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The One-Horned Rhinos of Kaziranga National Park.
This Unesco World Heritage Site is set in spectacular scenery and is professionally run, without any fuss. Please believe the hype and take an elephant safari. It's a humbling experience to ride these stoical and patient relics from prehistory. You'll see plenty of rhinos as you pass through the elephant grass swampland, and if you're very lucky you may see some of the fifteen species of India's most threatened mammals. We saw wild elephants, several dear species and fantastic birds, but you could see fish eagles, hornbills, King Cobras, tigers, bears, leopards, or more.
We stayed in pristine huts with new kids on the block, the Nature Hunt Eco Camp. Superb.
www.worldheritagekaziranga.com
naturehunttours.com
Kaziranga National Park & Tiger Reserve
Bokakhat – 785 612
Golaghat
Assam, India
Telephone: +91-3776-268095
Google map: bit.ly/z8MT8D
Peaceful and remote Majuli Island (the largest riverine island in the world) is home to many endangered birds, and an important wetland in Assam. The 'Mising' tribe, a subsistence farming community, lives here in simple bamboo and palm leaf houses built on stilts.
For a tranquil stay away from India's hustle and bustle, rent a room in one of the Assamese neo-Vaisnavite monasteries which dot the island.
(Not to be confused with Ali G's "Me Julie")
Get the ferry from Jorhat. If travelling with a driver and car ensure the driver books the ferry well in advance, it only takes three cars.
Google map: bit.ly/xnLFXy
When all that you want in life is a tasty paratha and a strong sweet chai to propel you along on your rented bicycle, you realise you must be on the right track. Once a capital city of ancient kings, Orchha is now a tiny village bursting with architectural gems of palaces and temples. Take time out to explore the quietly magnificent sights, breath in the pure rural air, and just let your mind wander with you. We only have so much time to stop and stare, so make sure you take some time out for yourself in such a mesmerising place. Who knows where your thoughts could take you.
Google map: bit.ly/wGiSar
I went on a camel trek in the Thar Desert with Vijay and proposed to my now wife on a sand dune at sunset. The orange and purple hues, the desert music, the camp fire, the local food were the breathtaking backdrop for a perfect moment in time. Vijay's camel trek is at the heart of 'Incredible India'
www.camelman.com
Vijay Guesthouse
Jaipur Road, Bikaner, 334005, Rajasthan
+91-151-2231244
It's not always easy to find authentic food if you are with a tour group, or staying in hotels in India. All too often they try to pander to what they think 'westerners' want to eat.
If we're on a road trip with a driver, we always ask him (invariably it's a him in India) where he eats. In Munnar he took us to the unfortunately-named “Roachas”. It is not in any tourist guide, and a Google search reveals nothing but my own entries in my blog. But Munnar is not a big place, and all I remember is that it is at the end of one of the roads leading out of town.
It's a large rectangular, functional caff, with few frills. But it is clean and airy. It was full of other drivers and local people when we went there. The big plus here is that it serves really good Keralan food. We had a fantastic fish supper of Meen Moilee (black fish from the backwaters, cooked in a cocunut curry sauce) and enjoyed a very tasty biryani lunch there too for less than a quid each.
One of the at the end of one of the roads leading out of Munnar. Big, set back, car park, well sign-posted.
Located in one of the many cardamom plantations that cling to the side of the higher slopes, our hotel grandly calls itself “Olive Brook: Republic of Nature”. It sat up a one in three climb just off the only road running along the valley and consisted of six bungalows overlooking a colourful and well-maintained garden. Good start.
As is the norm in India, every car that approaches a bend beeps its horn. Loudly. Several times. There are bends either side of our hotel. Not so good. Contrary to expectations, however, we were not kept awake all night by frantic horn blowing as it turns out everyone retires to bed early in these parts, and since the road takes you nowhere but to other hotels it was virtually deserted after 9:30pm. Phew.
Our bungalow was vast. We had a front sitting area and an inner sanctum home to a huge double bed and an even bigger bathroom. The rooms were spotless, with a comfortable bed and hot running water. Each night we sat on our veranda, sipping beer and unusual (i.e rubbish) local wine, listening to the sounds of the jungle. Like most places, the small hotel doesn't serve alcohol, but equally doesn't mind if you bring your own. The hotel food was less than inspiring, pretty to look at but rather bland in taste if you are used to the fiery curries found in Kerala. They will cook to order, though, so make them aware of what you do and don't like.
Olive Brook, P. B. No:62, Pothamedu, Munnar,
Idukki(Dist.), Kerala 685 612
+91 4865 230588
www.olivebrookmunnar.com
Found 15kms outside Munnar, Eravikulam was declared a sanctuary in 1975 and upgraded in 1978 to a national park, in part due to its unique flora and fauna. We went at the wrong time to see the enigmatic Neelakurunji, a plant which produces its carpet of blue flowers every 12 years (go there in 2014 for the next viewing) but we did see the fabulously rare Nilgiri Tahr, the only species of Caprine ungulate (look that up in your Funk and Wagnall’s) found south of the Himalayas. There are around 2,500 left of this friendly wild mountain goat in the world, ensuring its place among the status of ‘endangered’ in the WWF list of rare animals.
