FINAL FRIDAY... Feb. 23, 2007

It is hard to believe that in only a few days, this entire experience will draw to a close and we will be flying home to be with family, friends, our Rotary Clubs and for some of us, our jobs! It was just two weeks ago that most of us were heading to airports, to fly to Newark and to meet one another (most for the first time) and then wing it over to Delhi, India! So much has occurred since that time, and we will be recalling events for weeks to come - little vignettes where we might have seen a woman in a beautiful sari, or caught the glimpse of a smile on the face of a child, or watched as a tiny child swallowed those two tiny drops of life we administered at the National Immunization Day on February 11th.

Akram Ali, our guide while in Jaisalmer, met us at the hotel at about 8:30 and we all boarded our coach, once again happy to see Kristian and Bobbalou, our driver and conductor. This morning, Akram was taking us to a place most tourists do not visit - the Crematorium for the Royal Families. What is interesting to note from the photo at left, is the fact that bordering this Crematorium is a huge WIND FARM, where power is being generated from some 1800 windmills. This industry is beginning to flourish in India, and should be the answer for domestic power in the cities and towns, initially here in Rajasthan, and eventually throughout the country. At the crematorium, we saw marker stone after marker stone, where the once and future kings of Rajasthan have been buried, along with their wives. As you can see from this marker, which is housed beneath a very elaborate yellow sandstone canopy roof, the king's marker is to the left, showing him as a warrior on horseback, and then his two closest wives shown on the next stone, and six more wives on the third stone. Hundreds of years have passed since members of the royal families have been buried on this hallowed ground. The custom, we were told, was that the deceased was brought to this crematorium, cremated, and then those attending would go to the small lake below and bathe themselves before returning to their homes, fully cleansed. As I mentioned, this king was buried along with his eight wives. The custom was for the wives of the king to practice sati - is a Hindu funeral custom, now very rare, in which the dead man's widow immolates herself on her husband’s funeral pyre. This is seldom practiced any longer, but was obviously a sign of highest regard and respect for the husband. While we were there, Akram also told us about jauhar. Evidently, several hundreds of years ago, during a huge war, the women who had remained at home were concerned that their husbands were losing the battles. The women felt that the warriors were thinking about them at home, rather than fighting, so they committed jauhar and built an enormous fire in a pit and they all jumped in (The immolation, en masse, of women and young children to avoid molestation by victorious invading army).

Following our visit to the crematorium, we returned to the walled city and wandered through the streets and alleys and back to some of the shops we had visited the day before. One of the Team wanted to purchase a few items at a shop in one of the Havelis, so we went there and Akram waved at us below, much as the king may have done hundreds of years before. Below were booksellers, where we were able to find a printing of HOLY COW by Sarah MacDonald, a favorite of Joan Nickell, as well as one of her favorite expressions. Darlene found a few shops to interest her, as did Jay, Jo and I. I also wanted to return to Sarwar's CULTURAL AND FOSSIL MUSEUM, to take him the gifts my friend has asked me to deliver. Akram and I returned to the Museum while the others shopped and explored other sights. One of the palaces had a guard at the entrance, and on either side of the portal, there were many hand-prints. These we were told, marked the place where wives of kings had shown their grief by painting their hands red, and then imprinting them onto the wall of the front of the palace. Jo had actually read something regarding this, before she arrived in India. We met with Sarwar again, and he asked if I would carry some of his original paintings - representing several different religions - back to the states and pass them on to my friend in Maine. I was glad to be able to do this for him.

We returned to our hotel for lunch, and then re-packing, to try to get all of the things we had purchased thus far, into our suitcases and duffel bags. We had already checked out of the hotel in the morning, before leaving for our sightseeing, so once more, Kristian and Bobbalou were waiting for us to board the coach for the last time. They would take us to the train station for yet ANOTHER overnight train ride - this time through the countryside of Rajasthan, eventually arriving in Jaipur the following morning. Joan was still waiting for a package to be delivered from one of the shops where she had purchased some pants to be made for her. We called Akram on his mobile and he arrived at the train station and brought the package for Joan out to the track where we awaited boarding on the train - our home for the upcoming thirteen hours. The hotel had packed us each a boxed dinner, which we would enjoy later on. We said our good-byes to Kristian, Bobbalou and eventually Akram. It had been a wonderful and wonder-filled couple of days, and we bid farewell to Jaisalmer.

One of the lasting impressions we discovered was government authorized BHANG SHOPS - I will leave this to your imaginations. Another lasting impression was the little boy, shown in the photo here, at the entrance to his home, just playing on the front stoop, as so many of us may have done during our own childhoods.

What OTHER doors would be opening for us???

Thursday - Feb. 22, 2007

This is our hotel in Jaisalmer - the Heritage Inn. We had hardly seen much of it when we arrived bleary-eyed the night before, so it was most pleasant to see the grounds in the daylight. I was up early, and while sitting in the darkness of our room, in the distance, I heard a trumpeter playing REVEILLE - to awaken the soldiers stationed at a nearby military base. I checked the time on my mobile phone and it was precisely O-SIX HUNDRED HOURS! Exactly one hour later, from a different direction, I heard another rendition of Reveille played by another trumpeter - I guess those are the late risers! We got up and headed over to the dining building in the center of the courtyard, and had a substantial breakfast. While walking back to our room, to gather cameras and extra batteries, the relatively quiet din was shattered by a fighter jet cruising overhead (and not that far overhead, I might add) and then breaking the sound barrier. The Indian Air Force was conducting its daily exercises, and several such flights occurred in the next few hours. I guess I should have felt relieved that there was a substantial border patrol force stationed in Jaisalmer. I also had a tinge of concern, but that passed quickly.

