Fame

Very belatedly, here is the article that appeared in the Rajasthan Patrika the day of my arrival. The title: American Student in Bikaner Will Do Research.

Hot dog:

Womens

I have now been living at Vinayak guest house for more than six weeks-- and I have yet to learn the name of Jitu's wife.

This is conservative Bikaner's modern interpretation of the timeless Rajasthani (and Mughal) custom of purdah. The Maharajas of the Rajput states would acquire vast harems, and after marriage the young wives moved into a separate wing of the palace where, guarded by eunuchs and served by girls, they spent the rest of their lives until ritually burning themselves on the funeral pyre of their husband (sati). Less prominent members of the community would merely keep their women housebound, and completely covered in the case of male visitors.

Today, the gender egalitarianism of urbanized nomads catalyses trends towards westernization and liberalization, and the lives of women are rapidly improving. Tight jeans and western tees are a rare but unsurprising sight, and among youth female literacy approaches male. But the most resilient customs have nothing to do with outward signs and everything to do with male attitudes.

These are most evident with respect towards western women. There is absolutely no reason for Indian men to think western women are anything but complete whores: movies and TV depict easy flirtation and open sex (see a related observation by my friend Sloan, in Rwanda); most tourists make little effort to conform to public morality (for example, anything but the most fleeting embrace is considered part of sex, and wearing short sleeves is like wearing a short skirt); and I have yet to find an internet cafe whose computers weren't clogged with the nastiest kinds of porn. Next to Indian women, who like the men must stay chaste (and repressed) until marriage at 20-30, 'phoren' ladies are slatterns who will give it up if you just grab 'em in the right way.

So, despite changes, men still like their wives and sisters well-esconsed, even while 'Eve-teasing' any westerner they can and shamelessly exploiting unionized prostitutes.

Lunar cycles

It was a rare night in New York that I looked up and noticed the moon, its brilliance usually surpassed by streetlights or obscured by skyscrapers. Occasionally, I would find its gossamer glow adorning my dorm room when I came home late from a party. In those moments I would feel a close warmth (not just from the whiskey), knowing that untold generations of humans had gazed upon and enjoyed the same spectacle.

I am lucky to have come to a place where the moon's phases are as important as the work week. When I arrived, Ramadan was just beginning and lasted until the new moon at the start of October. That day also marked the beginning of Nauratri, which ended in Deshera nine days later. The subsequent full moon (two days ago) held a ceremony in which a watermelon was left outside all night and consumed in the morning. And the approaching new moon means Diwali.

The Thar: Traditional dry farming

Rajasthan is neatly divided in two by the Aravalli hills, to whose east the Thar extends to the Indus in Pakistan. This 'Great Indian' desert has long been the most densely populated arid area of the world, a distinction that represents a fundamentally sustainable approach towards land use and, in recent years, an ecological disaster as the population has exploded over the region's carrying capacity.

Until the advent of large-scale irrigation, the internal combustion engine, and modern health care the residents of the Thar desert had worked out a very stable economic system whose roles and rules were prescribed by a very strict social code. Nomadic castes (such as the oft-mentioned raikas) herded camels, cattle, goats, or sheep across carefully maintained rangelands whose use was carefully regulated by religious authorities. Small farmers relied on rainfall (averaging about 5-10 inches a year) for their small harvest of millet, pulses, and sorghum; the large variation in yield meant that land consolidation was by and large impossible and small villages remained economically independent. In the cities, the ruling and merchant castes found wealth in the taxation of trade, regulating both overland caravans and the access of the small farmers to larger markets.

As this system anticipated aridity, it was much more resistant to temporary environmental change than, say, a riparian culture completely unprepared for the failure of a flood. The entire success of the system, however, depended on the marginal prosperity of farmers, who in turn relied upon scant and erratic rain. The devastation wrought by drought in Bikaner is legendary in city lore.

Here, a typical dry millet farm:

Visit to Sri Kolayat

This past Sunday the remnants of a cold and the joy of my new bike conspired to keep me from doing anything remotely constructive. Knowing a long drive in the desert was in order, I headed along the Jaisalmer highway to check out the nearest natural lake, Sri Kolayat.

Like Pushkar, the lake is full of lotuses and surrounded by temples and bathing stairways or ghats. Unlike Pushkar, there was no trace of any tourist infrastructure- hardly a visitor at all. The drive back was punctuated only by a policeman who insisted I 'pay a fine now' (Indian for bribe) as my registration had not yet arrived. After flourishing my impressive pile of stamped and embossed paperwork to no avail (normally even a whiff of letterhead is enough to open doors), I took down his name and ID before telling him to fuck off in the coarsest Marwari I could muster. In the end, no problem.

