Last night several of us took up the invitation to have another home cooked meal. It was wonderful, the sky our roof, a low wooden table with a simple white cotton table cloth and some small glasses. There were bottles of water for each of us and a large bottle of chilled coke. We got up to meet our hostess, and check out her kitchen. Her daughter and she were dressed in brightly coloured saris and were busy making chapattis; forming a small piece of the dough into a small ball, then flattening it with a wooden rolling pin, a quick brush with vegetable oil on both sides then into the chapatti pan. It is sitting on a burning gas jet, once it’s sufficiently cooked, it’s tipped out then tossed the not the actual flames when it inflates like a balloon. Then into a shiny steel bowl with the other already prepared chapattis.

We resumed our seats and soon the pokhoras arrived; they are much smaller than in Australian settings, these were filled with green ( spring) onions. There was a mint dipping sauce as well. The mains arrived, the man of the house carried the cooking pot and spooned the dish inside. These dishes included; cabbage, potato and peas, sweet tomato, cauliflower, a spicy tomato chutney, a tiny succulent eggplant and a small bowl of dhal. There were also chapattis and puris. Each serve was small, but altogether it was a good size meal. For dessert, a bowl of kheer, a warm rice pudding flavoured with spices and cardamoms, and a more liquid presentation than what we would have at home.
Right now we are sitting in the bus to Jaipur after being ported from Pushkar by car this morning. I did not have a good impression of our last transit at Ajmer, but today as we descended from the pass in the Snake Mountains, the view was inspiring. The mountain range beyond the lake at Ajmer, was lit through with the dazzling sunlight of the Indian morning. Beneath them, the lake was all a silver sheen, mist hovering over the water obscuring the gap between sky and water. Pelicans rested on wooden poles lashed together to form rickety structures near the lake shore. A few powerboats rested in the water, motionless, near the island not far from the lake edge. It’s natural green colours contrasting with the broken gravel and motorbikes on the lake shore.
At the bus depot, Api gave us the option of paying an extra 100 rupees for the more luxurious bus to Jaipur. It is still a two hours trip but the expected heat of the later day makes air conditioning an excessively seductive option. 100 rupees appeared as if conjured from the air!

All the land is dry here, the temples, buildings and walls are sun bleached, washed out colours. Any wall painting even of a god, which bears substantial direct daylight is damaged with parts lost as irregular portions of cement shed in the heat. The trees here are desert trees, but here at least they have foliage. In the Thar and to the north, the trees had stunted lifeless branches fixed in unnatural poses. There are settlements along this highway, with large gates, splendid ostentatious constructions often more impressive then the hotels fifty meters behind them. The ground is a light dusky brown, with no vegetation at all, then we reach a farm, and it is bursting with growing millet from wall to wall of the enclosed area.

I am tempted to give a few impressions of India. Any ideas I express are not backed up with years of living and working in India. If you have the opportunity to talk with such a person, please give their opinions more weight than mine.
Friendliness, Jennifer and I have had the privilege to meet and talk with some wonderful people; the young bride in her blue sari at temple Shivatri, the Hindu teacher in the gondola, the beautiful mother in the alleys of Jaisalmer, the wheeler, dealer philosopher of cloth and life also in Jaisalmer, the young vendor in Pushkar, the helpful taxi drivers and others I am already forgetting in this whirlwind through India. Colour; this is the nation of vivid colour, from the red and orange daub on the foreheads, the glitteringly bright saris worn by even the poorest of women, the rich hues of the great forts, the gaudy, mirror light on tourist tat in the markets, the smoothly textured cream of the Jodhpur lassi, and the reds and blues and vermillion of the gods portrayed in their uncomfortable poses almost anywhere. Litter; Rajasthan varies from some litter to appalling levels of litter. It is mostly plastic, wrappings of boxes, food bags, bottles as well as scattered papers. We saw camels, grazing in an empty allotment not far from our hotel in Pushkar; these are used for camel safaris. Did I say empty, yes it was empty of any permanent building but it was far from empty, the thin animals wadded through ankle deep litter. Pushkar is definitely the worst for litter, even worse than Ajmer. The cleanest place was Jaisalmer by far. Scamming: Indians need to make a living and cannot always afford to be choosy about how to do it. Our scammers wear business suits, sit in large buildings and don’t pay tax. I think they do more damage to the average person in Australia than these petty scoundrels do to a tourist in India. It’s sensible to take security seriously, if for no other reason, than if you lose something it won’t come walking back to you.
Animals: camels are individualistic, tough creatures who pace out the desert sands and rocky grounds with a studied elegance; birds with black heads but re- orange band around their eyes scamper and sing along wall tops; cows, actually street cows, litter the streets, as feared for their inflicting of random injuries as they are venerated as the sacred animal of India. Architecture: the ancient stone works of forts, the delicate mesh work of windows, the crenelated Islamic inspired arches, and the utterly dilapidated top stories above the bustling markets and all of them hypnotically fascinating. Construction: everywhere you go, people are building things, hotels, roads, but then they stop, leaving it half built/ half demolished, it’s not clear which. Maybe the money or credit runs out or something better came along for the tradesmen, I don’t know.
That is enough impressions for now.

I am going to enjoy the bus ride and my banana.
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