Chittorgarh India
On the way out of town the next morning, I am not surprised to see a dead cow that had been hit by a car. “The government will come and pick it up for the hide, (an hopefully not the meat) the taxi driver says, but the owner will be saying “where is my cow…”
Our travel options to the city of Jaipur is overnight sleeper bus, overnight sleeper train or taxi by day. Since we wanted to see the village of Pushkar and the countryside we opted for the taxi. Big mistake! National highway number 8 from Mumbai to Delhi is a narrow two lane road with bumper to bumper trucks with “please blow the horn” on the back of every truck; we know that India’s commerce is alive and well. Requirements for vehicle registration include good brakes, good horn and good luck. (Not necessarily in that order.)
It is Sunday and motorcyclists with women in beautiful saris sitting sideways on the back are traveling 50 miles to a Jain temple for a special festival. We see big shiny aluminum pots lined up on stoves in roadside stands. We stop for tea and see garbanzos, dried green peas and lentils soaking-waiting to be cooked for the day’s meal in the evening.
I had assumed that the brand new Indian-made car would have A/C but unfortunately it doesn’t and soon I am very irritable. I forsake tea for a watermelon flavored Fanta. We sit on plastic woven beds with rusted metal frames provided for people for their afternoon tea and rest. Children riding by on their bikes laugh and wave. We don’t know what to make of the staring adults and laughing children…
The road to Cittorgarh was on a flat plateau and we see the Fort, our first destination, high on a hill. The driver drives so fast through the town it is hard to see anything. Lonely Planet says the Fort epitomises the whole “romantic doomed ideal of Rajput chivalry.”
Three times the Fort was sacked, the last time by the Mughal emperor, Akbar, and on each occasion “jauhar” was declared in the face of impossible odds: the men donned the saffron robes of martyrdom and rode out from the the Fort to certain death, while the women and children immolated themselves on a huge funeral pyre-the second time a whopping 32,000 men and 13,000 women losing their lives. Apparently, honour was more important than life for these people. Today the Fort is a ruins but about 5000 people still live within it’s confines.
Tags: Driving, Excursions, India, Rajasthan
Zoe