2/8/06: Spy vs. Spy, the Happy Hookah, and Midnight at the Oasis

Following a leisurely morning at the hotel, we roamed the bizarre bazaar of the old city to explore, amid spice, fruit, vegetable, and textile stands as well as cattle and lovely ladies wrapped in rainbows of colored sarees. Under the hypnotic spell of a tasty herbal tea infusion, we purchased the not-so-secret ingredients--cinnamon, cardamom, and saffron—from a local spice shop. A quick and relatively unproductive trip to yet another upscale textile showroom revealed our shop-weariness, but also brought us together again with Sunny’s brother- and sister in-law, whom we heartily re-thanked for their hospitality.

Next Stop: the Thar Desert, an easy 90-minute drive away. Once again, Sunny ignored our inquiries about the evening’s plans. Once again, the mystery added to our ultimate pleasure in the denouement. Upon our arrival at Manvar, we boarded an open air Range Rover for the dune ride to our desert camp, but not before covering our noses and mouths with surgical masks. We resembled a cross between Desert Storm and cold war Mad Magazine cartoon characters.

Our first stop on the sandy trail was definitely a HIGHlight of Northwestern India—a small 4-hut village with 6 elegantly mustached men squatting in a courtyard, preparing their afternoon delights for our viewing and tasting pleasure. Time for their late afternoon Rajasthani HIGH tea—opium from home grown organic poppies, inhaled through a well-seasoned hookah, as well as hand-rolled bidis. Their smiles and laughter rose as the sun waned, as one of the group played the two-flute, and as three anonymous members of the Sinha party shared the hookah. From the opium den, we visited another small set of nicely decorated huts, where Sunny offered a quick batting lesson to a group of five adorable and spunky children, and aspiring cricketers.

With the sun quickly setting, our driver picked up the pace, and the next 10 minutes were a Thar Desert roller coaster dune ride. As we approached, an amber hue was cast over our tents. Nearby, seven camels awaited mounting by Sunny and the Sinha Six. Ronna and Rick, worried about a HUMPty Dumpty-like fall, were surprised at the relative (to horseback) comfort of these legendary waterbearers. Susie did her best imitation of a rodeo queen as her one-humped bronco bucked its way up. We rode up the dunes and into the sunset, then briefly dismounted for some well-timed photography and cocktails. Now a bit tipsy, we found ourselves perfectly in synch with our Cheney-smirked dromedaries, as we descended the dunes to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

After a quick freshening up, candles lit our path as we trekked back up the dune barefoot to our bar and candlelit dinner. Atop the dunes, we were joined by a troupe of local musicians and dancers, including a few gents from the opium den (still smiling under their handlebar mustaches) and a 3 year-old Indian version of Michael Jackson, with a cherub’s face and a green sports jacket. The women dancers showed us how to shake our booties, Thar Desert style, but none of us attempted to imitate how one picked up a dollar with her mouth and two rings with her eyelids, while doing a back bend. Laura did her best Ginger Rogers impersonation, as we all danced an Indian hora together under the bright moonlight and star-studded sky, before settling down to dine on local desert specialties. After dinner, we showed our age by singing our favorite folk songs from the ‘60s around the campfire, ending each after one verse, as the words escaped our fond, but fading memories. We slept soundly and contentedly under three blankets in our chilly tents.