We arrived at the park excited at the prospect of seeing rare goats. In addition to nature’s gifts, it is home to Anamudi (2690m), the highest peak in India south of the Himalayas. We were not allowed to walk up the mountain path, so along with everyone else ascended the foothills aboard the park bus. We jumped off with about 40 domestic tourists at the high entrance point. We were not allowed to deviate from the path. We were told to keep quiet so as not to upset the wildlife. We could not pass go. Fair enough.
Accompanied by families of screaming children scrambling in the undergrowth, shouting groups of men and chattering women in bejewelled thong sandles and saris, we tried to pretend we were at one with nature. A Nilgiri Tahr crossed the carefully designated pathway in front of us ignoring the noise: the 25 species of other mammals, 132 species of birds, 101 species of butterflies and 19 species of amphibians recorded in the Park kept their distance. An abrupt end to the path made it clear we would not be allowed any further, ending our dream of a decent shot at climbing the highest peak in southern India.
A little disappointedly we returned down the hill-path, trying to find a moment of tranquility among the tourist madness. Anyone who has visited India will know this is never an easy task. We gave up at the bus drop-off point, and, in a last ditch effort to find some serenity in the beautiful surroundings, decided to walk back to the bottom. Fat chance. A guard shooed us back up the hill and we joined a heaving bus of tourists back to the park entrance.
Oh well, we saw the goats.
Idukki, Forest Information Centre, Wildlife Warden's Office, Munnar PO, Kerala 685 612, India
+91 4865 231 587
Google map: bit.ly/xjyUeq
Munnar, Kerala’s best known hill station, is set in a land of undulating hills blanketed by tea estates. But beware, in this dreamy landscape death lurks at every turn.
High up in the valley, under the cool shade of a cardamom plantation, I asked the guide if we could take a stroll into the rain forest. Nitish swiveled his eyes, carefully avoiding mine.
“Madam, there were wild elephants here yesterday.”
In the white heat of the tea estates women sliced fragile new shoots from the tips of shrubs, their razor-sharp shears specially adapted to catch the crop with each snip. Others heaved sacks as big as boulders onto a truck. A man sat in the shade, perfunctorily supervising the women’s work.
Wild elephants? Aren’t they one of the attractions here? I tried an encouraging smile, my excitement fading as he explained the danger.
“Angry elephants will charge and trample everything in their way, madam, including you.”
Stunted and pruned to within an inch of their lives, tea shrubs are packed tightly in manicured rows, like a green candlewick bedspread draped over the rumpled hillsides. Dotted around the slopes, shade-giving acacia trees perforate the swaddled fields. The women moved carefully between the bushes.
I glanced at the forest, now dripping with malevolence under its latticework of branches. Myna birds shrieked and glistening tropical flowers pierced the gloom. A shadow shifted in the darkness and a crazed string-puppet butterfly, the size of a bat, lurched out of the gloom.
Nitish, heartened by my hesitation, warned of foxes in these parts. I shrugged, Fantastic Mr Fox didn’t frighten me.
“If they are hungry they will attack you.”
Unlike the sly tricksters of childhood fairy tales, it seems Indian foxes are wild and ferocious, “like small Alsation dogs.” My naïve Jemima Puddle-Duck persistence faltered.
A muffled shriek from the tea fields stopped us dead in our tracks.
Nitish smiled as he went in for the kill, “also, madam, there are snakes.”
The next day we visited The Kanan Devan Hills Plantations Company tea museum, where monochrome images of puny white men holding guns, each with a foot planted on a dead tiger, were hung in the corridors. We watched a short, and surprisingly interesting, film about the history of the area, then walked through the displays. It is a working museum, and you can walk through the whole process from the leaves arriving to buying your souvenir bag of tea at the end.
A sign on the wall told us that schools and crèche facilities are provided for its families by the local tea cooperative. Remembering yesterday’s scream, I asked a manager if labouring in the plantations could be dangerous.
“Certainly, our workers get bitten by the occasional snake, but we carry anti-venom and are able to treat bites immediately.”
He informed us that all visitors to India should learn how to identify poisonous snakes.
“If you are attacked you must tell the doctor which snake bit you, so the correct anti-venom can be administered.”
