Ranakpur, India: “You watch the bags; I’m going after the fake priest!”
March 13, 2007
Our next stop in our travels through India would be Ranakpur, so we hired a car and driver to make the 6-hour trip there from Udaipur, via Eklingi and Kumbalgahr.
When hiring a driver in India there’s little mystery as to what you’ll get: Someone who drives like a crazed wild-man, with a total disregard to safety of both passengers and anyone in the flight path. This can be problematic in India, as the roads are shared by everything from gasoline trucks to shepherds and their goats.
Considering this, whenever I hire a driver in India I always try to do some work to qualify him. I prefer someone who is over 30 and has kids, as (a) it suggests that they’ve survived a while as a driver in the madness of Indian roads, and (b) that even though Hindus will have it good in their next life, I like to see that they still have something to live for in this one. So we found a driver in Udaipur who we thought fit the bill, and as always, I gave him the same little speech that I give to anyone driving us around in India:
“We are in no hurry. If you drive safely and I don’t have to tell you to slow down, then you’ll get a good tip. Do you understand?”
As always, the answer is “yes, yes, yes,” which in India is roughly equivalent to “I’m ignoring you, I’m ignoring you,” and off we went.
We first went to Eklingi, where there’s a temple that is well-known in the area. As Indian temples go it was ok, but nothing to go out of your way for. As is often the case, there were a few beggars around. As I came out of the temple, there was a young man sitting by the entrance with his hand out. He was a fine-looking fellow, with bright eyes, movie-star hair and boyish good looks. My initial reaction was that it was very odd he was begging. Then I saw that he had a deformity such that his feet pointed inward, directly at each other. I’ve never seen such a thing in the US, but I’ve seen it a number of times in India. Heartbreaking. I gave him 20 rupees (about 45 cents), at which point a swarm of perfectly healthy kids materialized, all screaming for rupees. It’s India…..
The congestion on the road in front of the temple was impressive, and consisted of cows, busses, trucks, handcarts, a herd of goats, and a few random Sadhus, all wandering around in random directions on a 2-lane road such that it took a LONG TIME to get through the mess. I had good fun with it, though, breaking into a disc-jockey radio voice and offering Hernandez a mock traffic report:
“Good mooorrrninggg, Eklingi! It’s a little busy on the roads today! Trucks carrying gasoline and other explosive materials are locking brakes and screeching to a halt on the outskirts of town due to congestion over by the temple. Traffic is now backed-up all the way to the front of the market, up to where the stray dogs congregate. Beggars are thick, as are cows. A group of 30 or 40 goats are currently blocking the way out of the area, and they appear oblivious to the honking of what I estimate to be 750,000 car horns. Imitation sadhus have also been spotted in the area, disrupting movement for a tourist bus that is trying to make it’s way through. If you’re in a hurry this morning, then Eklingi is best avoided. Now, back to the news!”
Next stop was Kumbhalgarh, where a huge old fort sits impressively on top of a hill. Rajisthan is full of forts, but Kumbhalgarh ranks high on the list, and is well worth a look if you’re in the area. We read that the ramparts were wide enough to fit 8 horses astride (looked about right), and our driver and others claimed that the 36km wall of the fort is the second longest wall in the world behind the Great Wall of China (no idea if that’s true).
The drive on to Ranakpur was through some absolutely beautiful scenery, with colorful locals herding their goats, sheep, water buffalo, and cows. We stopped by an irrigation well, which was manned by a boy who drives a cow in a circle, which controls the pulley that pulls buckets of water up for the fields. We got out and brought the village to a halt by wandering around, saying lots of “namastes” (“hello”), and taking a few pictures. Hernandez used her pocket camera to take a short video of some of the kids, and became a local hero when she showed the kids what they looked like the small screen. A great time was had by all.
As we headed along towards Ranakpur I would occasionally become aware that we were going a little fast, at which point I’d look over and see Hernandez gripping the armrest with white knuckles. I’d tell the driver to slow down, he’d slow down for a few minutes, then the scene would repeat. Apparently drivers were not well-loved by the locals, as in many places they had laid rocks across the road, forcing drivers to slow down, stop, get out and move the rocks in order to pass. Seeing how our guy was flying through the villages, I certainly couldn’t blame them.
Finally I had my fill:
"I have asked you four times to drive slower. If I must ask you one more time, then no tip. Please do not drive faster than 40 km/hr. Do you understand?"