The group gathered in the lobby of the hotel, where we were introduced to Akram Ali, who would serve as our guide for that day and the next. Darlene was feeling a bit under the weather, and so decided to remain at the hotel and attempt to quiet her "Delhi belly" symptoms. We were confident that Darlene was in good hands, particularly in the hands of Mr. Singh, the proprietor of the Paradise Shopping complex on the hotel grounds! Our driver and conductor met us under the port-cochere. We boarded our coach and were off to the first sights - those at a man made lake in Jaisalmer. Gadsisar Lake, was constructed in 1367, and had served as the water supply for the area for centuries. The gate where Akram took us to first view the lake, is supposed to have been part of a house built by a courtesan ( prostitute) and when the Mogul heard of this, he ordered the gate and the house to be torn down. The courtesan heard about this, and quickly had part of it dedicated as a temple, thereby rendering the Mogul's demands impotent, as a temple could never be destroyed, at least not by civil order. The view from the gate is quite spectacular, and one looks out upon the lake with various "floating castles" for the members of the royal family to enjoy the lake. From the height of the courtesan gate, we looked below to see a few small boats - similar to the gondolas of Venice.

From the top of the gate, we then descended and walked around to the other side, to see a small monument to a member of the royal family from ages previous, which was shielded by a type of gazebo. We looked down into the water below and saw the surface roiling - evidently there are some pretty good sized catfish in the lake, and we would soon be feeding bread to them. The water went from rippling to a full boil in seconds! The catfish were not the most attractive looking fish, and certainly did not give anyone an appetite for lunch which would come in a few hours. From this vantage point, we then walked back down the path, and returned to our bus. We left this area and drove into the city, where we would be visiting the fortress which comprised the old part of the city. Akram explained to us that parts of the fort are actually sinking, due not to the heavy rains, but rather because there are so many people living within the fort - and some of the castles within the fortress have been converted into small hotels - in his words, "the fortress is being destroyed because too many people are flushing toilets and the water has to go somewhere and it is causing the undermining of the walls of the fortress." We could see various points in the walls which were being undermined, as well as sections of the walls which have been restored - still using no mortar, but rather constructed dry-stone style. Where parts of India boast red sandstone, Jaisalmer almost glows in the sunlight, with yellow sandstone. Akram's grandfather, father and one of his brothers all have been in the profession of building, using this sandstone, and he proudly showed us a section of wall that has been restored by his grandfather.



One can see, looking closely, how the moisture is seeping through the walls of the fortress, down at the bottom. Akram, although his livelihood depends upon tourism - the major revenue generator in the area - he is hopeful that no more hotels be allowed within the walled city, and furthermore that the ones which are already there are terminated, so the city remains for another thousand years. We entered the fortress, and Akram explained there are three gates into the inner part of the city - and each gate takes a different turn. Such a maze would be confusing to elephants, and added extra protection against attack, because the elephants would encounter difficulties making first a right turn and then a left and then a right turn again. The Ganesh gate had been repaired, and done so at night. It was obvious to see the three crucial errors made in this reconstruction - not the least of which was the fact that the doors did not meet at the bottom, nor did they close all the way to the ground. As we wandered up through the Ganesh gate, we came across what is termed the FIRST CYBER CAFE IN THE WORLD - over four hundred years old! Well the structure may be over four hundred years old, but...

We proceeded through the third gate and then walked through different sections of the walled city. We visited a Jain temple - one of the most beautiful around - where we could actually take photographs of the statuary, which we could not do at the Jain temple near Ranakpur. There are obviously a great many shops and other points of interest within the city walls, and we would often stray a bit to follow a path to a different doorway or an colorful shop entrance, or to observe the produce sellers within the market area.
Since our lunch was included in our accommodations, we returned to our hotel - after climbing to the roof of one of the castle-hotels, to look over the view of the city below - with Akram pointing out the Havelis we would be visiting that afternoon. He suggested that we meet again at 3:00, but we agreed upon 2:00, as we wanted to see as much of the city as possible, and have an opportunity to do a bit of shopping. When we returned to the hotel, Jo checked on Darlene, and she seemed to have recovered enough to enjoy a massage during the morning, and to find time for some shopping at the Paradise Shopping complex with Mr. Singh.