Now, I reckon I can recognise an angry cobra, but with over 270 species of snake in India I decided I should keep my camera handy. If avoidance tactics don’t work, the only way I’m going to be able to explain which would-be slithery assassin has bitten me is to take its photo. Smile please.
www.kdhptea.com/TeaMuseum.html
KDHP House, Munnar-685 612, Kerala
+91-4865 230561
If you're looking to relax and unwind after a hard day's trek along the vertical slopes round Darjeeling, then don't come here. Hasty Tasty is frenetic, hectic and loud. Packed from the minute it opens (9.30am) till it closes (around 8pm) this strictly vegetarian cafeteria delivers exactly what it promises, fast and delicious food.
Choose from the vast menu displayed above the long counter, pay (around a quid) for your meal, grab a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it, and see if you can bag a table by the window. As you wait for the waiter to call your number - and if it's a clear day - you can gaze at Kanchenjunga, India's highest mountain, the third highest peak in the world. If you've had enough of mountains (is that possible?) I recommend some simple people watching: a cavalcade of characters swiftly passes through, mainly very cold-looking domestic Indian tourists in idiosyncratic get-ups (the women in be-jewelled, kitten heeled sandals, the men in extravagant bobble hats and tight gilets).
We ate here several times, and a typical meal would include two enormous bowls of (veg) chow mein and two lassis for 120INR (around £1.50).
The kitchen is behind the counter, so you can watch all the food being prepared and cooked in front of you. It doesn't get much fresher.
Opening hours: 09:30 to 20:00
13, Nehru Road, Darjeeling
(0354) 2252727
Google map: bit.ly/xbCQ9e
Dara Gaon Village Retreat is a charming, authentic and comfortable place in the misty valleys of Sikkim.
After an awful time in the graceless Newa Regency in Pelling, we moved to this homestay where we were very happy for five nights. Taking a night off from the slovenly service in our Pelling nightmare, we walked to Kechoperi Lake, and slept in a basic, clean room provided by a local family. On the way back to Pelling, we hitched a lift in the back of a truck full of local tribes people, which stopped at Darap, from where we were driven by Mr Sushil Tamang of the Cherry Village Resort, back to our crumby hotel.
Sushil listened to our tale of woe and suggested we move to a homestay. We hadn't realised there were any in the area, so jumped at the chance. He arranged it all for us and we ended up at Dara Goan Retreat.
It is a steep and rocky path to and through the buildings of Shiva's family home, but this is the Himalayas, so you need to be able manage a gentle climb. If you want the authentic experience of a Nepali home then stay here, or at any of the other homestays springing up in Sikkim.
The price was for full board, but when we ate elsewhere the money spent in the other house was contra-ed against our bill.
We were given wonderful home-cooked breakfasts, lunches and dinners, with tea/coffee available at any time. The service was charming and on time. Some guests forget that homestays are not hotels: they do not have a full complement of chefs in a 24 hour kitchen. It is often only the wife who cooks, and as guests we must respect that she has other chores during the day. You take your meals at the same time as the family, so should be prepared to compromise to a certain extent. Initially we were fed at 8:30pm, but when we said we would prefer to eat earlier the family was delighted -- they had been serving food late because that is what domestic Indian tourists prefer.
We had a list of activities offered to us, many of which we took up, but some of which we simply didn't have time to enjoy. We spent a day on the village walk with Purna, which we would recommend to everyone: we tried the local moonshine, local tea, local food and a strange tea brewed by Purna's Mum, a Limboo lady living in their 200 year old mud-floored family home. We didn't manage any fishing, but if we go back we intend to spend a day at the river.
Please go to Sikkim and please stay here. For further information contact Sushil, who will find you a homestay here, or elsewhere in Darap, he's on 09733235441
EMAIL: sushil_ghising@yahoo.co.in OR
EMAIL: darap.cherryvillage@gmail.com
PHONE: +91-9733235441
WEBSITE: www.cherryvillageresort.com
Jaipur is a bustling, hectic, dusty place full of history and culture so you need an oasis of calm at the end of a day's sight-seeing. Arya Niwas is just that.
We couldn't believe our luck at finding such a gem of a hotel among the hundreds on offer in Jaipur. We weren't the only ones, though, as it was hyper busy in reception with people coming and going... this was the only place in India (so far) where the staff on reception were fast, efficient and courteous. Checking in and out was easy and they helped us with transport and maps. A number of people seemed to be staying at the hotel on a long-term basis.
We stayed twice, with a trip to Agra in between (see my review of the Tourists Rest House there). We were offered a choice of rooms on our first visit, the super deluxe with a balcony and the deluxe without. The cheaper room was twice the size of the first, high-ceilinged and prettily decorated in Rajasthani style, with a bath and shower. It was high up on the roof, overlooking an atrium. To get to the restaurant we walked through a trickling water feature on the roof and peered over balustrading into the garden below. It was a lovely place to sit and relax.
Food here is from a self-service canteen (tip: take a pen and write out the order yourself - it'll be quicker and you are less likely to have mistakes in your order). The food was a little hit and miss, but mostly very good indeed. We ate in the garden under the stars at night and in the shade of the flowery border in the morning.
