“NAMASTE!” (HELLO) called our greeters at Delhi Airport as they hung a welcoming garland of orange marigolds around our necks. ‘Pinch me!’ I thought, ‘this can’t be real!’ But it was real, and INDIA – its warm-hearted people, colourful cultures, vibrant festivals, opulent palaces, stunning forts, chaotic streets and sumptuous food – was already overwhelming us!
The motorway that took us into huge sprawling Delhi was crammed with blaring early-evening traffic: cars ancient and modern, rusty trucks and multi-coloured buses, kids on bikes, fleet-footed pedestrians ducking and diving between the crawling flow. White painted lines appeared randomly on the road surface, but nobody seemed to care about lanes. In fact, an occasional motor-scooter would appear, weaving its way against the tide in the opposite direction.
“There are three things you need when driving here,” said our handsome young escort. “Good brakes … good horn … and good luck!”
Three mornings later, we woke up aboard the Royal Rajasthan on Wheels. That may not sound like a train, but it is! Rekindling the charm of a bygone era with its bold colour-combos and big landscape windows, the RROW is a regal treat: a red-carpet welcome … plush lounges … spacious ensuite bedrooms … restaurants serving taste-tingling dishes (both Indian and European) … plus Indian staff who couldn’t have been friendlier, bowing and smiling and Hello-Mr-John-ing.
Our hotel-on-wheels was a long one, and – despite its somewhat tired décor – unbelievably posh by Indian standards. (India’s overloaded public trains look beat-up by comparison, with bodies hanging out the doors and faces peering out the tiny, barred windows.)
We were getting used to the constant rock’n’rolling, clackety-clacketing, horn-
blowing and lurching. And early one morning, a steaming wake-up coffee in my hand, I sat at the tiny desk in our room, watching the Indian countryside rumble past outside. Basic rural homesteads and ancient farm implements … scrawny sheep and goats and pigs and camels, plus an occasional sacred cow … endless fields of green wheat tended by bent-over young and old … little kids playing cricket on bare earth in empty paddocks … hour after hour of rubbish-strewn train-tracks … and station-platforms crammed with curious onlookers, waving shyly or staring with frank astonishment.
We stopped for half an hour at one place, and a dozen friendly young men came right up to our carriage-window to watch me typing and my wife doing her crossword. A little unnerving – not quite what we’re used to back home – but all quite harmless and fun!
The Royal Rajasthan on Wheels was launched in 2009 to showcase a vibrant, colourful chunk of Northern India, once the playground of Moghuls and Rajputs. And you can see why we were excited: ahead of us lay highlight-stops at places we’d never dreamed we would visit: Delhi – Jodhpur – Udaipur – Jaipur – Varanasi – Agra – and more.
Frankly, if you want to feel like a Maharaja, this is the train for you – on the go-go-go for seven eye-popping days, thundering over long distances each night, then sightseeing your legs off each day.
Think multi-hued turbans and glittering saris … sacred rivers and wild tiger reserves … gigantic citadels and eye-popping memorials.
Think Taj Mahal …!
Although it wasn’t the PLACES of India that captivated me most – it was the FACES: the amused and gloriously-whiskered faces of older men … the wise, crinkled, worn faces of older women … the strong, handsome faces of younger guys … the stunningly beautiful faces of younger women … and the wide-eyed, full-of-life faces of the kids.
I was so, so glad that I’d come!
I bet you wish you’d come, too – right?!