Following lunch, and a short respite at poolside, we returned to the lobby, met Akram and our driver and conductor, and left for the city again. There was one person in particular I wanted to meet - Sarwar Khan. His family has been in this region for generations, and a friend of a friend told me about him. He has a dance troupe, and a cultural museum within Jaisalmer, near one of the Havelis, and she had asked me to take some things to him, all the way from Maine. About eighteen months ago, Sarwar had been sponsored to come to the United States, where he and his troupe, played music and danced at the Smithsonian Museum, as well as several other venues, including the Portland (Maine) Museum of Art. They even visited the world-famous L.L. Bean store in Freeport! I asked Akram if he knew of this gentleman, telling him that his Cultural Center was located not too far from Patwon-ki-Haveli. I told him a bit more, and he asked, "Is Sarwar the man with the blule eyes?" "How did you know?" I replied. Evidently, Sarwar is fairly well known. Akram said he knew OF him, but had never met him. I had Sarwar's mobile phone number, so we connected and agreed to meet later in the day - perhaps in the evening. In the meanwhile, we visited several havelis - these are residences, many still inhabited by the same families as those who built them - owned by once-wealthy traders and merchants, with very elaborate facades. At the present time, quite a few of the havelis are occupied as residences in the rear or upper levels, while providing shopping experiences for the tourists on the front and lower levels. Again, we visited a number of these shops, and then Akram took us to Patwon-ki-Haveli. There is a courtyard opposite the entrance, which was created by order of former Prime Minister Indira Ghandi. She had visited Jaisalmer, and noted that it was difficult for anyone to drink in the beauty of the facade, and so the government purchased the building directly across the street, razed it, creating a park-like area, and paid for the construction of a new home for the residents of the building that had been torn down.



We did some jewelry shopping at DD's Shop - he was most genial and had some wonderful antique pieces in silver and gold. Time passed easily and before we knew it, we had reached 7:00 p.m. and then some. I telephoned Sarwar and we agreed to meet up with him at his museum. He has a collection of fossils from the area, as well as paintings he has created representing many different faiths, including Muslim, Hindu, Bhuddism, Christianity, Judiasm, etc. Throughout the building are collections of photographs, as well as decorations created by the women who are receiving training there. These decorations can be used for wall hanging, as well as for place mats or coasters and are made from folding of candy wrappers. The children go out into the streets, collect the wrappers and bring them back to the center where the women wash them and flatten them, and then fold them into wonderfully colorful rounds, and even a ladies purse with handles. We were all most impressed to learn what Sarwar is trying to create at this location, and in helping to preserve his culture and heritage. The biggest treat, however, was when Sarwar invited us to go upstairs and to sit on the floor and listen to the wonderful music performed by Sarwar and his troupe of musicians. The experience was extraordinary and one each of us felt very honored to have. I promised to bring the gifts sent with me by Sarwar's friend and then we parted company, returned to our coach and returned to the hotel for a very late dinner. Darlene was waiting for us to arrive back at the hotel, and we enjoyed sharing our experiences from the day - topped off by an incredible evening. For more information about this wonderful center, visit: http://www.folkartsrajasthan.org/ You will be pleased and amazed to learn of this wonderful venture and how you can become a part of it.

ASH WEDNESDAY - Feb. 21, 2007

Before leaving home, I had spoken to my priest about the possibility of conducting a worship service for the observance of Ash Wednesday. He said that would be fine, since I was a Eucharistic Minister at my church. I was able to make several photo-copies of the service from the Book of Common Prayer, and took those with me, along with ashes. The tradition is to burn the palms from the previous Palm Sunday, and to use those ashes for imposition on Ash Wednesday. Never having burned palms, I did this in my office. WOW! What a smoky atmosphere was created, and the odor was not too pleasant, either. But it was done, the ashes were placed in a tiny receptacle and I took them in my suitcase to be used today.

After breakfast, all of us gathered in the dining tent, and I passed a copy of the service to each person. I was particularly pleased that District Governor Jay Kapner from North Carolina, was willing to participate in the service. He is Jewish, and I had asked if he would be willing to read the scripture lessons from the Old Testament, as well as leading the reading of the Psalm. Joan Nickell read the lesson from the New Testament and I read the Gospel Lesson. Just imagine... being out in the middle of the dessert in Rajasthan, India, surrounded by towns where Hindus and Muslims by far comprise the greatest percentage of population, but still observing a date which is sacred in the Christian tradition, and having participation from people of other religions. Truly a melting pot and an ecumenical service. One of our team is a spiritualist, and she was pleased to be there as an observer.

Once the service was over, we piled back into the jeep, with Dinesh seated on top of our bags in the trailer, and we headed into town. We were all quite excited, as we were going to Pradeep's home and would be taking showers - real hot showers - using the facilities at his cottages (which were more like condominium units), before having lunch. We arrived in Siana, and I think Joan was first out of the back of the jeep, inquiring as to which unit had the good hair dryer! We kidded her about that for most of the trip. Everything was great for Joan, as long as there was a hot shower and a good hair dryer. She had brought her own with her, and at the first hotel on the morning of February 11th, she plugged it into the outlet and it shot flames out of the front and back! Well, we had our showers, relaxed a bit in the yard, surrounded by waves of magnificent color provided by bougainvillea bushes. We adjourned to the dining tent and Dinesh served another meal prepared by Pradeep's wife. It was delicious, as usual, and far more than we needed to eat - also as usual. While we were waiting outside, we were entertained by the family of monkeys who were swinging from tree branch to tree branch, and climbing up on the roofs of the several cottages at Pradeep's home.

We said our "good-byes" and boarded our coach with our driver, Kristian and the conductor, Bobbalou. We were headed to Jaisalmer, which lies about fifty miles from the Pakistani border, in the western part of Rajasthan. The trip is supposed to take about six hours, but as usual, we were in for a much longer journey.