A great choice in a great city the Arya Niwas is so good we would go back again.
www.aryaniwas.com/hotelarya.html
Behind Amber Towers, Sansar Chandra Road,
JAIPUR - 302001 (INDIA)
+91 (141) 4073450
Google map: bit.ly/vlr8cc
Kannur is a five hour drive north of Fort Cochin, or faster by train. Few package tours venture this far, which means it is free of hotels and tourist developments. The long, white sandy beach is home to fishermen and palm groves, and on the backwaters tour you will probably be the only pleasure boat on the water.
In the high season at the Kannur Beach House a double room with half board will cost 2800 INR per night. Set in a coconut grove by a lagoon, each room has a veranda, and a view of the sea through the one hundred year old palms. The garden is scattered with hammocks and its peace and solitude make it a bird lover's paradise. All meals are cooked in Rozi's kitchen, and are typical of the area; you'll be served dishes here that you won't find in hotels or restaurants. Guests (there are seven rooms) share a long table in the courtyard, together with Rozi and Nazir's family.
www.kannurbeachhouse.com/
Beach house, Thottada P O,
Kannur, Kerala, India
+91 9847184535
I cannot praise the place enough. I came here for my birthday treat and it turned out to be an excellent choice.
The food was quite simply the best we've had in Kerala, and that includes posh hotels like the Taj, smart places in Cochin and down and gutsy quick eateries in Ernakalum (we've been here for 18 months, so I feel I can write with some authority).
The room was prettily and simply decorated in white and terracotta. There were fresh flowers on the dressing table and a pristine bathroom. We fell asleep to the sound of the waves breaking on the beach right opposite us.
If you want to get away from it all, in a quiet area with no hotels around, stay here. Eat the best food in Kerala, go for walks on the beach, chat to the locals, visit the fish market and pick out your local catch for dinner, play games on the extensive roof terrace while being served endless fresh cold drinks and tea.
It's an excellent place for tired, burnt out workers looking for tranquility in genuine Keralan surroundings.
My one quibble is that because this is not a family home - the family lives elsewhere - it is not a true homestay. But what's in a label?
www.kuzhupillybeachhouse.com/
Kuzhupilly Beach Road, Ayampilly PO, Ayampilly PO, Kochi (Cochin) 682501, India
+91 484 2531456
Although we usually make our own arrangements, this time we used this local tour company. The owners, Ronnie and Raj, are young Assamese entrepreneurs who have invested everything in their travel business and own camp at Kaziranga. The service is personal, passionate and attentive.
Discovering our penchant for homestays, rather than hotels, Ronnie put us up with his own family in Jorhat. Homestays are not as popular here as elsewhere in India, but they found small, unusual hotels in Guwahati, a monastery on Majuli Island and we stayed in their own small camp at Kaziranga.
The communication before, during and after our tour was five star.
These new kids on the block deserve to succeed.
www.naturehunttours.com
1st Floor, House No-96,Borthakur Mill Road
Ulubari, Guwahati, Assam : 781007, India
+91-9435515011
We arrived in the city late in the day, and no-one was more relieved than me to discover the hotel I'd booked wasn't half bad. I chose the no frills Hotel Trimoorti off Elgin Road. Its common parts were basic, resembling a cheap serviced office corridor, but the kingsize bed, crisp white sheets and modern, faultless bathroom of the 'super deluxe' room made up for no view and no hotel lounge. Speaking to the owner at the end of our stay, he explained that all the hotel's resources had been concentrated on comfortable rooms and efficient room service. At 8190 INR for three nights in a state capital, including a/c and breakfast, I'd happily recommend the hotel. (In my experience the best room in a cheap hotel beats the worst room in a top hotel any day.) The room service was fast and faultless and the food, particularly the local breakfast, excellent.
www.hoteltrimoorti.com/
24 Ray Street, Elgin Road Kolkata - 700020 India
+91 (0)33 24756878
Google map: bit.ly/AgSWnx
India is strange when it comes to nightlife. It swings between the horrid to the obnoxiously expensive. Food is a bit of hit n miss [erm not sure we'd agree with this - Ed] There are very few places which serve authentic recipes with original and fresh ingredients outside the star hotels [Ibid]. With this fear in mind I ventured into Xes Cafe. Located in a desolate portion of a mall. I was quite apprehensive initially. But boy was I surprised! Their food is truly great. Very continental menu. Burgers with melted cheese oozing out the meat patty. Bliss:) Interiors would transport you to the 90s. A huge Pink Floyd canvas sets the mood and their DJ is bit of a maverick! So you would have rock interspersed with local pop. A gastronomically satisfying experience with nice n friendly crowd. Their chef is from UK and thankfully has carried with him the right recipes. Great place to hang out with wholesome food and foot tapping music:)
round Floor, DLF South Court Mall, Next to Select Citywalk, New Delhi
+91(0)9810057406
Google map: bit.ly/sSOmWw
The port of Cochin in Kerala is home to one of India's largest communities of Christians. Untroubled by Akbar the Great and his descendents, southern India took its influences from China, Africa and Europe. Vasco da Gama first arrived in Fort Cochin in 1498 and in 1524 returned to die on Christmas Eve. He was buried in the church of St Francis. This refreshingly unfussy building – the first European church to be built in India – still stands amid the banyan trees and cricket greens of Fort Cochin (unlike Vasco da Gama whose remains were removed to Portugal).
