar – Diwali at the Golden Temple: “Are you happy?”

I was accosted by a whole crowd of Sikhs outside the temple who stood around giggling as a small boy, with arms much stronger than his skinny frame let on, tied my head scarf on so tight I worried I may have to surgically remove it after.

Amritsar – Jallianwala Bagh “An everlasting symbol of non-violent and peaceful struggle for the freedom of India”

In 1919 General Dyer, of the British Army, was called to restore order to the city as unrest had broken out over an emergency British law that allowed them to imprison Indians suspected of sedition without trial. The general ordered his 150 men to open fire on the 2000 peaceful protesters occupying an open space surrounded by high walls.

Amritsar: “You my brother. You my sister.”

Gap-toothed rickshaw driver to the rescue! He lead us out into the street next to his chugging steed “No worry.” He told us through his festive grin. He motioned to the boys “You my brother. You my brother. You my brother.” Then with a pat on my shoulder “You my sister. Come. I find you room.”