Several months ago, there were terrific floods in Rajasthan, particularly in the area we were traveling, so many of the major roads were washed out, or at least sections of them. In addition, we were also taking "short cuts" to reduce the time we would be on washed-out roads, but found that these roads were in even worse condition than some of the ones we might have traveled. As it turned out, the drive which should have lasted no more than six hours, lasted nearly nine, and when we arrived at our hotel in Jaisalmer, we were not even sure if we could have dinner, as the dining room might be closed.

Our contact met us and we got settled into our rooms - "Does my room have a good hair dryer?" We freshened up a bit and then went to the dining room to have a light dinner, before retiring for the evening. In the morning, we would meet our guide, Akram Ali, a young Muslim who had been guiding for about eight years - four as a licensed guide! Another door would be opened...

Shrove Tuesday - Feb. 20, 2007

Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday…
Feb. 20, 2007

Up and at it early, and I just wanted to peel the Velcro doorway of our tent and step out into the fresh air of our dessert campsite, having gone to bed in the midst of a starry sky, as clear as Maine night skies. I brought my laptop out with me and set it up at the table in the dining tent and to try to catch up on my daily journal.

Within only a few minutes, while sitting at the table typing, I became aware that Dinesh was standing at my side, offering morning tea. He wore one of the most colorful turbans I have ever seen – one of a range of pastels from pink to blue to yellow to green, and artfully wound around his head. He poured my tea and a bit of milk and about a quarter-teaspoon of raw sugar. This all in a demitasse sized cup… Shortly afterward, I realized that Pradeep was standing nearby, and when I turned my head to say “Good morning,” he smiled, placed his hands together in front of his chest and offered a “Namaste”. It was going to be another wonderful day, although a bit cooler than the day before.

We were supposed to be up and at it a bit earlier than the day before, so when we went trekking through the hills, it would not be quite as hot as it had been the day before. The generator was started, so I was able to plug in my laptop to get re-charged, and then went into the ten to wake up Jay Kapner. I had already heard Joan Nickell stirring in her tent, and then heard as she pulled the Velcro opening apart and emerged into the cook of the dessert morning. She had been reading in one of her novels, and then came outside to see what was scheduled for the day. Jo Barrow and Darlene Beal also emerged from their tent, and Dinesh began to bring out some special chapattis for breakfast – he had made the with aloo and gobi (potato and cauliflower). Breakfast was another wonderful meal, complete with omelets, chapattis, orange juice, and of course, tea.

As soon as breakfast was over, we put away anything we wouldn’t need for the trek, and then set off with Sarveer, our guide. We began by following essentially the same path we had climbed the previous day. When we descended into the clearing, I looked to my right and once again noticed what appeared to be a home or some kind of building(s) carved into the hillside and what appeared to be a GIANT big screen TV monitor. As I looked more closely, the design on this “screen” was a stylized symbol for OM. This is a very sacred symbol for Hindus, and this particular OM had been created with great purpose and attention to design, at least in my observation. We continued to trek more closely to this hillside edifice, and then passed by it. I noticed a few people in front of the building – one thin man wearing the traditional orange and yellow cloth of a Hindu priest or Brahman. Eventually, as we were walking along a level car path (road would be far too generous) Sarveer pointed out the prints in the sand of at least one leopard. He indicated quietly that this leopard had been here recently – at most, only a few hours before we arrived!

About an hour and a half into the trek, we heard the distant sound of the approaching Jeep, driven by Pradeep, and so we waited for him to arrive. Joan and I opted to continue the morning with Pradeep in the Jeep, while the other three continued on foot with Sarveer. They would climb up and over two low ranges and meet us on the other side.

After the others had left, I asked Pradeep about the temple on the hillside and he confirmed that it was a Hindu temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva. I asked if it would be alright and respectful for the three of us to climb the hundred stairs up to the temple and to visit it. He said it would be fine and so we walked back to the base of the stairs and he explained the temple had literally been carved out of the hillside, beginning with a cave, and expanding it into the mountain. There is a natural spring from within the rock, providing fresh, safe drinking water to the monastery and anyone who wishes to come and gather water from the pipe. We removed our shoes at the entrance and were invited inside. Pradeep directed Joan and me to the left, where the temple is actually located, and we heard the sounds of chanting by the Brahman priest, as he bathed the god, Shiva. It is customary for the god(s) to be bathed several times each day, using milk, honey, sugar, yogurt and cumin. Once the god is fully bathe and rinsed, then it is “dressed” in brightly colored pieces of fabric, and then adorned with fresh flowers. All the while, the Brahman priest is chanting various mantras. He finishes bathing the god, and removes the solid silver coiled cobra snake and hood, to reveal a sizable black stone lingam (phallus) which is one of the representations of Lord Shiva. He applies several smears of colored paste all around the lingam, yellow and orange and red, and then adorns the other idol statues with the same colors. He then comes to us, chants another mantra and smears the red-orange paste on each of our foreheads – a tikka – and then ties the red-yellow-orange strings ( Raksha Bandhan is a very special festival in India. It is the celebration of the special bond between a brother and a sister. Sisters tie a band of red thread around their brothers’ wrists as a sign of affection. Legend tells of the sister asking that the blessings of God be showered on her brother throughout the year. By extending his wrist forward so his sister can tie the threads around it, the brother is symbolically extending his hand of protection over her. ) around our wrists. We were then invited to sprinkle marigold petals and roses onto the various idol statues, before we left. We did so and then went to pay our respects to the head of the monastery – an older gentleman who sat outside the inner sanctum of the temple. We bid him farewell, and descended the stairs and walked back to the jeep.