Like any UK high street, outlets selling tasteless decorations mushroom all over the city from the end of November. In the Yuletide run-up Cochin buzzes with pre-Christmas shopping euphoria. Several times I have been pushed out of the way by sharp-elbowed nuns searching for the perfect Christmas tree bauble along Broadway in Ernakalum's market area. Unlike the UK it's always a festival atmosphere and it is not uncommon to be offered a high-spirited Keralan welcome and cup of tea in the middle of the scrum.
From the 24th December Fort Cochin ratchets up the party with a seven day carnival. Expect fireworks every night (and sometimes in the day), elephants, dancing, games, food, general revelry and more fireworks!
NOTE: I've been based here for 18 months and have only ever heard it referred to as Cochin by the locals. Nobody uses Kochi except in correspondence.
Fort Cochin (also Fort Kochi) and Ernakalum, Kerala, India
Google map: bit.ly/rYaskG
"Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where the mind goes forward into ever-widening thought and action.
Into that heaven, let me awake."
The words of Rabindranath Tagore are writ large – in rainbow colours and block letters filled with patterns – across one of the classrooms at Durag Niwas. Flitting through and around the multicoloured ABCs on the opposite wall are brightly painted butterflies. We are in the heart of the Sambhali Trust.
Now an embattled 27 year old, Govind Rathore set up the Trust when he was just 23. His first-hand experience of seeing women treated as second-class people with no rights, led to his “dedication” to the empowerment of women in Rajasthan.
Jamie and I were in Rajasthan when the 2011 census was underway in India. According to the state's Subhra Singh, Joint Secretary and Director of Census Operations, “The census of 2001 had brought out many striking figures. It had concluded that there are no women in 74 villages, there are no women workers in 647 villages, women literacy is zero in 633 villages, there is no girl child between the age of zero to 6 years in 533 villages and the sex ratio in 14,204 villages is less than 900. Therefore, this year we will be focusing more on women to bring out the truth in these figures."
In some villages there were simply no women? In the areas where women were counted their numbers were so low it seems there were far fewer females than males. Would it be better in 2011?
The recent 2011 Provisional Census figures for Rajasthan show an alarming drop in sex ratio in the 0-6 age group from 909 in 2001 to 883 in 2011. "A decline of 26 points is indicative of a clear bias against the girl child in a cultural milieu mediated by a range of factors – a feudal history, stringent patriarchy, rigid gender norms and deep-rooted disadvantages which pervade all spheres of domestic and social life.”
Kanchan Mathur and Shobhita Rajagopal, from the Institute of Development Studies in Jaipur, went on, “The use of ultrasound technology to reject the unwanted girl child has become widespread in the state. This came to light in 2006 when a sting operation carried out by the Sahara television channel captured on camera over a hundred doctors across 22 districts violating the law. More cases of female foeticide have been unearthed since then in various parts of the state.”
Rajasthan's women, if they survive birth, spend their lives working for no pay, uneducated, often brutalised and usually hungry. Despite rapid growth, India lets its girls die. "First the husband is seated and fed, then the brothers and then whatever is left is fed to the girls... If there are two mangoes in the house, first the boy will get to eat."
If you are female and a Dalit in Rajastan the odds are stacked even higher against you. Dalits (aka Harijans, Outcastes or Untouchables) are often despised by those of 'higher' castes.
"These days,” Govind tells us, “many of my own community will not drink water with me any more because I sit with Dalits.”
Govind carries mace spray with him as he walks the mean streets of Jodhpur looking for girls who may need his help. He says of the caste system, that in theory it no longer exists, "but practically and actually it is very much alive. 70% of India is rural. They say 'God has given us our castes; God made everyone to fit into their role.' The government legislates to help Dalits. The government reserves jobs for Dalits. They get jobs as sweepers, but why can't a Dalit be a teacher?” He says the authorities make the right noises, but it is all “on paper and is not actually happening. It is up to individuals to do something. We must educate and encourage our own communities.”
The Trust's women – they have ranged in ages from 3 to 65 – are given rudimentary education in reading, writing, geography, health and mathematics as well as skills like tailoring, embroidery, block printing and tie dyeing. Many of them only speak their own dialect, so a basic knowledge of both Hindi and English is essential.
