India - Rajasthan part 3 - Bundi: Cricket, Tea & the VIP's

The bus network in India is a little different to most other places we have found so far. There are numerous classes of bus, the highest class being the ‘Volvo’ fleet, air conditioned 'cleanish' comfortable coaches (though nothing to rave about), next in the pecking order are the air conditioned ‘Goldline’ class, which we took on our journey back from Jodhpur, basically pretty beaten up old things that have a/c. Next is the ‘Deluxe’ class, which proved to be our only available option on the next leg of our tour of Rajasthan, to the town of Bundi in the far east of the state. ‘Deluxe’ doesn't actually mean anything like what the name suggests, no a/c, filthy dirty inside and out and battered to hell, so in the heat of the midday sun during one of the hottest months in one of the hottest places on earth we embarked on our 6 hour journey across the desert state.

Temperatures were now consistently hitting 48 degrees most days although apparently in June temperatures get up to 52 degrees. With windows wide open as the only way of getting any air as we drove through the dusty landscape we quickly had a thick film of dirt over our clothes and bodies. We once again however passed through many small rural communities and passed a seemingly endless stream of brightly coloured and elaborately decorated lorries, over loaded beyond a rational level that kept us entertained, meaning the journey wasn't as bad as what it could’ve been. That is until we broke down. Our grinding halt meaning no air flow coming into the bus while we waited for the driver to fix the bus. After about half an hour of him pouring large amounts of water over and in everything he could find the bus miraculously started again, and just about got us the 10 kms or so down the road to where there was a mechanic, or a boy of about 13 as it turned out, covered from head to toe in grease and engine oil, who after another half hour or so had us fixed up and flawlessly on our way for the rest of the journey to Bundi.

Bundi is a small hillside town, described as 'the Rajasthan the travel brochures promise', i.e., not yet spoilt by the mass presence of tourists and the associated tourism industry. A beautifully dilapidated old palace and fort crown the dominant hillside of Bundi, deep medieval step wells or baori's as they are locally known, are a big feature of the town, architecturally grand and ornate for what was once a special ritual of gathering water. Narrow streets lined with more blue buildings, many traditional heritage style havelli's and hoards of Langur monkeys that scamper across the roof tops in the late afternoons, pilfering items of interest or food if left unattended, hence a room with air con and closed windows is a good choice if you actually want to hang onto any of your possessions.

Spending a day wandering the narrow streets we were introduced to the genuinely warm hospitality and amiability of the locals, with offers of chai (tea) coming from most open doorways. As this was off season and the tourist numbers rarely get that high anyway, the whole place very quickly got to know who we were. We were introduced to one person, he tells his 400 or so family members that everyone seems to have, they tell their friends, and before you know it you are being greeted on first name terms by complete strangers.

While at our havelli guesthouse one morning, a friend of the owner approached us and invited to be his guests at a cricket tournament that was taking place at a village some 40kms down the road, followed by dinner at his family home, to which we gratefully accepted. Slightly unsure about what actually lay ahead...the cricket tournament was apparently a nationwide affair of 70 teams, the current rounds being hosted in the town of Deoli, our host, Mr. Vikas, was part of the local organisation that was responsible for putting it on, along with all other cultural and sporting events in the region. So Mr. Vikas and his driver picked us up and drove us to Deoli, where we proceeded to spend the next couple of hours doing a tour of numerous households and small business' where we were proudly introduced as 'Paul Philip' (or sometimes John Philip when he forgot my name) and 'Claire Jane' , his very good friends from London. Every stop we made we were given drink, which everyone insisted we drink even after protests of 'we have just had 7 cups of chai, 3 mango juices and 2 bottles of Pepsi each in close succession.’ A visit to a jeweller followed where we given our choice of a ring each, which they insist we take (at no charge), we think to act as dummy wedding or engagement rings, such is the importance attached to marriage in India. Next stop a photo studio where a professional photographer took photos of Mr. Vikas and the two of us, complete with cuddly tiger sprawled across our laps… Lots of conversations on his phone in Hindi, which the only gist of what was going on we were able to gleen from the odd mention of our names and the term 'chief guests', we started to get some idea of what we were getting roped into we arrived at the cricket ground to be greeted by a fanfare of banging drums and handshakes as we were ushered onto a podium and proceeded to take the centre seats of the head table.

