“Fort Khejarla offers guests an enlivening experience.” India

Trip Advisor gives it a good rating.

“Fort Khejarla offers guests an enlivening experience,”says the official website.

I still think of it as the hotel that tried to kill me.

Well, shock and asphyxiate me; “kill” might be a bit extreme.

I was looking forward to our stay at the heritage “resort”, Fort Khejarla Hotel, 85 km east of Jodhpur in Rajasthan. My husband and I had stayed in a couple of old palaces on an earlier tour through Northern India and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. On this trip, I was travelling with a photographic group under the tutelage of photographer Karl Grobl and the watchful eye of local guide DV Singh.

I was thrilled with my room: cool marble floors, a four-poster bed all to myself, and even a sitting alcove, complete with velvet-covered antique furniture. I bounded out of the suite and crossed into the courtyard, where a shoemaker was selling his wares. I bought slippers for my absent husband and an embroidered silk jacket for myself before checking at the office for a hairdryer.

Back in my room after dinner, I slipped off my shoes and went to wash my face. The light switch zapped me. I tried to turn on the water at the sink: the taps shocked me. I called for a technician, who finally arrived in his black patent shoes and shiny blue pants. Of course, the electrically charged particles ignored him.

He turned on the shower water; I put my hand towards it and you could see the electricity arcing towards me. “Ah,” said the technician (translated by DV), “it’s because you have bare feet!”

They decided the mini-electric water-heater might be to blame, and installed me in the room next door. Not as nice, but less “shocking”.

Or so I thought.

While working on my computer, I noticed a funny smell – which I’d previously attributed to an oil burner left in the room – coming from the bathroom. The hair dryer which they had lent me was on fire, and it had attacked my waterproof plastic toiletry bag. Before long, toxic fumes were choking me, the fire was spreading, and I was despairing of anyone hearing my cries for help as I attempted to smother the flames with towels.

That I am still here clearly indicates I was eventually heard. The fire in my room was dealt with as I sat, like a limp, soot-blackened rag-doll, raspy-voiced and quite exhausted, in the courtyard outside my room.

The next room I was given was a palatial suite in the newer sections of the building. I retrieved what was left of my toiletries and finally got my shower and hair-wash before tumbling, completely worn out, into bed.

Of course, photo trips sleep in for no one. Bright and early the next morning, I was out in the streets of the modest surrounding community with my camera, making portraits wherever I could find them. Even with no voice, I had no trouble gaining consent from the friendly people of Khejarla.

Join me for a walk through town, and some street portraits – Indian style.

I enjoyed my time in the streets of Khejarla; it was engaging without being too “enlivening”.

Until next time ~

Namaste!

Pictures: 11Nobember2013