Rajasthan 8 - Where is the Village?

So it was decided. Transport was found. Prices were fixed. Dress-code was picked.

And thus it began. The village adventure.

At the very border of the not particularly small Guda-Bishnoi village we were greeted by an old lady.

“Jao toh dhyan se rehna”

The greeting came as a warning. And I wondered how many people it had already warned.

Much to our relief, a middle-aged man took us to his home.

Ah! Now that was perfect. A hand-crafted roof, earthen boundaries, a hand-pump tucked away in a corner. An old woman choking up to cook a meal.

My friend made sincerely felt but terribly distant enquiries about education, life and the difficulties of their life. All I wanted to do was look around, see how the food was being cooked, look at the freshly arrived farm produce but most of all, operate the hand pump.

The family showed us around, smiled constantly, answered our questions with enthusiasm, told us some stories and served us lunch. Until that point in time, I was not aware that parts of cacti were cooked and eaten as dry vegetables, that sour curd made for healthy gravy and that home-made ghee could be surprisingly delicious. We ate spoonfuls after spoonfuls of it, accompanied with chewy ‘bajra rotis’.

As my palate relished the rustic meal, my mind wandered.“How must it be, to live disconnected, in a world so different from the one outside.” I was creating images of a pure life, sufficient and satisfied.

However, those ideas did not get a fair chance. It was getting late and we had to get back before sunset. We prepared to leave, not without some pictures with members of the family. And the pictures were clicked. In different settings. With different combinations of people.

It sure was worth recording the ‘village’ that had matched the descriptions in our minds.

And as I was dreaming over the camera, our host said,

"Aap mera e-mail le lo, mujhe photo e-mail karna!"