Tordi - the Village No One has Heard Of

JUNE 26, 2017 

What could top the Taj? Visiting a teeny village that no one has ever heard of before (in truth, this stopping point was a main reason that I signed up for this trip). Yesterday morning we went to the bus station to start our journey to Tordi, a small Rajasthani village 3 hours outside of Jaipur. By small, I mean a population of 4,000 people. And by bus stop, I mean an unmarked patch of dirt outside some random hotel on an unmarked road somewhere in Agra. You could tell it was a bus stop because was a single bus there and a stand selling chai and cookies (sarcastic font).

We rode the local, un-air conditioned bus for 5 hours (stopping for ice cream about half way through). The bus we were on went straight to Jaipur, so around noon, the bus pulled over to the side of the highway so our group could hop off and get on the private van (with AC) that would take us to Tordi. After about 8 hours of travel, we arrived to this little village that looked exactly what you would image an old, small town in India to look like. The exception: a beautifully restored palace….which, incidentally, is where we spent the night.

After we settled in, we walked around the town. Many of the older buildings are painted a Brahmin blue, the color of paint used on many of the old houses of India’s priestly caste. We were a very popular bunch, given that we are all white (and women). I think there was equally as much interest in others taking our picture as we were in taking theirs (even though half the time they didn’t have cameras of their own to use). Children would run up and ask to get a picture together or would pose bashfully, even though you could tell they were excited. 

We went to visit a local potter who demonstrated his craft. Watching someone who has mastered their craft a work is kind-of mesmerizing. Particularly when it is done in an older fashion -- the pottery wheel was a large, circular stone suspended on something. When the wheel slowed, he grabbed a stick, stuck it in a notch on the wheel, and spun it vigorously. I don’t think I have ever seen arms move that fast.

We got an appreciation for how difficult his work is. When the potter was at the wheel, the clay always moved exactly as he wanted, and with such ease. He gave us a chance to try out hand at sculpting the most basic of bowls. On my first try, the pot exploded mid-sculpting. Clay flew everywhere...and broke one of the recently sculpted bowls. I managed a not-too-lopsided bowl on my second try.

As no day would be complete without chai, we climbed a sand dune in the late afternoon to enjoy the quiet of the desert with biscuits and a cup of tea. There were a handful of locals there, too, so we spent a good portion of our time taking selfies, as well.

In the evening, as we waited for dinner, we sat on the balcony and had a music war with some local who had impressively loud speakers. We lost the battle, as their music (apparently a bunch of religious songs) raged on until well past 11pm...and continued even when the entire town lost power. As we sat, we watched a storm roll in in the distance. For almost 2 hours, the sky lit up non-stop with bolt after bolt of lightning. I half expected a giant tiger to make an appearance in the sky and speak ominously about a diamond in the ruff (Aladdin style).

After dinner, our guide had arranged for some “women” from the town to come and decorate our hands with henna. He neglected to mention that “women” means girls who were maybe 12 years old, and they worked until about midnight. We paid them about $2.50 per hand. The whole situation was a little awkward, but I seemed to be the only one who thought so.

In the morning, we woke up before dawn and climbed a small mountain to an old fort where we watched the sun rise…...and drank chai, because how could we not?