Detour to a wedding
Bathinda to Jaipur, 9th-11th October
Out of Bathinda, I'd finally be crossing the border of Punjab. I was looking forward to the novelty of entering a new state, and for a change of pace I covered the 98km from Bathinda to Sirsa in a single day, mostly on backroads. I gave myself the next day off to rest my legs and catch up on some errands, something made easier by the lack of attractions in Sirsa. It was definitely a step down town-wise from Bathinda, but still big enough that I was able to find myself a plastic visor. For the last couple of days I'd been increasingly irritated by sand in my eyes, and had been wishing for a motorbike helmet style visor. I ended up with a big plastic mask left over from the pandemic, with a free extra one thrown in by the shopkeeper after he learned about my bike trip.
Sirsa is in Haryana but it's just a stone's throw away from Rajasthan, something illustrated by my first sighting of a camel-drawn cart. I'm expecting to see more and more camels as I enter the desert region just to the south. The west of Rajasthan is really proper desert, sand dunes and all, but I'm not sure yet if I'll go that way. My original plan had been to go to Bikaner and way out to the desert city of Jaisalmer before swinging back towards Jodhpur and Udaipur, but I was now heading more in a direction towards Jaipur. I'd been invited to a family wedding there and was considering attending, but it would mean skipping a chunk of cycling distance.
I crossed into Rajasthan the next day. The border seemed to be evident immediately in the landscape - flatter, more barren surroundings with short shrubs replacing trees. All that might have been exaggerated in my head with the knowledge of the border, but the change in fauna was undeniable. For the past 700-ish kilometres, I'd not seen a single living snake. I'd seen one mangled roadkill and had several false positives with cables and ropes, but I didn't see a living snake at all until just 10km into Rajasthan. It was bizarrely graceful slithering along the tarmac, and quite fast too. Sadly, I didn't have time to get a picture before it was gone, but it's my mission now to get a picture next time.
The human character felt different too, with small roadside restaurants in a new style: small, one-story structures set back from the road with a big sandy area in front for parking. Lots of them were labelled "hotel and restaurant" despite their small size, and I wondered if they had some small rooms in the back. The signs were also back to Hindi (or close enough that it's familiar to me - the local language is Bagri). Punjabi quickly disappeared as soon as I left Punjab, and I found myself nostalgic for the Gurmukhi script I'd been learning and the gurdwaras that had been in every village. Here in Rajasthan, villages were much smaller. Sometimes they'd be no more than a cluster of houses and shops along the road, passed through on my bike in a matter of seconds. I'd definitely entered the desert state, and I was enjoying the novelty already.
I stopped for the night in the small town of Bhadra, finding a bed in a dharmshala hall alongside a man who'd travelled to Bhadra for a doctor's appointment. I decided, finally, to commit to going to my family wedding in Jaipur, which was starting on the 13th. That left me the entirety of the 12th to somehow make my way to Jaipur, leave my bike at my aunt's house, and get some wedding-appropriate clothing. Zip-off hiking trousers and a crumpled shirt probably wouldn't cut it, and I'd be meeting several aunts and uncles for the first time.
I'd be sad to interrupt my cycling just at the point where I'd entered a new state and was enjoying all the changes, but I figured it was outweighed by the chance to attend my first wedding in India. Since my family live in the north, I wouldn't get any more opportunities south of Jaipur so this was probably my one shot. Mind made, I now had to figure out how I'd actually get there. In retrospect, the smart option would've been to take a night bus instead of sleeping in the dharamshala, as it turns out that the posh A/C buses with big luggage compartments only run at night on that route. Instead, I waited until the next morning and realised my mistake then. I was saved by a helpful local who argued with a bus conductor on my behalf and shepherded me and my bicycle onto the back row of a bus to Rajgarh (aka Sadulpur), a town where I'd hopefully find a bus to Jaipur.
On that bus to Rajgarh, the conductor was initially not pleased with me for taking too long loading my bike up through the small door, but warmed up once he was done with the rush of departure. I gave my standard interview to him and to the guy sitting next to me: where are you going, where are you from, what's your job, what's your father's job, etc. A new one this time was "what's your caste", which I didn't get much of in Punjab. My answers seemed satisfactory, and the conductor quite proudly told me that he was a Jaat. My seat neighbour was also very curious to hear about life in the UK (and, another classic, the price of my bike and my salary). I tend to lie and say that I'm a mathematics teacher, which ends any further questioning since everyone understands the concept well already. Thankfully, when various other people on the bus were curious about me, the conductor was happy to pass on my story without me having to say a word myself. I'd have been exhausted if I'd needed to tell everybody - two was enough. It's tiring to answer everyone's questions but I understand why people are curious, with me being such an oddity and their opportunity to talk to me so limited. It pays to make friends, too: when we reached Rajgarh the conductor took me to the local bus officials to help me with my onward travel to Jaipur.
In my second bus, my bike was loaded into the small compartment at the back. I was surprised that it fit, and quite thankful that I didn't have to tie it up on the roof of the bus. That probably would've been fine too, but I'd be worried about damage to the bike from all the bumps along the way, especially since I've got an aluminium frame rather than steel. I was also happy that my bike was out of sight rather than being next to me like it has been in the previous bus. Without the bike, I was able to blend in with the other passengers and I appreciated not being the bus celebrity.
By the time I got into Jaipur it had gotten dark, and I did a rare bit of night cycling through the busy city to get to my aunt's house. Dealing with the huge roads and chaotic traffic, I belatedly realised that it was the biggest city I've been in since I took the train out of Delhi and hence the most hazardous traffic yet. The past couple of weeks have trained me well enough, though, and I wasn't too overwhelmed.
I was also planning to make use of the big-city stay to sort out a few errands. One of my panniers' quick-lock attachment systems had broken badly in Kapurthala, and I'd been using an improvised strap to keep it attached to my bike since then. Staying in one place for a few days would give me an opportunity to get a replacement Ortlieb part delivered from a specific middle-class bike shop in Delhi who had previously supplied me with some spare tubes. The attachment systems of Ortlieb panniers have caused me trouble before, with the plastic clips snapping, and I remembered that Paul had had trouble with them too, switching to Crosso bags as a result. Perhaps if I were going through Central Asia too I'd follow his lead there; in India at least spare parts are available.
Errands would come later, though - for the moment, I was happy to be fed and housed by my aunt, and saved a shopping trip by borrowing some clothes from my uncle. Jaipur would be a longer stop and a chance to breathe, especially if I stayed until Diwali, a full week away. I was still a bit sad to have lost the cycling momentum just as I had come into a new state but a break would probably be good for me too, and I was looking forward to experiencing a proper Indian wedding.