Saturday, November 19, 2011

Deeper into India

Today, we drove from Balaji Temples to Jaipur, a large city in Eastern Rajasthan, containing millions of people.  We were going to host a second clinic today, at the Balaji temples, but some team members have colds, are tired, are recovering from bad rib injuries or just need a break.  We have been working hard and wanted to spend a little extra time here in Jaipur.  After earning a one hundred on my math test today and gulping down a whole pizza, I was ready to go out with my family and Ivan to explore Jaipur.  We caught a bike rickshaw to the old town and experienced the heart and adventure of real Jaipur!

The bike rickshaw was all in all scary!  The front of the bike rickshaw was like a regular, dirty, street bicycle.  Where the back wheel should be, there are two bench seats, one looking forward and one looking back.  Under this bench, were two wheels to keep the bike rickshaw upright.  In India, bikes and cars have the same road rights.  Busy intersections are a regular part of a bike rickshaw’s day.  Mom and I were sitting in the seat looking back behind the rickshaw.  We saw motorcycles, cars, and trucks come right up to us and get super close to hitting our legs.  Wow, what a scary ride! 

Not soon enough, we were dropped off at the old town gate.  We walked through some old alleyways and had some interesting experiences.  We saw pigs, trash, and several people interested in us and our doings.  We saw ten times as many pigs in Jaipur as we have seen in other Indian villages!  Every street had families of pigs eating and roaming the streets.  You can totally tell which pig is the leader of the family and the boss.  The alpha pig normally hogs the majority of the food for himself.  When other pigs want his food, he bites and fights them away.  He is much bigger and harrier.  Trash covered the streets and was the main food supply for many pigs and cows.  These are just some things I have noted about the street pig society!

The most different and interesting experience of our day in the old town of Jaipur was the Indian stalker.  Men seemed more nosey in general and some of them were overly friendly with Mom.  We had one man follow us around and we were not sure of his intention.  He had a bike with him, but he did not seem to use it much.  I suspected it was for catching escaping prospects.  He came up to us and told us that the people in the neighborhood were bad and were Harijans ( the untouchable cast).  To us they looked friendly and definitely not sinister.  He seemed to just be following us and not doing much.  He continued this for awhile causing us to suspect that he was up to something. To loose him, we let him go ahead while we dashed through an alleyway behind his back.  We came out on the other side of the alley and jumped into a scarf shop.  I am not sure how he managed it, but he appeared at the entrance of the shop. Now he was not saying much, approaching slowly behind our backs as we walked away.  Ivan became ticked off, turned around, put his hand up, and said “Enough!”  That was that for our stalker friend!

We caught a ride back to the hotel and tonight my family and I will watch a movie!

Thank you for reading Rohan Geographic!



  1. That, my friend, is a big pig.

    The stalker thing is always pretty creepy. In Morocco, a seemingly random guy on the street said he had seen us at our hotel (correctly naming it), which was about three miles away.

  2. Chopper,
    What happened? Did you ever see him again?


  3. A pig is an animal with dirt on his face,
    His table manners are a terrible disgrace,
    He's fat and sloppy and extremely rude,
    And if you don't give a feather or a fig-
    You might grow up to be a pig....
    Or would you rather swing on a star
    Carry moonbeams home in a jar,
    You could be better than you are,
    Or would you rather be a pig.
    Rohan, when I am made king of the world, you shall become my royal photographer and narrator. I love you reports' honesty and insight.
    I hope your Mom and Dad are healing well. Much love, Grandpa Morgan