WHAT a week! I hired a car and went up country to a place called Harridraw -- that's how you pronounce it, but I won't even attempt to spell it!
It is where the Ganges emerges from the Himalayas and the name means God's Gate. It is a very sacred place for the Hindu religion and most Hindus will want to go there at least once in a lifetime.
So I was expecting quite a holy sort of situation. Not a bit of it. It was a seething, teeming, marketplace that made Blackpool at its peak look quiet. There were thousands of people, and lots of them -- me included --making their way to the cable cars that carry you up the mountain to the temples where the view is breathtaking.
But the ambience to me was not in the least spiritual. Oh no! It was a case of 'Please! Come! Come! Look at my shop! See! See! What I have for you to buy', and even down at the river that is very fast flowing and very cold, young boys were searching for the coins that believers had tossed in for good luck.
I decided not to take a dip but I did put my foot in. I thought then I would have at least a little bit of me that is sin free.
I was quite pleased that I had been, even though it was not for me a religious experience, but the three-hour drive through the Indian countryside was very fascinating. The little villages with people seeming to be standing doing nothing, pigs and cows wandering here and there, small beautiful children making dried cowpat cakes and putting them in a nice circular pile ready as fuel for the fire -- here nothing is wasted.
But what a difference on Sunday. I was off to the big polo match as a guest of Colonel Kuldeet Garcha, ex-Indian Cavalry and a most charismatic gentleman. It was such a contrast!
Here everyone was beautifully turned out, and the setting was 'English County'. We chatted about the Hutton inquiry and the BBC's role, whether Tony Blair would be re-elected, and being in India, the cricket of course. Yes all very civilised. We could have been at a point to point meeting in Keswick, it was so very British. I had a great day. On Monday, it was a drive down to Jaipur the Pink City, stopping on the way at Nimarra Fort for lunch. This gave us a chance to see the absolutely splendid style of how the Maharajahs lived, for it was not only a fort but also a palace, and unbelievably grand.
At Jaipur the Colonel took me to his ranch to see his stud farm where he breeds the polo ponies. He told me that there is no money in polo, it's a disease for the wealthy and the only cure is death or poverty. So that let me out.
On the way back we went off the beaten track and stopped by the wayside where a man was stood with his camel. I decided to see if I could have a ride, but when I got close up I was more than a little scared, for the camel was very tall, but as a crowd of villagers had gathered I had to go on.
Well they had a laugh. No saddle! Nothing to hold on to! And me with long artificial nails, I'm most proud to say I didn't let you down. But let's put it this way, I won't be doing that again in a hurry.
Till next week.
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