Mandawa & Bikaner: Rat Temples and bum rape avoidence.

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After Delhi we spent six lovely hours in a car with Sanjay (always a delight) and eventually we rocked up in a little town called Mandawa. It’s a bit of a nothing place really – more of a stop gap to break up the journey to Bikaner but I guess it was quite nice seeing a quiet town after the hecticness of Delhi and one more hour with Sanjay telling me I am sexy may have resulted in some sort of crash.

To be fair the drive ther was probably more interesting tha the actual destination. We saw everything from remote desert landscape to endless fields of yellow flowers to tiny little dust towns to a local Indian wedding. The wedding was surreal – the bride and groom were on horseback and surrounded by dancers and musicians as they made their way down a side street. Sanjay explained to us that the horses are then given to the brides parents as a gift – I guess as a gift for giving away their daughter – 241 bargain f you ask me.

As impressive as that was though I still think that the best thing I saw out of the car window was a little Indian man with a twirly wurly mustache and a turban just calmly walking down a busy side street with his packed luch on his head. He walked very calmly and perfectly upright with his empty hands down by his side. In his packed luch he had an apple and an Indian style cookie. This entertained me no end. I would LOVE to see London in rush hour with 50,000 business men all on the way to work with a packed lunch perched on their head. Genius really – extra hand space :p

Anyway, we arrived at Mandawa to find out we were staying in a refurbished Haveli. A haveli is a traditional fancy pants residence with a courtyard in the middle and lots of nice paintings covering the walls. Lovely. Over afternoon guide, however, was not. His name was Raj and he was very, veerrrrryyy dull. It didn’t help that we didn’t realy want a toured guide of the town and to add to the fact he then took us to his mates material shop where weal sat really awkwardly whilst his friend tried to sell us bits of cloth whilst Raj pretended to read a paper. The decisive moment when we realized we really didn’t like him was when he asked what Matt’s tattoo meant so I played him Mr Brightside on my I Pod. He bopped a long for about 15 seconds then gave it back and said in the most un enthusiastic of voices “it’s okay”. And after all our hard work of following him around about a hundred different havellis with the added bonus of two over enthusiastic German women that mentioned the football within the first 5 minutes of being in their company. We’d been through a lot for Raj – putting up with his mates shop, the constant sound of “oh JA, oh JA” ad his monotone description of the same five house – he could have at least shown the same enthusiasm when listening to a song as epic and culturally important as Mr Brightside. We decided to punish him by not returning to our hotel and insisting on hanging around the old town to find a cheaper dinner. He got his knickers in a twist about this and we felt our work was done until we realized the only thing to eat was a couple of dried up samosa that burnt everything from my mouth to my bumhole off. So I guess Raj was the real winner. Ho hum.

We did meet a rather interesting cow-man that taught us about the whollyness of cows. He wasn’t actually a cow man – although they do have those out here – he was just a nice man with an internet shop – an actual man-of-cow talking about cows would have been much ore impressive. Still they got me with twirly whirly mustaches carrying lunches on their head – you can’t wish for everything in one day!

After Mandawa we had another nice drive with Sanjay to Bikaner where Sanjay tried a new line: “you have beautiful eyes”. They get better every day.

Bikaner was pretty cool. It had a big forty-type thing called Junagarth Fort where we learnt about this cool Maharaja who helped us Brits out in the war and was a true vigilantly that fought all the way up to his death bed. We rewarded his effort with the ruins of two planes which he then had stuck back together to make one big one. Was pretty weird seeing a fighter plane in a palace. At least I think that was the story – I’m not 100% sure as me matt and dodds have realized after 4 days we have gone majorly over budget so we decided to share one audio guide between three of us. Obviously that is what was going to make us millionaires again. Problem was none of us wanted to be the listener so we sort of chatted through most of what was said and then shouted random words at the other two every so often, like “fort – very old” or “maharaja sad - died”. It was most informative!