Introduced over the PA system to the entire place, the local and state newspaper and TV photographers then descended on us and started on what turned out to be an endless photo shoot. Before long, the rest of esteemed guests arrived who were duly introduced, who turned to be none other than several key Rajasthan political leaders and head honchos from the Indian national security forces...sat there in our shorts and t-shirts among these genuine VIPs we felt somewhat underdressed. This situation was not made altogether that much better when we were both presented with turbans in the bright multi coloured Rajasthan state colours. To our hosts however we were clearly looking suitably respectable as we then had the microphone thrust upon us and asked to make a speech to the entire gathered crowds and players (some 700 people apparently). Claire doing the sensible thing and playing on the male dominance of Indian culture, insisted she wasn't suited to public speaking and the message should come from me...so up I got and greeted the crowds, introducing myself as Paul Philip from London for continuities sake and proceeded to thank our hosts for their very unexpected (and somewhat unwanted!) display of hospitality, thanked the players for the marvelous display of cricket we had been treated to so far (of which we had seen next to none due to our level of diplomatic duties), and wished for the best team to win. Swiftly sitting down amidst a slightly bemused applause coming from the crowds who were clearly thinking 'who the hell are these two', it was then that Mr. Vikas leant over, thanked me for the speech and requested that during my next speech could I please mention the fact the I had known him for 5 or 6 years and we were now best friends.... 'Next speech'!?!

Just when we thought it was all over as we were all ushered off the stage, rather than being led toward the exit we were led out into the centre of the now floodlit pitch with all the other big wigs for more photo shoots with the teams. I was given the ball and told to bowl at the Rajasthan Minister of Culture. Not having bowled a cricket ball since I was about 8 years old I wasn't exactly confident in my ability, playing it safe I decided to go for an incredibly lame underarm effort that still managed to go wide, Claire nearly having her head taken off by the wildly flailing batsmen in his attempt to reach the ball. It was after this display of sporting prowess by myself, still stood on the pitch under the floodlights that the microphone was handed back to me again, oh joy. Making up some story about meeting Mr. Vikas some 6 years ago during a previous visit to India, we were now very privileged to be invited back here as the guests of honour by our 'best friend', the usual flannel about the great cricket and the best team winning and all that, we then made our way back to the podium slightly slowed down by all the players now wanting their photos taken with us. Next up was the awards ceremony for man of the match etc. Each member of the top table handed over the awards, ourselves included, not even sure what trophy we were handing over.

When we finally came to leave the ground we were mobbed by everyone who had clearly decided we must be important in one way or another, and they now all wanted their photos with us. After obliging for a few minutes, we were being pulled into the card by Mr. Vikas and onto his family home where we introduced to his entire family ('best friends from London' and all that), we went for a meal and then finally somewhat to our relief we were taken back to our guesthouse. Mr. Vikas was keen that we go back the following evening and partake in the Bollywood dancing - but we declined. A very funny, incredibly strange and surreal evening to say the least!

We had another couple of days just ambling around Bundi and taking regular chai breaks with the locals, one local even retelling the Indian version of our English/Irish jokes, i.e. Indian/Pakistan which were all dreadful but they all found them hilarious. We had an hour or so playing street cricket with some local kids, sticking to batting this time we managed considerably better than at the tournament. The people were all really friendly and very very nice, everyone wanted us to take their photo, which in other places we have been usually involves them then asking for money, not here though; they just wanted to see the pictures of themselves on the camera afterwards.

Bundi was a fitting finale to our 2.5 weeks around Rajasthan, definitely worth a visit if anyone is planning a trip out here. We made our way back on another private a/c bus back to Jaipur but not without one final visit from Mr. Vikas, who not only knew what bus we were on but knew the owner and so stopped the bus on-route to present us with some drinks for the journey… one weird and slightly mad individual!

We arrive back in Jaipur and stay one final night at our favourite guesthouse in Rajasthan, the ‘Krishna Palace’ before heading back up to Delhi for one brief night before catching an internal flight up into the far north west corner of Indian, the Himalayan state of Jammu & Kashmir.