Bundi

  Bundi, Rajasthan, India
Friday, January 16, 2009

The road to Bundi is a bit less travelled and it was with trepidation that we booked a sleeper bus. My memories of bus travel in India are less than great and I was loath to break our continuous train journey. As I've noted though, the trains were beginning to shit me. What the hell, a sleeper bus can't be too bad can it?

It looked good on arrival but when we boarded - a scrum in itself - we found that our packs had to reside in the little compartment with us. It was like a coffin - albeit a coffin with curtains. As we set off I was convinced that I would not sleep. To my surprise, the road out of Udaipur was good. Two lane freeway and all. Maybe the ride wouldn't be so bad after all. Tara promptly fell asleep as I lay there staring out the coffin window.

The freeway didn't last - I knew it was too good to be true. The only saviour was that we couldn't see out of the front. India's bus drivers are all insane and watching what is on the road in front only worsens the fear. The rocking, lurching motion of the bus kept me awake and when I finally slept - during a pitstop for chai - Tara needed to get out and had to wake me.

We arrived in Bundi at four thirty in the morning. Lo and behold our last host has called ahead, unbeknowst to us, and a guest house owner is there to greet us! Despite the fact that we have booked somewhere else, we go to his place for the morning to try to sleep before checking in at the flash Haveli Katkoun.

Haveli's are a kind of Indian mansion. Built by the rich in the old days, they all follow similar design: a central courtyard with open space, the rooms encircling it. We have visited a couple of really grand ones, the guest house versions are often fakes though, imitating the style to suit a hotels needs.

We go to check out the palace first and although I'm suffering palace/fort overload Bundi's still impresses. The fort containing the palace towers over Bundi but unlike the others we've seen, this one is really a ruin. It's uninhabited and not maintained well. The whole thing has a wild sort of feeling to it, added to by the rampaging monkeys. Everywhere we go the locals have their own technique for dealing with them: stick, slingshot, you name it. And it may sound brutal but they're aggressive little fuckers. You've gotta watch the red arsed males. I lock eyes with one at a temple and it lunges at me threateningly, stopping centimetres from my face. That was the last time I looked deliberately at one of the males. Like dogs, I think they take direct eye contact as a challenge.

When we finally venture up to the taragarh - the star fort - two enterprising young scaliwags warn us "two girls attacked by monkeys this morning" hoping we'll employ them to protect us. I'm not convinced these two young blokes can do any better than the big stick i decide to carry though, sorry boys. It turned out that not a single monkey gave us trouble up there, but they certainly run the joint.
The palace is a grand ruin. There is some amazing wall paintings, many depicting Krishna in various scenes. One shows a tree with womens' clothing hanging in it like fruit. Krishna has placed it there to tease the women who reach for their sari's, without luck, after bathing. I think this is supposed to illustrate Krishna's "playfulness". I reckon he was just a perve, which is what Tara calls me when I point out the unnatural perkiness of the womens' breasts in the paintings.

Bundi turns out to be a great antidote to the negativity Udaipur inspired. The town is friendly, free of touts and the streets are relatively quiet. It feels positively laid back. There's plenty for us to explore too. We decide to hire a moped from a friendly entrepreneur called Romeo, who will provide his "tour map" to explore the surrounding countryside. We set out on our steed to the "big waterfall" enjoying the feeling of freedom your own transport gives.

On arrival at the waterfall we are mobbed by young males keen to have their photos taken. We indulge them for a while but it starts to get a bit crazy - I think they were quite taken with Tara. In the end we have to escape: no more bloody photos! A couple of the older guys at the top are with their families and tell us to follow them to another sight. We can't quite work out what it is but follow anyway. Turns out to be a large dam about a kilometre away. The water is mostly gone but there are fishermen dragging tons of fish out of the remaining water and bagging them for market. 




We have some amusing interaction with the people we've met who speak little english. This culminates with one of the young studs showing me some human/animal porn on his mobile phone! Shit, just like being back at Lavo! The boys try to communicate but it is mostly them laughing at me and me laughing at them laughing at me. The women don't say much and it's not until the husband of one prompts her that she tries a conversation with Tara. It's a fun afternoon though. We race each other back to Bundi on the bikes - they've got three on each! 

Riding through the countryside, just like in Pushkar, is a great way to see stuff you'll never see staying in the towns. People are always friendly and everyone waves. Stopping in a village is always bound to draw a crowd. As Romeo put it, it's "hollywood"!

We leave Bundi having loved the place. Bus to Kota then train to Mumbai. Our train to Mumbai is a slick express in AC3 class and is on time and inexplicably arrives on time - fuck me!