Although I had experiences similar to this from past trips to India, I was interested to see how moved Joan seemed to be with the ceremony and the reverence with which various parts are observed. We were pleased to have had this very unique experience.

After returning to the jeep, Pradeep told us we would be driving to another village, about 30-45 minutes away, where we would wait for the others of the team who would meet us at the end of their trek. We arrived at the gates leading into another temple – this one also dedicated to Lord Shiva, but was as ornate as the first temple had been stark. There was a Brahman priest at this temple, as well, but he had concluded the ritual bathing of the gods and so we missed that. However, in the heat, with the spilling of milk, honey, sugar, yogurt and cumin, onto the floor of the temple, the attraction to myriad flies is an understatement! A few minutes after removing our shoes and entering the temple, the others joined us from their trek over the mountains, and we were invited to visit with the head of the monastery and were taken to the upper apartment of the monk in charge of the monastery.

There we were invited to sit on cushions and have tea with him, and we enjoyed speaking with him about myriad topics. He seemed most genial, although at times he appeared to be “drifting off” from our conversation. Perhaps it was just a momentary lapse, we were unsure. However, when we asked him whether or not he would ever be interested in traveling outside of India – perhaps to America or Great Britain, he told us he could never leave there. When asked why, he replied, “Because of my addiction.” Pradeep, our host, then explained that this monk as totally cared for by the other younger priests at the temple, and that he has a constant supply of opium provided to him – consuming what appeared to be about the size of a pack of cigarettes of opium every day. That explained his drifting more clearly.

When we departed from that temple, we climbed back into the jeep and then were driven back into the little village, where we were to have lunch at the home of one of the shepherds there. The villagers seemed curious but welcoming, and we all sat on woven beds on frames made of branches, underneath a roof of twigs and branches, to shield us from the hot sun. Once again, Pradeep’s wife had provided a wonderful lunch for us, served by Dinesh. We rested after lunch and noticed that some of the children of the village sneaked up behind a hut near where we were sitting, and we waved to them and beckoned them to come closer. They were shy and hid back behind the hut. I asked Pradeep if he could ask the shepherd to invite the children or the ladies to come and sit by us and sing some songs. They did eventually come closer and sit in a group very close to us, with several of the ladies covering their faces with very colorful veils – a tradition for most women of the villages in Rajasthan in general, and Siana in particular.

The group sang three or four songs and then gestured that we should do the same. We joined in a chorus of “You are My Sunshine”, much to their delight. Lunch and entertainment over, we then climbed back into the jeep for fairly far out into the dessert. It seemed as thought we were following paths – foot paths at best – further and further out into the dessert and away from any villages. In the distance, we saw about one hundred people working with shovels and pickaxes and hods (basins). As we drew closer, Pradeep told us about a water conservation project, where these folks were working to dig down areas of soil, approximately 15’ x 20’ and two feet in depth. They would then break up the clods of soil, which were almost like concrete, and carry hod after hod and dump onto a pie, which would serve as a dam to stop future floods in that region. In the past, the earthen dams were only two feet high, and they were constructing this one to be a minimum of four feet high, if not six feet. When the monsoons come, the series of dams, which covered several square miles, would slow down the flooding process, enough to be able to cause dissipation of the waters into the ground, thereby making it more fertile and able to be tilled for growing crops. Each of the laboring families – consisting of three or four people, was given the task of clearing the parcels in two days’ time, and would be paid in full an amount equivalent to $2.00 per day per person, IF the work was completed satisfactorily. If not, they would be paid on a pro-rata basis, but at a lesser rate overall. The workers asked Pradeep if he would contact the government official who was responsible for paying them, as they had not been paid in four weeks. He immediately tried calling from his mobile phone, but was unable to contact the person. He promised to follow up on this the next day or two. We were all pretty impressed with the amount of work these people are doing – particularly the women – and recalled that only a few days prior, we were also carrying hods of dirt on our heads, so felt especially empathetic toward them.

When we left there, we drove back toward our tent encampment, but got sidetracked along the way by a shepherd, who had recently seen a leopard, and, “Did we want to go leopard hunting again?” Of course we did, so we found Sarveer along one of the paths (it is remarkable how he and others just seemed to materialize when needed). He climbed aboard the jeep, with another two men – one would handle the spotlight and the other would track with Sarveer on foot. As I had earlier described Sarveer – he was tall, wearing the traditional dhoti and shirt-waistcoat, and his aqua turban. He had a wonderful, steady gait, almost gliding over the rough terrain, with little adjustment for obstacles. He simply moved ahead. His eyes were constantly moving about, and he obviously had keen hearing, as well.

