Guiding Lights of Various Wattage

In every city we are assigned a guide. These men, they are all men, are well dressed and well spoken; their English is very good, particularly in the larger cities. Most of them are extremely well educated, some to the Master’s level, but the competition for high-prestige government or university jobs is incredibly intense, and most have to work as guides for the tourist trade to earn a living.

They are all local men, and some glad-hand everyone they meet. A few of them are very busy and very important, and we know this because they tell us. We ask them about themselves and their families, of which they are happy to talk.

One of them hails from the northern reaches of Rajasthan, deep in the Thar desert and not far from the Pakistan border. He still has a farm there with 7 camels – his favourite camel is called Honey – and his own sand dune. One was very scholarly and wanted to get his PhD, but has two school-aged boys who need the usual things school-aged boys need. One is a new grandfather, and one is going to 7 weddings in one day. One of them did not stop drinking copious amounts of water and his pants were falling down because he has lost so much weight. We are worried about this guy.

They answer all our questions, a few sort of phone it in as the sites are the same for all travellers, but a few add a bit of spark. Some will buy us a chai, and all will, at some point in the tour, take us to a special place for handicrafts. They no doubt get a commission for bringing foreigners to their shop. To be fair, some of these places really are interesting, with craftsmen following in their father’s and grandfather’s and further than that footsteps, especially if those forefathers had worked for the royal households. We see detailed miniatures being painted with paint they make themselves of crushed minerals and with brushes so fine they are one hair thick, or pieta dura, where semi-precious pieces are inlaid with precision into marble, or spice mixtures being hand prepared by crushing spices in novel proportions. We look, we ask questions, we drink the chai they offer but we don’t buy much.

At the end of our tour, whether it’s one day, two days or longer, they beam with smiles, hope we’ve had a lovely time, wish us well, and accept the tip we palm them. It’s a lovely little dance, and everyone gets what they wanted.