From Princess to Pauper

I have gone from Princess to Pauper in 24 short hours. We left the lap of luxury around noon and took a pre-ordered rickshaw to the bus stand. Rickshaws do not generally frequent the Lake Palace Jetty and, I have to say, ours looked distinctly out of place amongst the classic cars. The bus ride from Udaipur to Ajmer was just your run-of-the-mill bus rude. Mom and I have really gotten used to traveling via bus. You just have to stare out the window for hours and accept time is passing, slowly, even though it doesn’t seem like it. I have found my iPod to be a huge comfort.
Unfortunately, the bus ride was not the end of the journey. We were actually headed for Pushkar, not Ajmer. We got a rickshaw. Unfortunately, a tout jumped in as well before we could leave. We didn’t make a big deal about it; usually you just listen to what they have to say, then tell them you already have hotel/restaurant arrangements and they go away. So we didn’t make a big hue and cry about it, just ignored him for the most part. But halfway up the first hill he turned around and said that one of our bags was gone. Sure enough, my suitcase was no longer sitting next to Mom’s in the back of the rickshaw. Mom and I both suspect foul play; we agree that it is very likely that the tout pushed it. There were several indicators. First of all, I just didn’t like the feel of him – he felt a bit slimy. I know that this is hardly evidence, but gut instincts should sometimes be followed and if Mom and I had been more awake, and hadn’t been feeling a bit sick, we would probably have had our guards up. He also, however, noticed the tag on the suitcase that said Lake Palace and commented on it. And when we were looking for it he asked if I had any jewelry in it. The rickshaw driver also seemed a bit more nervous than absolutely necessary and kept asking Mom to give up when she was walking along the road looking for tracks.
At one point while Mom was walking a group of young men surrounded the rickshaw and began asking questions rather aggressively. They seemed to be the local gang. Then they hopped into the rickshaw also, to “help”, but got out after a just a little while. They seemed a bit too familiar with the tout. I was really wishing I was more fluent in Hindi at this point because all I could catch was “one bag” and random verbs.
We did report the loss at the police station, but the officer didn’t seem particularly hopeful, although he said they would look. Mom didn’t say anything about the tout because he accompanied her into the station. Of course, I could be wrong. It seems likely that it was stolen because we didn’t find it. But it wasn’t necessarily planned. Some impoverished person could have found a deserted suitcase by the side of the road and seen little wrong with using somebody else’s misfortune to feed and clothe their family. I hope that this was the case and that it really does benefit someone who needs it.
Luckily, nothing valuable was in the suitcase so this is an inconvenience and a nuisance more than a real problem. All my money was on my money belt under my clothes and my iPod and camera were in my backpack which serves as a purse when traveling. And Mom had my passport. Thank goodness. Also in my backpack were all my allergy/asthma medicines, my journal with all my friends’ contact information and my random doodles and notes, and my toiletries bag. So I’m not that badly off, really. One of the great things about saris is that they are “one size fits all”, so I can borrow Mom’s.
I did lose a few things that I will miss, though. I really liked my beautifully embroidered camel-hide shoes, my new bedspread, the wooden Om I’d carved for my brother at VKV, some knives (one was a real Damascus blade with a horse-head pommel and silver inlay – a perfect Eleanor weapon) and the mortar and pestle Sarath gave me. That is entirely due to sentimental value; he’d given it to me to prepare a particular medicine but when I finished that medicine, he said I should keep it just in case I needed a mortar and pestle while traveling in India. Whenever I rearranged my suitcase and saw it, I would burst out laughing and happily remember all those hours at the hospital in good company. The terrible thing about belongings with sentimental value is that they can’t really be replaced. I was also somewhat miffed to lose my hiking boots. Honestly! I had lugged those silly boots around India so I could go hiking in the Himalayas. (And let me tell you, they take up lots of space and are not light.) And one week before I finally get to use them, they are gone. Ah well, life happens and then we move on.
So that’s how it happened; how Eleanor went from the Good Life to having next to nothing. I guess I got what I deserved for wishing for adventures.