In the census, Rajasthan doesn't fair much better when it comes to literacy rates. “In 2001, the men's national literacy rate stood at 75.26% while in Rajasthan the figure was 75.70%. [Not bad.] In the 2011 census, while the national men's literacy rate is 82.14, for Rajasthan it is 80.51, 1.63 below the national average... the difference between the national [male and female] literacy rate and those for Rajasthan in 2001 stood at 4.42 points, in the 2011 Census it has increased to 9.98 points below the national average. The state's literacy rate is the third lowest in the country.”
Why such disparity? The state's female literacy is the lowest in India. Although statistics revealed the staggeringly low figure of 43.9% in 2001, the current rate of literacy among women in Rajasthan is 52.66%. The national average is 65.46%.
"Sometimes they don't know how to hold a pencil. They don't know how to sit properly. Their backgrounds are so awful,” Govind says. “We teach literacy and self-esteem. We teach them about their appearance, good dress sense. Most don't know where Jodhpur is, or even that they live in Rajasthan. Their lives are simply this: get up, brew tea for Dad, do the dishes, clean the house, cook lunch, sleep, clean the household, make dinner, go to bed. Every single day of their lives. They have no weekends, no holidays. They are married at 15, and then have the exact same life with a husband who probably rapes and certainly beats them. Every girl that comes to us has a terrible life. Women are still killed for their dowries.”
Starting with a few girls from his maid's village in the desert, the Sambhali Trust has helped over 550 women since it began, four years ago. Govind's home, Durag Niwas, is a bustling and friendly home-stay for visitors to Jodhpur and the headquarters of the Sambhali Trust. Several of the guest rooms have been given over to volunteers – we meet Annie and Poppy while we are there. We visit the two classrooms on the upper floor of the front building and watch the full time teachers, Simmi and Tamanna, working with the classes.
Simmi is a force of nature, teaching them English and more academic subjects. The class looks by turns terrified and entranced as they watch her every move: they try their best to respond to her, squealing with laughter when she cracks a joke. Tamana is “Didi” their big sister. She is as neat as a pin and all smiles as she sets that day's lesson in the tailoring class; today they are learning how to sew neck openings
Both teachers and girls are part of one big family. The girls confide in their teachers and each other about their terrible situations outside the centre (the Trust has been instrumental in removing some of the younger girls from abusive marriages with their dowries intact). The way the Dalit girls are discriminated against by their neighbours saddens both teachers.
“If a non-Dalit touches a Dalit the person will go home and wash themselves all over. Still, even now,” says Simmi. “The government is trying to eradicate the caste system and help Dalits, but it is entrenched, especially in these less-educated communities.”
More recently Govind has embraced the notion of micro-financing projects for the empowerment of women. He is adamant that through education and investment women will be able to sustain themselves and their children. Most of them have been beaten, abandoned or ostracised from their communities; a large number of them live in the villages in the surrounding desert, where there is no chance for them to survive without some kind of help. He has set up sponsorship opportunities for people to donate funds to the women: a sewing machine or a cow will save a woman's life. The Trust makes an interest-free loan to the woman who, using her cow or sewing machine, works to pay back the loan. The Trust is then able to re-invest the money into a new loan. A hardy desert cow is one of the most useful assets a woman can have: it costs £150. A sewing machine will cost £50 and give a woman a regular income. If you want to change someone's fortunes in a big way, you can sponsor a Dalit child through school. For the vast sum of €200 a year for five years, you can change someone's life.
Many of Govind's friends have become involved in the Trust. Mukta, his wife, runs the home-stay and looks after the affairs of their house. His cousin, Payal, has become an important participant in the project. Married to a proud Rajput man, and living in a beautiful Haveli (nobleman's house) close to Durag Niwas, she has opened her home as an Empowerment Centre. We visit the classes there and sit in on an English lesson given by Annie. A little reluctant at first, the girls gradually warm up and are soon shouting out their names, ages, likes and dislikes. We discuss what they ate for breakfast. Some are shy and one is cheeky. They are having a good time and you could be forgiven for thinking they live sunny, happy lives like other girls.
I discover from Payal that even she, with her high status and financially secure position, lives within the constraints of being a woman in Rajasthan. Her husband works in Jaisalmer, so is away for long periods of time. She cannot leave Jodhpur without him and is expected to behave discreetly in his absence. Luckily, he agrees with Govind that they must work together to improve education and tolerance, and sided with his wife against his mother in opening the centre. Initially uncomfortable with the idea of a house full of Dalits, his mother's objections were worn down; she now tolerates the good works being done there.
We plan to go back to Durag Niwas soon and to visit Govind's family village of Setrawa, in the desert. I wonder how much more the Trust will have achieved by then? We will report back. In the meantime the Sambhali Trust has a Facebook page. If you have a Facebook account, please show your support by clicking the 'Like' button. Thank you!