After that we headed off to the place that we’d been gagging and dreading to see for the whole day. The Rat Temple. Now, when I say rat temple I don’t mean a temple in the shape of a rat, or with a picture of a rat or with a big statue of a rat god. I mean a temple…full of rats. They are literally running around your feet as you walk through and say your prayers. The proper pilgrims pray for a full and prosperous life. Me Matt and Dodds prayed for the strength not to scream out load and do the ‘there’s a rat on my foot’ hopping about dance. My palms have never been so sweaty. As we went towards it there were loads of devout Hindu’s bending down and kissing the threshold and I saw my first rat and literally squealed on the spot. After a strict telling off from Matt I calmed myself and tried to remember that I am bigger than the rats (although not all of them combined) and rigidly made my way in, holding on to Dodd’s equally sweaty palm with all my might.

Once inside there were large bowls of milk laid out on the floor that the rats were all circling and lapping at. Then a drum started up in a ominous beat and we followed the temple into a tunnel where the drum beats got louder. By this point we were sort of following a line of people around so we couldn’t turn back and it was then that I realized there were tunnels and holes at both foot and head height along the walls for the rats to run in and out of. And I though I had clenched my bum cheeks tightly in Delhi. Every step I took I just prayed that one wouldn’t run under my foot so I put it down on it. After what felt like a year we made it out the other side – but not before going through a gate with loads of rats at head height taking a nap on the bars. I am afraid that I was too scared crapping myself to remember to tae any pictures at this point so I hope this description is enough for you. Bottom line is – it scared the living crap out of me.

After we came out and regained a normal heart beat I managed to get some pictures of the outside as a nice local man explained to us that the rats were actually a lot less than they had been a few years ago. I had thought this as I’d seen the National Geographic episode when they go in and the floor is literally teeming with them like a moving carpet of rodents. Apparently they occurred there naturally so they will only let them continue to be there naturally so if they start leaving they don’t put more in. I guess it’s the local markets that have sprouted up giving an alternative food source.
Still a few hundred rats is enough for me. Those of you that know about my mouse experiences back home will appreciate what a big achievement this was :p

Although it was terrifying it was still a really serene place. There were pilgrims and people that had come from miles to visit as its al to do with a legend of a god. From what I remember There was a god who had a favorite storyteller who died, so he asked the Yatra, the god of death to bring him back to life from the underworld. Yattra refused so the other god got mad and made al future story tellers come back as rats so they didn’t have the souls that Yatra needed for the underworld. I still don’t get why that means there’s a temple thousands of people come to visit but I will do some reading and report back!

Anyway after this eye opening and pant-pissing experience we al went for a nice dinner. That’s where we met Ali – a local rich boy whose dad owned some posh fabric warehouse that exports to Europe. Ali helped us decipher our menu, get to an internet café and then got us in a tuk tuk to go home. When we got home tough the tuk tuk kept driving and took us to his house, which was admittedly just round the corner. He had his brother waiting and they wanted us to come in for Chi and a chat. Chi and a chat could transfer as rohypnol and a bum raping so we kindly declined but said we’d come back in the morning when it was light – cause people only get drugged and raped at night obviously.

Sadly when we came back the next morning no one was there (other than a weird man on the balcony that kept hiding when we looked up), so we marked it down as experience and left. Who knows – we could of had a lovely evening playing backgammon and learning about the locals or we could have ended up as real life wax dolls or taxidermists. I am happy to have never known. Although these annoying Norway girls (we cal them Norway) that keep rocking up at the same hotels as us (got to love a package tour) keep telling us about these amaaaazing local adventures they keep having, so it would have been nice to have given them the verbal finger with our night of crazy chi drinking / bum raping. Ho hum. I’m sure it will happen…the chi I mean, not the bum rape.

Anyway, that’s it for now.

Jasmine AsiaPants, over and out.

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Comments

[littlewing]

FANTASTIC !!!! :-)