Bikaner: Peace, love, and holy rodents

India, despite its long history of political and religious conflicts, is the most harmonious place I have ever been. A city thoroughfare is politely shared by moped-like taxis (rickshaws), camels and donkeys pulling carts, tiny cars and large delivery trucks. There is a lot of horn blowing; not New York City “get out of the way jackass” honking, but polite little beeps that say “hello” or “please move your camel to the left”. Phool Singh, our driver, uses a sort of human GPS system, cheaper and more effective than a Garmin, and when there is a road closure he pulls up next to a local who happily points him in the right direction. On our way to Bikaner we saw lots of camels and trucks carrying green hay used to feed the sacred cows, a community shared responsibility. The cows apparently know they are sacred, because they boldly cross in front of cars and take naps in front of shops and cafes with a sense of self-importance. Drivers also break for sheep, goats and wild pigs that seem to have their own agendas and head decisively through town like they are late for important business meetings. I am a dog lover and was panicked that I was going to see mangy, starving, wild dogs everywhere. There are certainly a lot of dogs wandering around, but honestly they look well fed and cared for, many with cute faces and shiny coats that could land their pictures on the front of a Purina bag. Even the rats peacefully co-exist, but more on that later.

Our 3 hour trip was set to the hip-hop sound of Phool Singh’s Akon CD, so we got jiggy with it as we scooted down the road, singing along to “Mr. Lonely”, Phool’s favorite track. We stopped at a modern Hindi temple that was so art deco and funky, we thought we were pulling up to a water park or put-put course; embarrassing and illogical conclusions while traveling in the heart of Rajasthan. You enter the temple through a plaster lion’s mouth flanked by colorful statues of Hanuman, king of the monkeys and Vishnu, the god with four arms. After you get eaten by the lion, you pop out in a courtyard where Ganesh, the elephant headed God, is depicted in bright pink and about 30 feet tall. Ganesh supposedly lost his more human-like head during a tiff with his dad, Shiva. Shiva felt badly about the misunderstanding and be-heading, and gave him the head of the next live being that wandered by, in this case an elephant. It could have been worse; it could have been a rat, but again, wait for that story. From there you go up a steep ramp, crawl through a tunnel, where the God Krishna sits, blue-skinned and large and in charge, at least 40 feet high.

We arrived at the Hotel Sagawa in Bickaner, too late to see much but the rat temple. I know what you are thinking: “Whatchu talking ‘bout Willis?” That’s right, buckle up readers, we went to a rat temple. The Karni Mahta temple is inhabited by 1000’s of kabas (holy rodents). The temple itself is a pretty, wide-open, black and white tiled courtyard with holy rooms branching off. There are more rats than in the labs at L’Oreal and Estee Lauder combined, running across the scrolled gates, up and down the marble steps and into holes in the tile. They are fed and cared for by a local family and are brought treats and sweets by the Hindi worshippers. We reluctantly ditched our Nikes to go inside (standard for all temples), and while it’s considered auspicious for a rat to run across your feet, it is freaky as hell. The locals come in droves to worship, cool as cucumbers, walking in bare feet among the rats, making offerings to the kabas, and sitting nonchalantly on the steps as the rats run across their laps. Only our desire to be respectful of the Hindis kept us from screaming like teenagers at a Jonas Brothers concert. We danced around in socks, grabbing on to each other’s arms, and trying our damndest not to have an all out panic attack. The best part, besides having a totally unforgettable and cool experience, was that Erin saw the elusive white rat, which will grant her good luck for the year. Let’s hope she is lucky enough not to see another rat for a really long time.