Bikaner and the Zoologist

On the way out of Rajasthan towards New Delhi, I stopped for a couple of nights in Bikaner, a desert town and less touristy choice for a camel safari than the famed Jaisalmer, which, more or less, borders Pakistan.  I arrived in town and was whisked away from the station in a rickshaw driven by Bhanu, a middle aged handsome and slick fellow who after telling him I wanted to go to Vinayak guest house suggested his friend's (which is totally typical and to be expected)  I said, fine, let's check out your pal's place and if it's not to my liking we'll go to Vinayak.  The place he took me to was actually really nice and very clean, but had no common area, or other travellers for that matter, which is a top priority for me, as a large part of the reason I like travelling is meeting nice people!  Anyhow, I told him to take me to Vinayak and found it to be slightly more expensive and not as nice, but with common area and it's listed in the guidebook which means, higher likelihood of other travelers! All very interesting, I know, but I'm explaining this all for a reason, soon to be revealed.

The host of the guest house was a nice lady about my age who told me that her husband, who would be home later, was getting his PhD in zoology and the she has a master's in chemistry.  Genuine Indian Scientists!  Cool, I said.  If I have any chemical questions you will be the first to know.  I was served my dinner by the husband, Jitu who drew me a diagram of tomorrow's events (first we go here, then we go here, then we do this, etc.) with the 2 Dutch gals who were also staying there which included a desert plant walk (!), desert animal "safari" (!) and camel ride (eh).  I told him I was totes down for the first two and that I'd go back to town with him in his little hatchback after the first 2 events.  This was all for the low low price of $14.  Not bad, eh?

The next morning I went out for my breakfast to find the 2 Dutch gals at the table.  Turns out they were in the hotel room right next to mine in Udaipur and had been real friendly there.  They, again, were real friendly and we got on swimmingly.  We hopped in the car with Jitu, who referred to me as sir and the gals as madam which I thought was quite unnecessary.  We drove out to the desert and he asked if any of us were English to which we replied we were not and JItu explained that all the acacia that we saw blanketing the desert was an invasive plant brought by the British which was ruining the local ecosystem.  He said it was useless for humans, but I'm pretty sure it's got all types of uses (medicinal, food, gum arabic, etc.) but perhaps this one is another species that is in fact useless.  He then explained that if we were British, he's have avoided the topic so as not to offend us and possibly impact his struggling business.

As he drove, Jitu also explained to us how the hotel and safari racket worked in Bikaner.  Being from the caste just above the untouchables -- highest being Brahmin, second highest Rajput, Jitu's caste which was broken into 4 groups of merchants, tradesmen, farmers, and gardeners (he was from the {lowest} gardener's caste, but was still able to get a PhD), then Untouchables who clean sewers, streets, whatever- Jitu's guest house was constantly being screwed over by the Rajput owned guesthouses who would write bad reviews on the web and bribe the camel keepers to bar him from obtaining camels for his guests, thusly making it extremely difficult to promise a profitable camel safari.  He said castism was rampant in 2K13.  He told me that the Rajput guesthouses paid the rickshaw drivers a commission to bring people to their guesthouses and talk shit about his. The place the driver took me to was a new Rajput owned guesthouse.  He didn't want to get into the commission-paying game because it had so hurt him. I guess I did the charitable thing staying at Vinayak.

He said he couldn't get his dream job of forest ranger because his last name betrayed him and informed the Rajput or Brahmin who was in charge of hiring that he was from the lowly gardener caste, regardless of qualification.  He also couldn't leave town and move to a bigger city with more jobs because he was the only son and had to stay home and take care of his aging parents, grandparents, and the family guest house, which he never imagined himself running (implying that he was too good for such work). Instead of Chemistrying it up, his highly educated wife was stuck making chipattis.  His sister was a medical doctor who taught at the medical school in town.  She studied what was lucrative, he studied what he loved, he said.

