Amazing Quest: Stories from Rajasthan | Somewhere on Earth: Rajasthan, India | Free Documentary

Somewhere on earth is off to discover Rajasthan. This land rich in history embodies all the magic of India. Located in the north of the country, Rajasthan is bordered by arid plains and mountains. It's the ancestral land of the Maharajas, the last Rajput horsemen and desert tribes. Pabu was born in the Tar Desert. He never left these steps of his childhood. Pabu belongs to the tribe of the Beals, the hunters. He has worked tirelessly at bettering the lives of the women and men of his community, the untouchables of the Tar Desert. Geraldine, on her legendary motorcycle, rides the roads of India and Rajasthan. After traveling in the US and Australia, this young French woman from Normandy landed in New Delhi. India, which she explores every day, has changed her life. Ajit is a horseman, a descendant of Rajasthan's warriors, the Rajputs, literally sons of kings. At 32 years old, he's continuing on the path of his family for eight generations. Ajit is an ardent defender of the Marwaris, the horses of Rajasthan that nearly became extinct. Here, we are at peace. All around us, there is only peace. I feel happy here with my most loyal and best friend, my horse. This is a great moment for us. The Tar, India's great desert. It's situated in the northwest of India near the Pakistani border. This expanse of sand, rock, and dust is the realm of scorching winds and storms that can obliterate everything. This is a territory of desolation, glacial cold in winter, and blinding heat the rest of the time. Man has always known that deserts have no sense of hospitality, and yet the Tar is the world's most populated desert. Those who live here call it Marustali, the land of death. Pabu, a former nomad, is a man of the desert. He is an untouchable of the hunter's tribe, the Beels, one of the lowest on the social scale. His life is hard, but Pabu is a happy man. The desert is part of him, and he is part of the desert. Nomad, big-hearted, free, and a musician. The jaw's harp, the oldest instrument in the world, keeps him company during his solitary nights in the desert. All the desert people, my uncles, my dad, they all play this instrument. When they're tending to their herds and they're on the move, they always carry one. And even if you don't know how to play, you carry it anyway, and you learn as you go along that you don't feel so alone. It's part of the people's life here. Pabu has taken Gandhi's words to heart. Everything that you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it. With the energy of his convictions and the daring of his dreams, Pabu is striving to find any and every means of helping his community of untouchables. In 2007, Pabu founded Malinbai, an NGO for tutoring schoolchildren and helping craftsmen and nomads, India's lowest social ranks. And so Pabu gave new life to the traditional crafts. He has agreed to buy what the artisans produce, rugs, potteries, cloth, which he then sells in Jaisalmer, the major city of the desert. He is the only potter around Jaisalmer. The other potters are over 100 kilometers away. So if the villagers buy a pot there, it may break on the way back. That's why they're very happy to be able to buy a pot here. I have to travel very far, so I have to be very careful not to break any on the way. So I really have to test them well. Otherwise, my mother will complain to me. What have you done? It wasn't worth paying for. You hear that sound? You hear it? You can tell it's good by that sound. This one's good. Pabu gives work to the poorest people living off in the far corners of the Tar Desert. Today, he has come to pick up some pots for his family and place a larger order of pottery. Like many nomadic families, Pabu's has become sedentary. He's off to visit his mother and to get to her village, and she has two hours of driving on trails across the arid steppe. It's a very, very good car to use in the desert. It can carry 10 people, sometimes 11, sometimes even more, because these people are all your family, you know? So nobody minds being crowded, really. It never breaks down, and if it happens to get stuck in the sand, you ask the whole family to push, no problems. So you can say that the rickshaw is really useful for the desert people here. Here, I brought you some pots. They come from the village of your ancestors. I bought them in Ada. I'm so glad to visit my family and bring them the pots, because what they really need here, in the desert, is to keep the water cool, and summer is coming, and in a month, it'll be really, really hot. So I brought pots from my mother. That first one there, that's for water, and these other two here are for making yogurt, and with the yogurt, we can make butter. It is vital for those living in the desert to help one another out. It's a question of survival for the untouchables. This is the deep sense of Pabu's commitment in this harsh land where life is a struggle. Before, the untouchables, considered impure, were not allowed to draw water from the village wells. This is no longer the case. However, in the Tar Desert, the people at the bottom of the social ladder are still victims of injustice and even violence. This is my dad's grave, but also my grandmother and my grandfather's graves. They don't respect the dead nor the graves. Look, look what they did. They can't stand us, not even our graves. It's just as if they killed me when I see all this. How can I tell you how I feel? I'm really, really sad about this. I never could have expected anything like this to happen. I can't believe this. This should never, never be. I'm in true despair, really. It's just incredible what they did. My God. Pabu never loses hope. He possesses the strength of humility. In the middle of the desert, the humanitarian actions carried out by his association give him heart. In Rajasthan, the traditions linger on more than in other parts of India. Castes were abolished in 1950 after the country became independent, but the feeling of belonging to this hierarchical system is still deeply ingrained in the people's minds. Little by little, Pabu is building a reputation around Jezalmer. He's the one who helps the untouchables. There are dozens of abandoned villages along the former spice and silk roads. The houses used to be inhabited by Brahmans, the caste of priests and scholars, the highest in the social order. A few untouchables have moved in. Pabu encourages them to carry on their traditional arts and crafts. His association, Malanbai, is a life-giving force here in the Thar Desert. I used to live in a different village along with four or five other families. We would make a kind of mixture, a resin for incense. We would come here to harvest it, and one day I just stayed and started working on my loom again. My grandfather taught this skill to my father and he taught it to me. I've picked up weaving again, and now I'm the one carrying on the tradition. The first carpet he made wasn't too good because in over 20 years, he had forgotten a lot, but not everything. And then he got better and better, and now even the villagers come by and they say, oh, you're back, that's great. You're following in your father's footsteps. He would be very proud of you. There has been water here for centuries. Existence revolves around a well. Life can take hold again in this abandoned village. Pabu has high hopes that his work will allow the villagers to settle here permanently in spite of the harsh desert conditions. I come to fetch water every day. The jug has no time to rest. There are no other wells around here, so there are families from five or six different villages that all come to fetch water here. Hindu families, Muslim families, they sometimes come almost 10 kilometers away to get water here. They come on foot, by camel, or with whatever animal they have, even a donkey. This goat is not doing well. It's not doing well. