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Published: March 5th 2016
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Today we are scheduled to take the scenic ride on the narrow gauge local train down through the Aravalli hills to the little town of Phuulud. We wake early and go to breakfast to find that most of the Germans have already finished. We reckon they have spent not much more than 12 hours in the palace before going off to do the rest of Rajasthan.
We decide to take the guide offered by the hotel for our train ride which turns out to be a good move. He is an engaging fellow who tells us his family has for generations served as barbers to the Royal family. These days he takes out the English visitors as needed. He takes us first to see the nearby lake next to the Rawat's current home near the hotel where he rapidly identifies and shows us various birds including several hornbills which are quite rare. Unfortunately we only have our short lenses on so photos are not realistic. Next we visit the Rawat’s collection of vintage cars. We are returning to the car when the Rawat comes up on his motorbike and screeching to a halt, introduces himself and inquires how we are
finding our humble lodgings in the palace. After an exchange of pleasantries and David showing suitable obeisance His Highness is off again to inspect his estates.
We meanwhile drive to the local station at Khambli Ghat. We have time to kill so our guide takes us for a walk through the local village. As we near the station, we pass a series of small square houses all bearing the sign ‘Abandoned’. Apparently they were homes for the railway workers until diesel replaced steam on the railway, meaning fewer people were needed. At the station, having bought our 45 rupee (45 pence) tickets, our guide takes us to meet Mr Yogi, the station superintendant. David is excited to discover that the small railway still uses the old ball system to ensure trains cannot run at the same time in opposite directions on the single line track. A small silver ball is handed to the driver of the train. No train can leave in the other direction until the ball has been ceded to them. We wait in the rising heat in the shade on the platform with a few other passengers, surveying the dusty scene. It reminds David of old
Westerns where people wait for days in the middle of some dry nowhere town waiting for the train to roll in. It arrives and stops for ten minutes, the chaiwallah goes up and down the train offering tea and a bored lady offers snacks through the windows. We settle down on slatted wooden benches, grateful that the journey is only for an hour and a half. Sara takes photos out of the window (no glass, just rusty bars which she pokes the camera lens through). David is braver and clutches onto the handle by the open doorway and hangs out, in an effort to get the best possible shot.
The train achieves nothing like its theoretical top speed of 90kph as we head off into the Aravali hills. The landscape is beautiful and deserted, until we shudder to a halt at the top of the hill. Why have we stopped? Our guide explains this is to allow the train’s brakes to be checked before we set off on the steepest part of the incline. As we wait, langur monkeys cluster around, and are rewarded by our guide throwing out biscuits he has bought especially for this purpose.
We
are sharing our carriage with a couple of men in turbans. They are keen to know all about us, and ask a series of questions translated by our guide. Where do we come from? What do we do? Do we have children, and if so how old are they? What crops are grown in England? What were your jobs before you retire? And most amusingly of all, what livestock do we keep personally in our home? They both seem disappointed we do not keep cattle inside our house.
Pramod our driver is waiting for us at the end of the line, and the journey back to the hotel takes considerably less time by road. We order a ‘light lunch’ of samosa s and pakoras which leaves us feeling stuffed. Time to review the day’s photos and engage in some serious editing.
More pictures below.
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