SIX HOURS ON A BUS TO NAGAUR

On our way home from our respective home hosted dinners, we spotted several weddings. Ranvir tells us he rode a white horse to his wedding. It is a tradition, a white horse, black horse or an elephant.

Revelers were waiting on the groom and his entourage. Ranvir told us anybody would be welcome to join if they just showed up.

Ranvir asks the bus driver to drive slowly so we can see, but that is a pretty tough thing to do in heavy traffic.

We catch a glimpse of this beautifully dressed groom on his way to his wedding. No flash, a window, a moving bus, it is blurry, my apologies. But look how colorful his clothing is.

As we pass the window to our hotel, there is a wedding celebration on a lower floor. I decide sleep is more important and to bed.

In the morning, before leaving for Nagaur, we make several stops. An ATM and a drug store where I buy cough drops for Theo and batteries for my clock. Everyone it seems needs something. It is a muddy, crowded spot with a laundry next door. I was fascinated by the steam iron the laundryman was using. But, the man in the pink sweater was very curious about us.

His friend indicated he wanted his picture taken. It is one of those ever sweet moments you don’t forget as he smiled proudly at his own permanent image from my camera.

As we load into the bus, this young bull stole an eggplant off a vegetable stand. The owner physically pushed him out of the way and scolded. They have to be harsh to protect their livelihood.

From the bus window I see a wild pig that also has the run of the town we are passing through.

The road is bumpy in places, but it is a major highway as well. These men are digging this huge ditch by hand tools and carrying dirt and rocks away with pans on their heads. Reminds me of China.

We pass through a town that produces marble. People in the area suffer high rates of silicosis. They have masks, but don’t use them.

Another town that specializes in shoe making. Leather, in a country that does not eat beef.

I saw a large herd of obviously “owned” and cared for cattle. There must be a sect that doesn’t worry about the sacredness of the cow.

This herd of cattle crossed the busy highway and when a huge truck coming at us approached, they hustled a bit faster.

We crossed a bridge and the tariffs to cross are fairly steep.

Women with heavy loads walk with their back to traffic.

It appears to me they use their own clothing to wrap around the burden.

Ranvir guesses that these horses are headed for the Fair to be sold.

We roll into this small town and Ranvir is talking about the people here who escape taxes by building their own funky motors. They are pasted together with spare parts from here and there. No license fees to pay. The government doesn’t know they exist. They break down often but they are happy with them. He said maybe we could ride in one? I thought he was kidding.