The Constitution of India guarantees to all Indian women equality, no discrimination by the State, equality of opportunity, equal pay for equal work. In addition, it allows special provisions to be made by the State in favour of women and children, renounces practices derogatory to the dignity of women, and also allows for provisions to be made by the State for securing just and humane conditions of work and for maternity relief.
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Durag Niwas Guesthouse
1st Old Public Park Lane, Raika Bagh
342001 Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India
Phone: (0091) 291-251 23 85
Mobile: (0091) 9828 089 293
mailto:mail@durag-niwas.com
"Would you like to have lunch in Nepal?" said Pramod, the headmaster of RIBS primary school in Manebhanjang, Darjeeling district.
We had just spent the morning talking to his bouncing pupils, aged three to ten, and were ready for a break. So we strolled up the road, nodding to the disinterested border patrol guards, and jumped over a storm drain into Nepal. It hardly felt like moving into another country, but the frisson that goes with flouting the rules turned lunch into a small adventure.
Over a few ill-gotten Nepali beers and nefarious noodles with our new friends, we asked where we should go for the best view of Kanchenjunga, India's highest peak. They told us to avoid Tiger Hill where droves of "those noisy Indian tourists go by Jeep every morning". Instead, they insisted we should try 10,170ft Tonglu, because it offers a closer (just) and clearer view.
"It’s also a very pleasant morning's walk," said our friend Jiwan over the top of his beer glass.
It didn't take them long to persuade us that despite our creaky knees and general lack of fitness we'd easily manage a two day trek in the Singalila National Park. By the time we arrived back in India they had arranged for Pemba, a recently qualified guide, to accompany us.
So the following day off we set, just after sunrise.
Easy trekking
Our guide turned out to be a 21 year old local student eager to practice his new job and excellent English on us, we were delighted to be his guinea pigs. We soon learned, however, that the Nepali idea of an easy walk is quite different from our own (either that or Jiwan had a mischievous sense of humour). The first day included the steepest part of the journey and took eight hours. It drizzled. It thundered. The lightning crashed around us. Not for nothing was Darjeeling named by Tibetans the ‘Land of Thunderbolts’. In fact it rained during the entire trek.
We met some of Pemba’s friends and family along the way, and drank an odd (to our western palettes) salty, buttery tea. In fact we gulped down anything they threw at us, including rakshi, a kind of Himalayan poitín – this one flavoured with rhododendrons – and several bamboo mugs of tongba, millet beer.
At Tumling, after a toasty night under thick blankets in an unheated mountain hut, Jamie dutifully got up before dawn for a hike up to Tonglu, hoping to catch the sun hitting Kanchenjunga through his lens. Unfortunately this vision lasted only a few seconds before the clouds came lumbering across the horizon, gobbling up the mountain and valley.
Mountain folk
On our way back Chitray (‘Bamboo House’) was a welcoming pit stop comprising a collection of timber and bamboo buildings which make up a farm, complete with goats, dogs and chickens mooching around the yard. The largest building doubles as a family home and workers' kitchen. We fell into the warm, dimly-lit dining room, steam pouring off us, and knocked back masala chai while chomping on biscuits. After a while a young Lama and his entourage of monks arrived and were ushered – with great respect and much bowing – into the back room. We noticed an old man sitting in the shadows between the kitchen and dining room. He smiled and raised his glass to us, so we nodded and waved hello back.
Eager to learn his story, we chatted to Chitray Pala (‘Bamboo House Papa’) and through Pemba learned he was 80 years old. Fifty-eight years previously he was imprisoned in Tibet by the Chinese. He knew he would never get out alive, so after twelve days escaped taking his mother and father with him. He didn’t know how many miles they walked over the mountains, but he reckoned it took two months to get to here, where they built their first farm out of the local bamboo. He finished his coffee and went off to be blessed by the Lama.
As we finished our second cup of tea Chitray Pala shouted goodbye to us and set off up the hill in the rain. We watched him disappear into the mist, carrying a heavy piece of corrugated iron on his back.
“He’s going to mend one of the shacks on his farm,” Pemba told us.
We didn’t see much of Kanchenjunga Massif during the trek, the clouds never parted at the right time. But we found other delights: we saw garlands of orchids hanging from forest trees; we filled our tummies with wild strawberries; we spotted eagles flying beside us; and watched maroon-clad Tibetan monks and a young Lama playing football with a can.
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Trips can be arranged by hotels in Darjeeling or local tour companies
On a banner stretched across the main road we read "2600 years of the enlightenment of Lord Buddha". By chance we had arrived just in time to join in the celebratory procession planned for the next day. At a mere 2100m Darjeeling is unlikely to strike you down with altitude sickness, but be prepared for an ear-popping drive from the Indian plains as you ascend two kilometres in four hours.
We arrived at NJP in the morning, after an Arctic overnight experience on the Padatik Express from Kolkata. Why do they insist on having the a/c turned up to 'eleven' on Indian trains? Like our neighbours, we had come prepared: we all went to bed wearing an assortment of woolly socks, bobble hats and fleeces.