War and peace in Bikaner

War has come often to Bikaner, long famous for its ruthless cavalry whose skills were sharpened by the constant infighting of the Rajput kingdoms. The district holds the distinction of being the only city in India never to have been conquered, a fact that seems odd when its simple Junagarh fort is compared to the imposing castles of nearby Jaisalmer, Jodhpur, and Jaipur.

While many would like to attribute this independence to the ferocity of its warriors (who were the elite of Mughal army) or the blessings of Karni Mata, several more practical factors come to mind. Foremost among these is the city's aridity and isolation, hindering all but the most determined invaders. Even more telling is that Bikaner never faced the Mughals or British in battle. Shrewd political leadership led to defensive pacts with these powers as their influence was waxing, and skilled courtiers kept the state in favor. Indeed, I have even heard Bikaneris refer to their district's opportunistic past with a touch of shame.

Today, Bikaner is home to large detachments of the Indian military. War with Pakistan would entail nuclear exchange, rendering impassable the main road connection between the countries (Delhi-Amritsar-Lahore-Islamabad). The empty Thar provides an easy highway into the heart of Pakistan, and so it is here that Indian offensive might is concentrated.

Pimp my Ride, Indian Edition

One of the most noticeable aspects of India is its deafening noise level, which recedes only slightly at night as devotees, drunkards, and dogs take control of the streets. One of the greatest daytime offenders is the tricked-out autorickshaw (tuk-tuk) replete with a custom paint job and massive sound system blaring the latest Hindustani hits to cover up the ominous skips in the two-stroke engine. My masculine sensibilities offended by the presence of wheels badder than mine, I set out to pimp my ride, Indian style.

The six-day workweek affords little time for all-day automotive capers, so yesterday I set out with the limited goal of getting a stereo system installed. This way, my extensive funk collection could grace the streets of Bikaner alongside Punjabi dance tunes and Bollywood anthems. Through Jitu's recommendation, I consulted with Kailash, a mechanic who specialized in the modification of electrical systems.

His plan was simple. We would bypass the battery to feed a small amplifier equipped with a cutoff (so I could plug it into the wall for tailgating) and a switch. The amp would be housed in a box with a mounting for one speaker, with the other fixed in the protective bars in front of my left foot. I would build a small hook up and casing for my iPod.

Our first stop was the Jain Market, where we haggled over the price of the equipment sans warranty. After a brief stop at home to test the system, we headed towards the Modern Market, where mechanics were able to jury-rig the box to my Platina and install the speakers, routing the wiring through the body of the bike.

Returning home, we began the process of final assembly. While I worked on the iPod holder, Kailash and his friend Dharma mounted the electronics and tested the circuits. I noted with apprehension that the method for checking for current involves the tongue.

The system (no specs, for it was built in true hodge-podge Indian style) puts out enough volume to be heard over the engine even at high speeds, but I haven't yet developed the confidence to deploy it in the city. For that, I'm going to wait until I can reliably drive in traffic without stalling out. Til then, and the next project, the Funkmobile will have to wait.

Kailash (l), Dharma (c), and Sonu (r) discuss the electronics in the Vinayak courtyard:

The front speaker. The amp/box assembly. Switch, iPod case, and rear speaker.

Info on Bikaner, Rajasthan

Bikaner is a small city (600,000 people) near the western edge of Rajasthan, a large arid state on India's border with Pakistan. Founded in 1488, it joined the Mughal Empire by diplomatic accession in 1570. With the advent of British power in the region, the ruling caste of the area (the Rajputs) made a deal to retain their power by becoming a 'princely state' under the Raj. Upon Indian independence, these highly autonomous states came together to form Rajasthan only with the guarantee of 'privy purses' for their rulers. While these stipends as well as many other traditions have faded in the past sixty years, Rajasthan remains one of the least modernized states in India, with a caste system firmly entrenched by centuries of hereditary rule and an economy still highly reliant on traditional ways of life. Bikaner, deep in the Thar desert and several hundred kilometers away from the state's other major population centers, remains a conservative city even by Rajasthani standards.

Impressions of Bikaner

My Rough Guide describes Bikaner as a 'crowded, smog-filled commercial city lacking most of the charm of its desert sister, Jaisalmer' (roughly). These words, along with the condescension of the embassy-types in Delhi, had prepared me for the worst; if this was the best to be said about a place in India (a country famed for its crowds, pollution, and urban uniformity), then what kind of life was I going to be leading?

My impressions have so far been the exact opposite. The streets are relatively clean, the air (especially outside the city) is clear, traditional architecture abounds, there is little desperate poverty, and the lack of a real tourist culture means the locals are much friendlier than elsewhere. So what if there's no towering citadel or spa-ashram-- here's a National Research Centre on Camel!