At one point, Sarveer, almost in one fluid movement, climbed out of the back of the jeep and down onto the ground. He vanished into the brush and within a few moments came back into view, with his hand on the shoulder of a young man who was carrying a lamb. He then turned and walked with the young man off into the distance, returning about ten minutes later. When I asked Pradeep what Sarveer had done, he explained that the young man was from the neighboring village and was mentally retarded, and Sarveer was guiding him safely through that area, since he was carrying a lamb, and also was mentally challenged. With his same gentle smile, Sarveer returned to the jeep and climbed back in with us. We then traversed back and forth at the base of the hills, looking intently for the leopard. We continued this for about an hour, until darkness fell and we then used the search light to perhaps catch a glimpse of the leopard’s eyes, as the light passed by him. We did see eyes off in the distance, but never got any closer to the leopard. We returned to the campsite, had been joined by Pradeep’s brother, uncle and father for our social time, and then ate dinner and retired early.

How I spent my 59th birthday.. Feb. 19, 2007

“Hey Elias. You gotta come see this. Elias! Come on out here, it is time for breakfast!” Unfortunately, I am not able to convey the sound of a southern drawl through words, but the voice calling to me was that of Jo Barrow. In a couple of minutes, I came out of my tent, turned to my left and saw my four teammates, along with Pradeep, standing in a line and listened as they sang “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” to me. Pradeep then moved forward and handed me a bouquet of yellow flowers and some white tiny furry flowers, which were like a wild growing gypsophilla (baby’s breath). “Sorry, Elias, but on short notice, this is the best we could do,” said Pradeep. There was no reason at all for an apology, and along with a card signed by the others, I knew this would be the beginning of a wonderful day.

We had breakfast and then Pradeep reinforced what we would be doing. He introduced us to Sarveer, a local shepherd, who would serve as our trekking guide. Sarveer was a man who appeared to be about seven feet tall, wearing the typical dhoti (sort of a loin cloth which provided pant legs to the ankle) and a white tightly cinched jacket vest, and of course, his dark aqua colored wrapped turban.

We would leave the campsite, climb up the hills and continue trekking for about an hour and a half. Pradeep would meet us in the jeep at that time, at one of the local villages, and then we could choose to continue trekking or ride with him to the next point. It has been some time since I went mountain climbing, and although the air was clear and clean, it seemed I was having some difficulty breathing – probably something to do with the cold I had been trying to fight for the past few days. Following Sarveer with his steady and measured gait, we ascended a dried up riverbed, climbing over and around rounded rocks, loose gravel and sinking into fine dessert sand. Darlene and Jay both said they had a good deal of experience in trekking and stayed close behind Sarveer. Joan, Jo and I formed the second tier of the group. The beauty of the surrounding hills was magnificent. We had been told that these hills most likely had been submerged under water – either lakes or the sea – for many centuries, as the rocks were not pointed or jagged, but rounded and some areas, almost eaten away by constant wave action. Faces and animal heads were easy to detect among the formations and stark beauty surrounded us on all sides.

What seemed quite remarkable is the fact that within one or two minutes, although feeling ourselves totally alone in the wilderness, another person or persons would appear from out of nowhere, just walking, or carrying sticks on their heads, but silently and almost reverently walking through these hills and valleys. We noticed a Hindu temple built into the one of the hills – a spiritual outpost of sorts. After about an hour and three quarters, we arrived at a tiny group of huts, some with thatched roofs, some with just sticks for walls, but one or two with brick and mortar for walls. There was one stick enclosure which housed a small flock of goats. Most of the attention of the few villagers was focused upon the repair of a single-cycle engine (what some have referred to as a one-lunger) which had thrown the belt, thereby shutting down the pumping of the well. Meanwhile, a tiny woman, with her head covered in a reddish-orange veil, stood at the other side of the well, and hooked her one gallon bucket to the rope, and cranked as the rope was lowered deep into the well, hit the water, filled and then cranked the opposite direction to raise the bucket, so she could fill her own jardinière to carry on her head, back to her hut. A few of us peered over the edge of the well opening and I, for one, was amazed at the depth of the hole – a conservative estimate is the surface of the water was at least 100 feet down from where we stood.

The belt was replaced onto the wheels, and a young man picked up the crank, connected it to the engine, and began cranking it. After a few strong turns, a giant cough and a sputter, the engine caught and began turning over on its own. The sound was one I remember hearing as a youngster, while attending a county fair, where farmers brought their “one-lungers” to compete against one another. One belt turned the fly wheel, which then turned another wheel, which began the pumping action, and water was drawn up into the hose and then out and spread through the sluice system into the fields of castor, wheat, hemp and cumin. In a few minutes, however, the engine coughed and ceased to breathe, and another repair and fine-tuning was required.

We continued our trek and met Pradeep as he arrived at the edge of the village. We rested a bit and some went on with the trek, while others rode in the jeep to the village where we would be having lunch. Pradeep explained to us that his family had owned property in this area for some fifteen generations. The family had overseen some twelve villages, and the manner in which folks from the villages and outlying areas greeted Pradeep, it was obvious he and his family were almost venerated. We drove into the tiny village of Nabi. We were told that the children were not in school because the teacher had not shown up that day. There are checks and balances on the system, however, and if it happened with any regularity, the teacher would be replaced by someone who would be more responsible.