Driver: "something, something, something …50?”
Me: "No, 40."
Driver: "something, something, something…45?
Me: "No, 40."
Driver: "OK sir."
It kind of worked, but upon arrival the driver and I couldn’t get away from each other fast enough.
In Ranakpur there were long-tailed monkeys in the trees and interesting people in the villages. However, the star (and only) attraction in Ranakpur is a beautiful Jain temple with intricate marble carvings. (Jainism is a small religion in India, with an emphasis on minimalism and non-violence). As is often the case when traveling, the site was interesting, but the experience is what was truly memorable. Here’s the story:
The Jains have strict rules for visitors, one being that absolutely no leather was allowed in the temple. Because we had leather belts and shoes, we decided to take turns entering the temple, and I entered first while Hernandez waited outside with our shoes and day-bags.
As soon as I walked in to the temple, I was approached by a resplendent-looking man in a beautiful orange robe. He was wearing an orange turban, and spoke to me in a commanding baritone voice.
“Good afternoon sir,” he said as he put a dot of tikka on my forehead before I could duck. “I am the high priest of the temple, and am responsible for it’s maintenance. Could you perhaps support the temple with a donation?”
He had remarkably clear blue eyes, and a magnificent salt and pepper beard that was combed to a point at the apex of his chin. In short, he looked and sounded like a movie star.
Now I had a vague feeling of unease about all this, as it’s not common for a priest to approach folks at the door and ask for a donation. But he looked impressive, and I quickly concluded that I couldn’t take the risk of stiffing him just in case he really was a priest. So, I reached into my pocket and gave him 40 rupees (about a dollar).
I spent a few minutes looking around the temple, which was indeed impressive: Over 600 years old, with something like 1500 columns of intricately carved white marble. I was still thinking about the priest, though, as I wrapped-up my walk-through and went back out to meet Hernandez. She cackled at my tikka’d forehead, while I explained that I was ambushed by someone claiming to be a priest. Then she went inside while I kept an eye on our bags and shoes, and wiped the tikka off my forehead. I took a few steps over to the ticket window, and asked the guy behind the desk:
“Excuse me. I go inside the temple; a man in orange robe tikkas me and asks for money. Is he high priest, or thief?”
“He is thief,” says the man at the ticket window.
Oooooo….now I’m instantly very unhappy. In India someone is always trying to rip you off, and every once in a while someone gets you, and if you worried about them all you’d go nuts. But I pride myself in fending-off the con artists, and I was aghast that a con-man would pose as a priest in a temple! That’s a bit aggressive, even for India.
So, when Hernandez re-appears after touring the temple she finds me doing a slow burn, neck veins bulging, steam coming out of ears, and taking my shoes back off to go into the temple again.
“Hernandez, watch the bags. I’m going after the fake priest!”
Usually quick to tell me to simmer down, she apparently realizes that I’m on boil, and calmly says “It’s just a dollar. Is it really worth it?”
“Yes!” I said as started off towards the temple.
Meanwhile the ticket guy is going nuts, yelling at me not to go back in there, as I guess he’ll get beat-up if the fake priest finds out the he was the one who ratted him out. I told him it would be our little secret and steamed ahead.
I would estimate that each of my strides covered about 11 feet, and I remember hearing the fading voice of Hernandez call out “Don’t make a scene; remember that you’re in a tempelllllllllllllllllllll.”
I walk back in and there’s my guy, still looking absolutely magnificent. I put on a smile and a relaxed look, and casually walk up beside him.
“I’d like my donation back,” I said very politely.
The fake priest paused, then apparently realized that I was onto his gig, and scrambled around while pulling a huge pile of bills out of his robe.
“I’ll take that one,” I said as I pointed to a 50 rupee note on top. He handed it over, and in that incredible baritone voice said “Of course, sir.”
As I took the note I kept a smile on my face, but tried to make my eyeballs bulge out of my head as I gave him my angriest possible look. I turned and walked out the exit, and felt 10 feet tall as I returned to Hernandez.
“Did you get your money back?”
“Get my money back? Hell, I turned a 25% profit!”
India…..
Bob’s ratings (1 = terrible, 5 = OK, 10 = fantastic):
- Eklingi: 2
- Kumbhalgarh Fort: 7
- Ranakpur: 3
- Jain temple at Ranakpur: 6
- Rankpur Hill Resort (hotel): 6