Riding in Rajasthan

Karen Mort, AMC Recruitment Director, recounts her adventures on a recent trip to Rajasthan

On arrival I experienced my first demonstration of driving, Indian style! “Horn please”, “Use dipper at night!” – No truck driver would dare to venture on the road without these instructions painted in bright colours on the back of his vehicle. I quickly understood the perils of driving in this chaotic environment, where only three skills are needed to take to the road; a good horn, good brakes and good luck! Animals, pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, cars and trucks fight for supremacy; the winners are the sacred cows that are aware of their status as a potentially reincarnated family relative and stand or sleep at strategic points in the system. In the absence of any lane discipline, they cause mayhem but fail to slow the traffic as it competes for a right of way. Time to close my eyes!

The riding is fast, in deepest, rural Rajasthan, between the palaces of the Maharajas. We stay in the richly decorated and gilded Havelas that were once the homes of Merchants and the Forts of the Rajputs (the descendants of Warriors). The Forts and their Warrior Ancestors still command respect, perched on hilltops or at the centre of towns they echo memories of a time when their Masters owned all that they could see from the painted towers and parapets.

When the appeal of the polo field waned, Elephant Polo was introduced for light relief! Who would have guessed that it would be welcomed; one player rides the elephant while the other wields the stick. If the elephant stands on the ball it is squashed in to the pink dust that seems to pass for a polo field and lost from play. We visit the ‘Amber Fort’ riding an elephant, a long, slow, comfortable rolling gate but one that reminds you it’s a hell of a way down.

In the fields, camels pull carts and plough fields, water buffalo flee at the sight of the Mawari horses we’re on board, flying effortlessly over the drying peanut and millet plants following their harvest. The horses are fast, and in history they are known as a cavalry horse noted for loyalty and bravery in battle. As we ride through the villages we are a source of amusement, children from all directions run to look at the ‘Gura on Gurla’ (roughly translated means whites on horses), how strange it feels.

After the riding we wake before sunrise to catch sight of the Taj Mahal. This 17^th century mausoleum in snow white marble, bejewelled in semi-precious stones, rises out of the mist, its mystic qualities enhanced by the early morning sunshine and soft light. The only way to view this marvel of architecture is to sit, silently, and watch the changing colours and tranquillity it imparts as the sun accelerates the searing heat that dries everything.

Our visit concludes with time in the Middle Himalayan Mountains. We take the World Heritage Site train up the mountain, 128 tunnels and over 900 bends. By the end of the journey we’re exhausted but the views are spectacular and the appeal of the narrow gauge rail track continues to amuse. After five hours of hooting and the screams of the children each time the little train passes through a tunnel, Shimla appears on the horizon. The summer seat of Government for the British. Here the air is clean and crisp. Pine trees and houses cling to the mountain sides and the British Viceroys Lodge towers in spectacular elegance above the town. How wonderful the ‘Balls’ must have been, a dining table to seat 70 and cedar panelled walls.