A long time coming

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Sorry I havent written for a while, and I seem to have given up taking photos for a while too, but you can always check bob's blog for those!
So we got ourselves out of Varanasi, glory hallelujah! We were there for SO long, and although it was quite a nice place, in fact I think of it very fondly now, I was just utterly sick of it. We couldnt move on until bob was well, because he really wasnt in a good state. But finally, after the doctor gave him the all clear, and many many more pointless pills to take for the coming months, we booked our ticket out and went to the train station. Because we'd been there so long though it was one hell of a pack up, suddenly there were a million things to do, people to say goodbye to, things to pick up, but after an enocunter with an autorickshaw driver (he said something in Hindi to his mates after asking bob if I was his wife, and I"m sure it was extremely insulting, but when I took offense and stormed off, he went absolutely out of his way to apologise and be helpful) we were waiting on the train station platform. Now, I had waited patiently in Varanasi for Bob to become well - I was fine for the last 2 or 3 weeks of being there, and I was ready to go at the drop of a hat. But of course, the train was delayed, and there were no announcements to explain how long or why, and suddenly, at 11.30 at night, with all my heavy baggage, and all the earth staring at us, waiting for us to entertain, suddenly, I was blooming well ill wasnt i! I wont go into details, all was well in the end but it just seemed unfair!

Anyway, we arrived in Khajuraho after a 12 hour train and 3 hour jeep ride. Khajuraho is a combination of sleepy middle of nowhere town, and tourist central with erotic temples, a peculiar little place, and we've now been here for 9 days. Most people stay only a couple, just to see the temples and go. And to be honest, that's what this town is geared up for. We hired a couple of bikes on the first day and wandered off to the small sleepy temples in the surrounding villages, and then spent the entire next day from sunrise to sunset in the relaxing compound of the main temples. After that, of course, we got ill again!
Since then, we have had the best time though. The temples were really nice, and definitely worth seeing, because they're mainly a celebration of love - yes there's a few erotic scenes, in fact, some are pornagraphic, but mainly there are heavenly nymphs wiggling their hips at you and regal beautious men and women embracing in such warmth, its really quite beautiful.
But, like I said, then we had the best time. You see, I was starting to get really fed up with India, our mortgage rate has gone up, we dont have tenants yet in our house, and I couldnt help but feel like this trip was costing us an absolute fortune as a result, and yet mainly what we were getting back was cold stares and being ripped off. Yes I was moaning, and seeing only the negatives at that point but it felt like the positives were few and far between.
Yet just as we decided to damn well book our ticket out of the country, we went for one last cycle ride, and found ourselves out of the hassley areas and surrounded by warmth. The sun was shining, and children had stopped crowding round us shouting 'hello schoolpen' - instead, as bob rode ahead of me past a load of kids in school uniform, holding onto a cart being slowly pulled by a buffalo, there was cheering and amusement. They were so excited at seeing bob that they didnt notice me coming behind and my cheerful 'meep meep's were met with rising hysteria - they all started meeping and laughing and my heart started to soar. Yet again, we were seeing India away from the grabbing tourist areas and we were loving it. So on we went down the hot dusty path, and a few kms down, I heard faint 'hello's again - I looked over and across a field was a small child waving and her mother in a bright yellow sari beckoning us over. This felt so open hearted that we opened the gate and made our way in. We had been beckoned into the yard of a family who grow corn - the father cleared a space for us and ushered us to sit. We sat, beaming from ear to ear at our hosts who also beamed. Very little language was shared but we understood each other very very well. THey showed us around to their well, their cornfield, their home. There were chickens and dogs and 4 lovely children all around. It felt so idillic to us at that point, and we are pretty sure that this family are very happy there too.
They brought us chappattis, curry, sweets, water from their well, and then dressed me up in their jewellry. We stayed about an hour I think, and had such a lovely time, because at no point did we feel in any way like there was any greed. The whole family and us shared a wonderful afternoon and for that I am so grateful!
But that's not where it ended. The guy we hired the bikes from invited us to his house. Infact, he kept inviting us, but for some reason we didnt go until after this point and when we did, we again had a fantastic time. He and his wife took us there, through the village, over a wall, scrambling over a whole pile of rocks and into their yard. The family of 4 live in a one roomed house with a yard and a well. They told us that their well has been dry for 2 years however as there's been no rain so they get their water from another well in the village. Rokmari, the wife, made us some delicious chai, and then while we drank it we noticed she was shiny eyed looking on her shelves and back at me. Her daughter started looking too, as did another girl from the village who'd come to see us. Soon enough, my nails were being painted and I was having red powder sprinkled on my parting. This time I also had a lovely red and white pattern painted on my forehead where my parting ends and was dressed up in earrings and a necklace. I really rather like being a human doll it's a peculiar sort of female bonding that doesnt really happen in England!
Once the makeover was complete, and we were all laughing, some bangra came on on the small tv in the corner and I found myself bopping my head along with bob - again, much amusement followed and through the few common words we shared, we discovered that Rokmari's daughter was impressed. She ran off outside, and came back 5 minutes later in a beautiful red beaded skirt, blouse and scarf and spontaineously broke into a very impressive bollywood dance for us. It was especially impressive as I asked her to teach me and I plainly had no clue, not able to follow a single move. We tried to think up some English moves to share but of course dance in India is designed for performance so country dancing, waltzing and the charleston dont quite have the same effect!
The afternoon grew into evening and I found myself feeling completely at home. Hariki, the bike hire man kept saying that his home was our home, and I absolutely felt it. Rokmari made us fresh chappattis and curry and we laughed and laughed until it was time to go home again.
It was only afterwards, as I went to sleep in a blissful haze that I started thinking about just how special that afternoon had been. There have been so many times where we have thought we were being shown generosity, when people would turn round and demand things, or try to manipulate our emotions (like when a man lied about being bitten by a rabied dog to get bob to give him money). There had been no sob stories from Hariki though, far from it, and I hadnt felt anything other than respect and happiness in his family's company. The biggest thing I worried about though was their well. I hadnt really noticed at first, but as I got off my bike at our hotel and had a wash, I realised that while they had no well water, even washing was a luxury, and there was quite a difference I supposed between the fancy dancing clothes that their daughter put on, and her usual dress which although washed, was not as clean as it would have been if their well was filled.
We were invited back the next evening to try Rokmari's delicious pakora, and again a wonderful evening ensued. This time, we brought the camera, and I was dressed up again in one of Rokmari's saris so that the three women would all look similar. Hariki doesnt yet have an email address, but he has promised to set one up and email us because we really want to send him the photos. He was such a lovely man, bashful, happy and barely even accepted his rightful payment for the bike hire when we left. I am really sad to know that I probably wont see them again.

We woke up the day we were leaving though and the skies were filled with rain. Apparently north india doesnt experience this much rain even in the monsoon. Everyone is joyous, crops are watered at last, and of course the wells are again filling up.

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Photos

Bob and Hariki
The two husbands! If you ever find yourself in Khajuraho needing a bike - find this man! he's next door to the Zen hotel and is the friendliest man in the town!

Rokmari
Rokmari making pakora in her outdoor wok. This one works better than the gas one that Hariki was fixing, because it gets much hotter apparently.

Rokmari dressing me in her sari
This is one of bob's photos, there's a few more from this day on his blog if you want to see some more...