Pradeep, Joan and I waited for the others to arrive, and when they did, we were directed to the home of one of the shepherds of the village. At first, we thought we would be eating at Sarveer’s home, but although he knew them, this was not his home. Lunch had actually been prepared by Pradeep’s wife and then sent along with another driver, bringing it to where we were waiting, under a sleeping shelter in the yard. We were all sitting on some woven “spring-mattresses” on three bed frames that were nestled together beneath the sleeping roof, and could easily have settled down for a short nap! Dinesh, one of the servers who works for Pradeep, both at his farm, his cottage colony and the campsite, arrived wearing his pastel multi-colored turban, and opened up the multi-level packed lunch. Included in the containers were roti, rice, dal, palek paneer, aloo and a mutton dish. Since we were on a picnic, we were eating off melmac plates, rather than china! Following lunch, we reclined on the beds, and watched as one child and then another tried sneaking up behind the back of one hut, inching closer and closer to us, until we discovered them and they retreated, only to make another stealthy attempt in a minute or two.

One little boy was singing a song very softly, and when we encouraged him to sing it louder, and closer to us, he showed his bashful side and declined our offer. In a few minutes, we asked Pradeep to tell these women and children that we would really like to hear them sing, and perhaps if we sang, they would also. In a few minutes, about a dozen women, and a few children gathered up near the sleeping shelter where we had eaten our lunch, and sat down in a tight circle, some of them not facing us and others simply covering their faces with the red or yellow veils. Some seemed fascinated with sitting as closely to white westerners as they were. One older woman, seemingly the leader of the group, began chanting, and the others joined her. What a privilege to hear these very shy women and girls, sharing with us their own special native songs, presumably ones that had been passed on from generation to generation, and songs that the average tourist would never hear. They sang two or three songs and then we offered our own rendition of “I’ve been workin’ on the railroad” which seemed to delight them. We finally departed the yard and the village, and returned to the campsite.

Since I had been fighting a respiratory upset, I decided it would be wise to take a short nap. The rest chose either to write in their journals, wander around the site, read or just enjoy the scenery. I was awakened by my mobile phone ringing, and when I answered it, I heard another rendition of “Happy Birthday, to you!” sung by my sister and her husband. She told me she had tried and tried to call me on other occasions, but the numbers I had provided were more than she needed and it took the assistance of an operator in the US to put the call through to me. She brought me up to date on the snowfall of the past few days, and a few other tidbits, and we said goodbye. I came outside my tent, and everyone seemed to be gathering, as we had been promised to go out on a leopard safari, as one had been sighted earlier in the afternoon, and we might catch a glimpse of him.

Pradeep climbed into the driver’s seat, we all piled into the back of the jeep, and Sarveer joined us. Out we set on this next chapter of our adventure. We had driven a few kilometers and then my mobile phone rang again. This time, it was my wife, who sang a shortened version of “Happy Birthday, to you!” and I could hear her then ask our five-year-old grandson, “J.T.” if he wanted to speak to me. I could hear sadness in his voice as he said, “Happy Birthday, Papa.” He told me he was sad because I was not there for him to be able to give me a birthday hug. I told him I would see him in a week, but he still sounded sad. Then I said, “J.T., guess what Papa is doing right now?” He kind of whimpered, “What, Papa?” Then I said, “Papa and his friends are going out into the hills to look for a leopard!” Well this seemed to really peak his interest, and he and I had several minutes of excited and animated conversation, while he sort of translated every few words or thoughts to my wife. Finally, I told him I loved him and he passed the phone back to my wife. We caught up on a few family and office matters, and then said goodbye.

Now to the task at hand… to spot the leopard in the hills. One might think this would be a relatively simple task, but not so. We traversed back and forth along a soft sandy road-path, constantly maintaining our focus upon the hills above. I believe it was Pradeep who first called our attention to the cat who was half hidden behind a large boulder, just below and to the right of a scrubby bush, to the right of the rock with the big nose! It took several minutes for each of us to zero in on him with the shared set of binoculars. The leopard was obviously more content watching us than he was to move from his location, so we left that area for a few minutes, enough time for darkness ot begin to surround us, thereby making it possible to catch a reflection of his eyes with a spotlight we would shine in his general direction when we returned to that same site in a few minutes. We did just that, and were able to locate him, right where we had left him – another sign that he was not on the prowl, at least not then.

We returned to the campsite, where another campfire welcomed us, and we sat around it enjoying the light and the warmth, before being summoned to the table for dinner. Another delicious meal, which prompted Jo Barrow to ask Pradeep if he had published a campsite cookbook. He said they had not, and we all encouraged him to do so and to allow us to market it. He agreed, but only if he had the 50% advance of the royalties up front! We all laughed and finished dinner, some fruit for desert and then retired to bed. The generator whined on for another hour or so, but that did not keep me from falling asleep before it did.

What an amazing day… spent on the other side of the world from home, camped out in the dessert looking for leopards, seeing natural wonders all around us, meeting villagers along out trek and then eating in their yard, hearing native women and girls sing songs to which we would never know the meaning, searching for a leopard, and enjoying a dinner around a campfire with friends… but the best of all hearing family several times during the day, singing “Happy Birthday, to you!”

SUNDAY, so it must be church??? Feb. 18, 2007

Following breakfast at Rajputana, we met our driver and Shakti Singh, and departed for the next leg of our journey – Ranakpur. After driving for about two and a half hours, and climbing and then descending some rather steep small mountains – still part of the Aravali hills – we really came to appreciate the skills of our driver, Krishan. Turn after turn was narrow, sharp, and precipitously close to the edge of the road, where on one side or the other the drop-off was steep and without a perceptible bottom.

