In the Cool of the Night

Saturday 15 November 2008
Pushkar

So I wake up for a shower before the camel ride and there's no hot water. A similarly common theme on this trip. I decide to deal with it later and head out on a camel. It's a bit cold but no too bad so I wear just a t-shirt. That turns out to be a mistake.

So my camel driver is a 17 year-old who turns out to be another Raj – my fourth so far it seems. We stop for what I take to be breakfast, there's always a random element to these things, but later I realise is just a tea stop. We walk for a while and I'm still tired so only have a brief conversation with Raj. Turns out the camel's name is Tony, though it could well be Dhoni but I don't go so far as to ask how it's spelt. It's a three year old so fairly small for a camel. But there's a break in the conversation and after a bit of silence he Raj starts singing some random Indian songs which suits the pre-dawn atmosphere very well.

We stop on a small mount and wait for the sun to come up. While we're there I show Raj some pictures of my travels on my phone. I'm not sure he fully appreciates which countries I've been to or what the images are, but the picture of me with a girl in Bed Supperclub seems to earn his respect. While we're waiting for the sun quite a big wind blows up and it gets pretty cold. We hide behind Tony for a bit but it doesn't help much.

The sun comes up nice and quickly over the mountains but it's not quite the life-affirming sight that it is commonly thought to be. In fact of all the sunrises I've seen, I've only thought a couple were any good. Frankly, I don't see what all the fuss is about.

Anyway after that we head off and meet up with a sort of camp – well, two tents, one of which has blown over in the winds overnight. The occupants of that tent are John and Bruno, two guys from Lisbon. I chat a bit with them. John has a leg missing from a motorcycle accident, but I don't ask for the gory details. It's here that I'm offered breakfast, but it's only the pitta / pancake crossover thing that is the standard breakfast fare here and I only go for one.

After that we split up again and end up on a bit of uninspiring scrub land where I think a few kids were supposed to play music to me (and then get a tip), but I ask them not to so we end up just waiting there for a while. I do get to see Tony chewing the cud though which is an amusing sight – for me at least.

You hear a long sound like a cross between burp and a gurgle and you actually see a sizeable lump pass up the bottom of its long neck, 'til it reaches its mouth. Then it chews, emitting a teeth-grinding noise for a minute or two, until it swallows it again with a long gulping noise. It's pure comedy.

We then head back to Pushkar through uninspiring scrub land and settlements covered in rubbish. Boy do they love their rubbish here. No one gives a shit. I've formed a theory that the only people who are allowed to clear up are the Untouchable class – the lowest of the low – with the result that no one cleans up at all, ironically condemning everyone to a life of wading through shit. Or alternatively, no one gives a damn and that's just the way it is. It's probably the same in the favelas of Brazil or the townships of South Africa, but I'd hope that in the centres of their towns they make a bit more of an effort than the Indians. I guess I'll have to go and find out for myself.

Back at the hotel and it seems I have a cold. Should have brought a jacket on that trip. Oh well, never mind.

I chill out for the rest of the day. I pop into the main Brahmin temple and take a photo before I see a sign saying I shouldn't, but to be honest the temple isn't up to much. I go back to the main market and buy Raj a pair of sunglasses as he asked if he could have mine earlier (he couldn't) and it will help cover his eye.

I chill out and read my book. By the time evening comes Raj and his uncle (who apparently I've met before – it wasn't the one in Jaipur – but I don't recognise him) are sitting in a car drinking whiskey (remember, you can't buy alcohol in this town) and invite me in. I join them but only sip a bit of whiskey myself – I am ill after all. I ask Raj why he's drinking, given that he swore never to drink again after what happened in Jaipur, and he tells me that he's making an exception as his uncle's here. Are you allowed an exception on a life-long promise after two days I wonder? It's not as though it's a problem for me though as I prefer Raj when he's drunk. I also find out that Raj's real name is Narinder, which he doesn't use as foreigners find it hard to say. Not me I guess.

Plenty of whiskeys for the Singh family later, his uncle drives off to meet his girlfriend (he's married) and Raj and I order some food. I want it hot to ease my cold, but surprisingly it comes out only a twinge hotter than normal. So we order a side of chillies to go with it. It does the job partially but not as well as I'd hoped.

After that I head to bed early as I'm tired and ill. And, godammit, I need a good night's sleep!