This is my 3rd and final day in Udaipur. I have no guide and plan to relax by the pool and read. But, the hotel staff has other ideas. They arrange a jeep safari for me to see a neighboring village, Burja. This is what Indian life outside the cities is all about. I am escorted by the hotel’s front office manager, his assistant and a driver. Quite an entourage.
This is an old house in Burja. Note the double doors which indicate the person who built this house was wealthy.
This is a newer house in Burja. There was recently a marriage in this household as shown by the paintings on the wall.
This is a very old house. It is constructed of stone, clay and cow dung. It will last for hundreds of years.
The streets of Burja.
This is a temple in Burja. The tree is used in a religious ceremony in which the women pray for the long life of their husbands and brothers. The practical reason for this ritual is to promote the long life of the tree.
This tree in the center of town serves as a kind of City Hall. The people (aka men) of the village gather around the tree to discuss and decide on civil and legal issues.
Scenes of village life.
Despite being a fairly poor community, Burja still has a few houses with some beautiful carvings.
Just like everywhere else in India, Burja has plenty of cows blocking the road.
This ox cart is used to transport goods and people around Burja.
This stone is used to sharpen the villagers knives and machetes.
The resort where I am staying, Fateh Garh, employs 18 women from the village. One of the women is on her day off. She sees us and invites us in to have a look at her home. I do not take pictures. It is small with 1 room that serves as a bedroom, storage area and kitchen. The roof is used for the laundry and for cooking when the weather permits.
The women here are hard and weathered from all of the hard work. But, they are beautiful and what they lack in softness they make up for in strength, vigor and kindness. This old women requests I that her photograph ( you should have seen her primp beforehand). She is grateful to me for taking her picture. After examining my bone structure (rather closely I might add) and reading my energy she exclaims that I am of royal Indian descent and insists I come in for chai. This will probably kill me in the end but, the experience was worth it (and the milk was boiled, sort of). When I leave she smiles and slaps me on the back hard enough to nearly crack a rib. She will be the envy of all of her neighbors for having a Westerner in her home.
The countryside around Burja is stunning.
This was an incredible opportunity and an experience that I will not soon forget.