New Jalpaiguri shake down
Within minutes of disembarking from our igloos, we were back in the shrieking, dusty heat of an Indian railway station. Outside the station rows of 4WDs lined the car park, six deep and all touting for business. Blinking in the morning light, we tried to decide which ride to choose. A quick poll of the first few vehicles revealed that the going rate for Darjeeling was 200Rs each (about £3). Great. There was a catch. 200Rs would get us a seat, but each 'Jeep' took 10 people: two next to the driver, four in the back seat and a further four in the boot, on fold-down chairs.
Jamie and I are not small, so we agreed to pay 800Rs for the four middle seats. We got in and waited for the vehicle to fill up. And we waited. Other cars, laden down with passengers, headed off. A little crumpled, and slightly irritable from our journey, we sat and simmered. Nothing happened. A family of four approached.
“Shall we share this Jeep?”
Delighted with the suggestion we agreed, and a happy deal was struck. Just as we were about to leave the driver asked us for an extra 400Rs.
“We will pay 800Rs and you will pay 1200,” explained the father of the family.
Er, no? Twenty minutes of lively negotiation between the family, us and the driver took us nowhere. You probably think haggling over 400Rs is churlish. There have been plenty of times around the world when we haven't minded paying over the odds because we are seen as 'rich' foreign tourists in a poor area; in this case it was the (clearly loaded) father of the family who was chiseling us, not the driver. By now, most of the other cars had left, so in a moment of theatricality – while Jamie continued his discussions – I got out and removed my case from the roof. I found a driver who agreed to take us door to door for 1500Rs, the going rate for a private taxi. This was enough of a spur for the original driver to instantly find a couple more passengers. The problem was solved. As we drove out of the station the taxi driver glowered at me; I felt a pang of guilt for using him to score points in our negotiation.
One mile higher
We left the plains and wound our way upwards into the Himalaya, the driver gunning our Jeep round every blind hairpin bend. Although it was crowded, we were glad to be travelling along the pot-holed roads in a nicely sprung 4WD, rather than a knackered old taxi. Jewel and pastel coloured houses grew out of the mountains on either side of us, colourful bells, blooms and racemes shattering the ubiquitous green of the forest. Roses of every colour and shape, hydrangeas, geraniums and other herbaceous border flowers crowded the pots in the windows and frontages. This area of the mountains is famous for its rhododendrons, with the flowers at their most dazzling in April. As we climbed higher the temperature dropped, reminiscent of an English spring.
The narrow gauge track of the Unesco World Heritage Darjeeling Railway criss-crossed the road, snaking its way towards the same destination as us. We stopped to watch the clanking steam train huff and puff its way past us.
Town in the clouds
Darjeeling is a jumble of British Raj architecture, modern concrete boxes, shacks and tiny lanes. It was teeming with people when we were unceremoniously dumped in the centre. We made some space on the heaving road for our bags and weary bodies and asked around for directions to our hotel. We didn't fancy traipsing through the dank lanes trying to find the entrance, so went for broke and took a taxi to the front door.
The Dekeling Homestay Hotel is situated in the midst of the hubbub. We climbed the steep steps, past a landing, through the wooden reception, up again to the sitting room and finally up another flight of narrow stairs to the top floor. The din by now had receded. The view from our corner room gave us our first high view of the Himalaya: one window faced two kilometres down into the valley, and the other faced north west, across town to the Kanchenjunga massif. India's highest mountain (the third highest peak in the world) wasn't playing ball, and hid itself behind the clouds.
Is this still India?
That afternoon we took a walk in what felt like a new country: the language had changed from Hindi to Nepali, with interesting tribal dialects and languages too; the influence of Tibet and China manifested itself in the almond eyes and straight black hair of the people. Some women wore an apron-like national dress, but many were in western clothes. We saw no sarees, and the only salwar kameezes in evidence were worn by Indian tourists. The local people were quiet and contained; it seemed the incessant chatter we had become used to in the rest of India was coming from the domestic tourists.
Cold and travel weary by 5pm, we stumbled across Joey's pub. It turned out to be a bit of a tourist landmark, but with its cosy bar, ramshackle tables and faded posters it felt immediately like home. Pretty soon our table was filled with beer, cheap whiskey and playing cards. Lovely. The barman ordered a take away for us, and tasty noodles (which we came to learn are the staple of mountain cuisine) soon turned up. Beating Jamie at cards in the bar, and again back at the hotel, was a sure sign that he was 'tired'. So we went to bed early, and slept for twelve and a half hours under the eaves of the world.
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Dekeling Hotel
51 Gandhi Road
Darjeeling - 734101
West Bengal
INDIA
Phone : 91-354-2254159/2253298
Mobile : 91-09434462408 / 09679734048
Fax : 91-354-2253298
Email : dekeling@sify.com
norbu@dekeling.com
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