DOES INDIA REALLY EVER SLEEP? (Feb. 5)

It really does not matter when you might choose to go to sleep; someone or something is always awake. After the campfire dinner at Tiger Moon in Ranthambore, we retired to the sounds of the jungle – warning calls from monkeys or spotted deer, letting us know their might be a hyena on the loose; distant calls from temples or mosques, calling the faithful to prayer at all hours of the day and night; horns blaring, whether or not there are people or cars or camels or cows or water buffaloes in the way, and without necessarily paying heed to distance; cows mooing; goats braying; or the almost-but-not-quite silent undercurrent of muffled voices of work staff; there is nearly always sound.

We awoke on Thursday morning, knowing we had to have our bags on the porch for the porters to bring to the bus and that if we were going to have breakfast, it would be early. Sleepy-eyed and not too bushy-tailed, we strolled to the dining building where the staff looked as though they had been working for hours to prepare breakfast for us. Whether we preferred omelets to order, with juices and fresh fruits or porridge or iddlies with dhal, we did not want for much. Then it was one last pit stop in our rooms or tents, before boarding the bus for our next chapter.

Suresh and Ragu welcomed us with their usual smiling faces, and we trundled through the village of Ranthambore, and on out to the highway toward Jaipur. This would be another longer ride of about five or six hours before we would reach our destination. We were going to be staying at Samode Bagh – a lovely resort complex, located not too far from Jaipur, but out in the countryside. The property itself is a havelli or summer palace for one of the maharajas, and bagh translates to garden. So roughly translated, the hotel is located in and around the summer palace, and boasts magnificent gardens. We were set to arrive sometime after one o’clock in the afternoon. When we did turn off the highway and wend our way down country lanes, we saw signage announcing Samode Palace and Samode Bagh. However, each drive Suresh turned down seemed to be the wrong one. We kept stopping before we hit a total dead end on three different roads. Finally, we realized Suresh was turning INTO a school playground area, driving straight on through! Believe it or not, he proceeded onward, turning onto a short drive and then stopped the bus. We got off the bus and were welcomed at the main entrance of Samode Bagh (not your typical grand entrance). Almost like stepping through Alice’s looking glass, we entered through a gate, only to be greeted by blaring trumpets and showered with thousands of rose and marigold petals, being tossed from above by two young men on the roof of the gate. What a welcome!

We walked along the raised pathway that lead us through beautiful gardens of varieties of flourishing plants. Reaching the reception area, which is housed in a tent-style building on a raised platform in the middle of the central garden area, we were handed cool damp face towels to wipe the dusty grime from our faces and hands, as well as glasses of cool fruit juices. Pallavi assigned us to our tents and the porters carried our bags, trailing behind us through the gardens to our home away from home. And such a home it was… tents with covered porches in the front, with two comfortable chairs and a side table; colorful yet calming painted designs on the interior walls, dressing rooms with more than adequate space for luggage, closet, coffee bar and a large window offering a closed garden area; and finally the Italian green marble floor of the bathroom with white marble tiled walls and shower area. Now THIS was living! Within moments of our check-in, two members of the team were already sitting at the desk where two computers were offered for wireless access to guests. This was not your typical business center, either, appearing more like a grand reception hall than a four-walls-of-glass cubicle. Just off to the left of that room was a beautiful swimming pool with white, cobalt blue and bright yellow tiles, filled to the brim with shimmering water, inviting us to enjoy respite or a brief dip. As it turns out, lunch was served shortly after our arrival, under tents in yet another garden. A wide range of veg and non-veg dishes to meet anyone’s palate were spread on a long buffet table, including black currant mousse for dessert. A few days before reaching Samode, I had asked Pallavi to check on the cost and the availability of camel rides through the village. During lunch, she told us the cost and the approximate duration of such a trip, and although some members initially said they would rather lounge around at the pool or in chairs in and around the gardens, in the end, we all indicated we would be ready in a half-hour for our attempt at Lawrence of Arabia…

We gathered at a side gate to meet our camel drivers and the drooling, slobbering, snorting, belching beasts of the desert. Colorful saddle blankets and shaved flanks and rumps presented quite an image. It was decided by the drivers who would ride which camels. They urged the beasts to lower themselves to the ground; we mounted our rides and then hung on for dear life as they once again returned to standing position. It was sort of like riding one of the bucking bronco machines we have seen in western movies, but in slow motion. Kim’s camel was wearing a muzzle but still managed to slobber and spit huge amounts of foam on the ground and to shake its head to spray some foamy saliva on anyone within ten feet. We sauntered along the road and then dusty paths, eventually reaching tiny pockets of buildings in the village. We passed by other untethered female camels with their babies, lunching on low-hanging branches of neem trees and almond trees. All of the riding camels are males, we were told, but with no further explanation. Children in distant houses called and waved to us, and local young men seemed to walk alongside of each of us, speaking very good English, and telling us about themselves. There was a method in their madness, as we would later learn. As we continued through narrow streets in the village, more children came near to us and called and waved, while older men and some women also smiled and waved. By the time we reached the Bagh, I think we were all ready for a few hours of relaxation and a nice hot (did I say HOT?) shower before leaving for dinner. We were not able to get down from our four-legged taxis and immediately enter the resort. Nay, nay… we had to be subjected to the high-pressure sales pitches of eight or ten young men who miraculously produced their paintings, both on silk and on pages of antiqued paper. It was amazing to me to hear that each one had a grandfather who had been a painter, followed by a father and then themselves and their brothers. It was also rather curious that each had almost identical paintings to the others, but they were all “originals”. Most of us were able to walk away unscathed, and returned to our abodes for R & B (and that is not Rhythm and Blues, but rather RELAXATION AND BATH!

At a pre-decided time, we met near the registration area to then walk to our bus to have Suresh and Ragu drive us up to Samode Palace, where we would be dining that evening. Pallavi and I had visited the palace in years past, but it was still the spectacular yellow building complex, perched on a promontory, standing majestically to welcome new friends. We took photos from the bottom of the grand staircase, thanking the bellman for turning on the strings of tiny lights that outlined the entire face of the main palace building.

Ascending the red-carpeted staircase, we entered one courtyard, and met a gentleman who was there to take us on an abbreviated tour of the palace. Following the tour, we returned to a second courtyard, where Rajasthani puppeteers were waiting to share their talents with us. We sat for a short performance and then walked back to the terrace for a starlit dinner. As we gazed heavenward, the moon was perfectly positioned overhead, with the MIR space capsule having drifted off to the side from previous sightings at the farm.

The buffet of starters would have been more than adequate for me, but like the rest of the team, I also enjoyed several entrée selections. After enjoying a most relaxing and delicious dinner, we returned to the bus and the ride back to our fairy tale existence, quietly hoping this did NOT have to end in the morning. I tried to read for a while, but was unsuccessful after about a half-page, so turned off the lights and drifted into a deep sleep.