 We pulled to the side of the road and hopped out to check out a bunch of other plants then got back into the car and were whisked off to the animal safari part of the tour.  We'd stop periodically to look through Jitu's binoculars at birds maxxing on the road side.  We drove into the desert towards a camel march of a hundred or so camels. We got out and took pictures and looked at birds of prey and scavengers circling high above.  We were sirred and madammed back into the car were off to the big desert field where, it was explained to us, that the cattle that you see in the city, when dead, are dragged off to this site where the Untouchables who lived here would skin the corpses and let them get picked clean by the hundreds and hundreds of vultures, kites, eagles, condors, buzzards, etc, all of which were fucking massive and awe inspiring.  He pointed out plastic mounds that were left alongside the bone heaps which were the impacted and cumulative plastic that the cattle had eaten during their, I can only assume, miserable lives.  Then the bones were collected by the Untouchables and taken to a factory where they were ground into industrial powder for all occasions.  We took photos from the safety of the car for the many dogs that roamed around were made aggressive by all the meat consumption and we had nary a weapon betwixt the 4 of us.  Jitu constantly reminded us to write a good review for him so "maybe I get a job," as working on a camel farm and giving tours to the few tourists who came through his guest house wasn't enough to support his clan.

Then we drove to the village where lived the camels the gals would ride for the afternoon where we got a little tour led by Jitu who explained how these "primitive" people lived in their dung and mud homes that stayed cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  It was awkward being the whities touring real people's lives as they lived them.  Then the gals got up on their camles which were led by a father and his son and Jitu went off to pay the camel chief for the rides.  I was left with the young men of the clan and we leaned on an empty water tank and I did my best to make halting small talk which consisted of the usual, what is your name, where are you from, do you like camels.  Then Jitu returned and we drove back to Bikaner stopping on the way at a recently-built Hindu temple for the entire family of gigantic colorful cartoonish statues of Hanuman, Shiva, and more which was free to enter.  He said it was built to get the children involved and interested in Hinduism which reminded me of the conversation the Swami has over tea with a British priest in the movie "Help!" which I assume you have seen, or if you have not, will do so immediately following this reading:

"Clang: Oh, goodness me. Sex is creeping in. It’s being thrown at youth. They see it everywhere, in the bazaars, in the market places, in the temple, even. Can you wonder they turn up their noses at a mystical impulse? We are taking up fox hunting so the young people can be involved in their own sacrifices, and will understand the deep significance of blood well shed. Of course, I don’t expect you to see eye to eye with me, but I’m sure we can agree to differ."

Maybe I'm reaching. 

Back in Bikaner, I headed out to the fort, which is the only attraction in town, which was like most other forts.  As I left I was followed into a small street by a guy in his 20s who greeted me and 2 friends of his on motocycle (one of whom complimented me n my beard) and another guy on foot.  Ahh, the ol' follow the westerner into the alley and compliment his beard trick.  Immediately I turned around and started walking out back to the main road as the guy who approached me asked where I was from and where I was going to which I replied,

"Don't worry about it."  

Where are you staying?  

"Don't worry about it!" Then I asked him if he had a hotel or restaurant to which he replied, 

"no, I have a drawing shop and I just want to talk with an American.  I'm on holiday."  

"So you have nothing to sell me?"  and he got kinda offended and I was all, 

"well, have a great day. I gotta jet."  

"But where are you going my friend?"

"Dude, seriously, don't worry about it!"  

"Go to hell," he cursed then he walked away, back to his friends who had followed us out onto the main road.  I was really surprised that he got pissed off since I didn't actually tell him to fuck off and besides, it's par for the course to annoy the hell out of tourists until they walk away quickly.    

I could have been totally off base and maybe the dude really just wanted to hang out, but I was thinking I should have said to him, "Hey.  Imagine you're in my country and you turn into a small street and 4 American dudes follow you, speaking good Hindi, and want to know where you're going and what you're doing, you're gonna get the fuck out of there.   Change your approach pal and tell your homie not to mention my fucking beard.  It sounds really weird."   Cultural diffs, perhaps.  India will test your boundaries.    

Put that in your overqualified SkullBong and smoke it.