Beawar – Pali - 120 km
Although a different route was planned, I considered it best to follow the larger road.
Albeit a toll road, bicycles were allowed, and the road was surprisingly quiet (for
India, that is). Highways never made enjoyable riding, but the preceding day's stress
was something I could do without.
The area was a typical barren desert landscape featuring equally barren mountains.
Only a few goats grazed in the distance and a few forlorn plastic bags blew in the
wind. I put my head down and pushed onwards to Pali past numerous dhabas selling
basic food (often simply one or two dishes) and chai (tea). These dhabas were merely
mud structures sporting cots to sit or lie upon. No woman ever frequented these
dhabas as there appeared only men. It felt uncomfortable going into these places as
all stopped eating and they never took their eyes off me. Drinking chai and being
observed at such close range is somewhat nerve-wracking.
At least the area was littered with water shelters. Like nearly all desert areas, clay
urns were placed under covered canopies. It’s amazing how cool the water stays in
these clay pots. At these stands was always a communal mug dangling from a string
which people used without touching their lips, a skill I never acquired.
Pali – Sumerpur - 85 km
I didn’t feel like cycling but packed up and pedalled out of Pali. It turned out a typical
day in Rajasthan; dry and dusty as I biked past goat herders and women in colourful
saris tending fields. Many called me to have chai and others stopped to ask where I
was going, but my experience of a few days ago was still fresh in my mind and I
didn’t stop.
Calling it quits in Sumerpur, which sported lodging along the main road, made it a
short day. Around midnight, one almighty racket erupted in the street below. It
must’ve been a festival of sorts as a parade went by accompanied by music so loud it
didn’t only wake me but shook the building and furniture. I kid you not!