At one point along the way, we came upon a parade in a tiny village - a celebration for one of the gods, and we were able to get out of the coach, take photographs and actually gave out some "goodies" from what Roy Wise had left on the bus the previous week. The children loved the bracelets and candies, and we moved on toward Ranakpur. To this, one must add the fact that we were not the only vehicle traveling this road, but rather every few minutes, we would encounter large tour buses or huge trucks loaded with stone, either trying to pass us from behind, or meeting them head-on. Sprinkled intermittently throughout this drama was the occasional goatherd doing his best to control his flock which would much rather walk down the center of the road instead of wandering off into the wooded areas alongside it.

When we finally arrived in the region of Ranakpur, we decided to have lunch first and then to tour the 15th century Jain temple, which was nestled in the shade along one of the hills. We pulled off to the left side of the road and slowly proceeded down a dirt road leading to a parking lot, disembarked our coach, and were greeted by two young Rajasthani boys, one playing a small drum, while the other smashed a brass cymbal with a stick – all to greet us and welcome us to an oasis for lunch. Patrons were sitting beneath small tent roofed areas at rudimentary tables, and we were led to our table, which was situated right in the center of the eating area. A small stream that originated in the hills tumbled over rocks, spilling down under the eating area. We enjoyed a great meal and checked out the restrooms before boarding the coach.

On the way back to the Jain temple, we stopped to observe how Dhourry carpets are made – these woven by a very skilled and well-spoken young man, who worked with his two brothers, his wife and little boy. The designs are simple, geometric and often referred to as tribal in nature. The colors are beautiful, being created by use of only natural dyes, produced from seeds or leaves. Following his demonstration, we looked over his carpets, and purchased a few of them, each one being folded into a small package, about the size of a Michener novel.

As we left the Dhourry carpet shop, we met a group of young ladies carrying bundles of tree limbs on their heads; each dressed more colorfully than the other. The bright red head coverings, being the only common color among them. We proceeded back up the road a few kilometers and entered through the gates of the Jain temple property. After some confusion regarding proper clothing, we finally were able to enter, meeting the Brahmin of the temple, a handsome young man of about twenty-five years, who would show us the temple. His name was Sandeep and he had been the Brahmin since he was twelve years old, which to me was quite impressive and astounding. His knowledge was extensive and to think this young man had been leading the prayers and worship since the age of twelve??? He explained the differences between the two sects of Jainism, and indicated that this sect was not as strict as the other, with respect to decoration and adornment. There were 1444 pillars which supported the roofs of the temple and each one is carved and no two are alike! The designer of the temple was a man who had a vision which corresponded to the patron, but who was illiterate, and had no formal schooling, but was able to nonetheless conceive the design and draw it out to a sufficient degree that the craftsmen could follow his plans and erect this magnificent edifice. Statue after statue of the god sitting in the lotus position were sheltered in niches throughout the temple, each one with adornment of the eyes, so it appeared in the light that the god was looking back at you! The simple yet ornate beauty was breathtaking. Once finishing our tour of the temple, we checked out the restrooms (this seems to be an ongoing study for our group!) we boarded the coach, bid farewell to Shakti and settled in for a ride of another few hours to our next destination – Siana.

By early evening, we arrived in the town of Siana – population of 10,000 – and were greeted by our host, Pradeep Singh. He had begun Siana Camps and Safaris a few years ago, and has two separate and distinct parts – the cottages (stone and marble condo-type units, complete with porch, sitting room, sleeping area and full bathroom and then the other part, where we would be staying for three nights. After being welcomed with garlands of marigolds placed around our necks, we had some refreshment and then piled into an open jeep, our bags placed into a trailer hauled behind the jeep, and departed from the cottages for a half-hour drive out into the dessert at the base of the Aisrana hills. Winding our way through the narrow streets and alleys, we eventually were moving further away from the town on roads which disappeared into sand dunes and scrub growth.

Arriving at the campsite, we got out of the jeep and each of us simply looked up at the magnificence of the heavens above, sparkling with the stars of night. We heard the sounds of distant birds and animals, dulled somewhat by the sound of the generator that was providing power for the two lights in each of our sleeping tents, and the two lights in the eating tent. A crackling campfire provided additional light, as well as warmth after the chilly ride. We were then all shown our accommodations – tents having two beds, two chairs, a small table and then a bath tent, connected to each sleeping area, containing a flush toilet, a platform with a makeshift shower (using the same apparatus as we have at our kitchen sinks at home for spraying dishes) and a sink. Behind each tent was a five gallon pail filled with water and propped up by a tree limb, to create a gravity feed for our water supply, either for flushing or for washing. The only thing missing seemed to be Joan’s hairdryer! “I HAVE to have my hairdryer!”

When we came back to the eating tent area, Pradeep said, “The first drink is on me, so what would you like?” Red wine seemed to be the choice of each of us, and we sat around the campfire, sipping red wine and enjoying some snacks of nuts. We then entered the eating tent, sat down for a delightful meal and shared some stories from the day and from other parts of our journey. Pradeep explained our itinerary for the following morning and we went to our tents, to get rest before our morning trek. Although we had not attended church, we certainly had been immersed in religion today.