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. These nomads had to give up their wandering life. With Pabu's help, they've brought this corner of the desert back to life. Today, they're preparing for a ceremony to welcome a newborn baby into the world. The Tar Desert is the original birthplace of all the world's Romanis. More than 1,000 years ago, they set out from this bleak region on their voyages crisscrossing the globe. Every day in these arid steppes of northern India, children are born, learn how to walk, to speak, to sing, and to fight for survival. It's important to have a boy. This big ceremony is for him. The mother already had four girls, so a boy is a joy for us. So we're going to make offerings. Today, the baby gets his name. It's a very big day. According to tradition, the shaman chooses the name and whispers it into the baby's ear. The newborn baby is called Jabra. He's a new son of the desert. The harshness of these vast open spaces gives the force to create a new life. Pabu's commitment to others is a promise that he renews every day, and he is always ready to take up the challenge of the desert. According to the words of Gandhi, everything that you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it. Animals give energy to us, so do the trees. Water dispenses life. Even when it's mixed with sand, it builds our strength. There's no better place for us. We were born here. Our blood is connected to nature here. When I say nature, I mean desert. That's what we love the most, the desert. We are all part of the desert here. Where is the next village where I can go for... Geraldine is an adventurer. Here in India, she's living out her passion for travel. At 27 years old, this young woman from Normandy organizes motorcycle tours. Now she's scouting Rajasthan for new circuits to offer her clients, bikers like her in love with India's most enchanting side. English, English? No English? It looks good. I've been waiting a long time. I hope they understood what I want. Otherwise, we're up a creek. Wow. Daniel, well done. What a helper. Very nice. It was a bit rough to get there, but it didn't turn out too bad after all. It went very well, in fact. We'll probably share a tea afterwards. Riding in India, like Geraldine is doing, is a trip back in time. Udaipur, Jodhpur, Ajmer, Jaipur, just the names of these ancient royal cities of Rajasthan is a whiff of exoticism and a call to travel. This state in the Northwest is a vast region in the image of India itself, the planet's second most populated country. Every year, Geraldine covers thousands of kilometers on her bike. Her territory, Rajasthan, Ladakh, Nepal, Kerala. Geraldine is scouting out new circuits. Now she's on her way to the Ambanna Temple, the goal of this reconnaissance trip. About 400 kilometers away, somewhere between Udaipur and Jodhpur, it has become a holy site dedicated to the motorcycle god. Seeing Geraldine pass through these remote villages is quite a surprise for the locals. A woman traveling alone never fails to arouse curiosity. India is a country where women's emancipation and advancement are an ongoing struggle. Namaste ji, Kumbhalgarh, possible this way? Yeah? So, this is Kumbhalgarh, okay? I'm trying to find my way. I'm looking for back roads, so the idea is to roam free. That's the charm of the motorcycle. Six months ago, it was a very isolated village. You could reach it only by rocky trails. And now they've built an asphalt road. It's much easier to get there. This road is a chance to flesh out the circuits. I can pass through new places where people are still surprised to see me. You wanna go? It takes pluck to satisfy a yearning for adventure. On Rajasthan's trails and back roads, Geraldine is perhaps touching the heart of the Indians, for whom a free, independent young woman is something of a rarity. I decided to go traveling, mainly in the USA and in Australia. From there, I came to India, initially because I had a great job offer, but also because India is such a colorful country. I had such a vivid image of it. I had no idea what I was in for. This place really touched me. I just fell in love with the country, with the motorcycle, and with an Indian man. This land of contrast and legend would change her life. Geraldine decided to settle here, and even get married. We're in the heart of the Aravali Mountains, a range that stretches 700 kilometers north to south, from Delhi to Gujarat. It's the only hilly part of Rajasthan. All the rest is plains and desert. The winding roads are a real treat for us bikers. It's a true privilege to be able to ride in a setting like this. You find yourself in landscapes that you could never have imagined. Just one hour riding and you're doing trails, and that's when you really appreciate it. You think, I've earned this. It's such a gift. You can easily get attached to the Royal Enfield. It was my very first motorcycle, so of course I have a soft spot for it. I also like it for other reasons. It has an incredible look. It makes this really wild noise. When we go through the little villages and out in the countryside, the people are delighted to see us on their motorcycle, because after all, it is the emblematic motorcycle of India. It's a very old bike. It has its vintage charm. Geraldine is riding a legend. She has found the ideal way of discovering this mythical country. The story of this motorcycle goes back to England in the late 19th century. At that time, it was manufactured in a factory that also made guns, revolvers, and ammunition. The slogan for the motorcycle was, made like a gun, runs like a bullet. During World War II, on D-Day, these motorcycles landed with the Allied forces on the Normandy beaches. After independence, the Indian army was equipped with Royal Enfield bullets. It was produced in the south of the country and became a symbol. For 7,000 kilometers away in Old England, the production was running out of steam and the world was changing. In the late 1960s, an Indian engineer bought the blueprints of the motorcycle. It's no longer an elderly English lady. The Royal Enfield became a young Indian woman and with its retro style, as timeless as India itself. Geraldine doesn't speak Hindi, one of the country's 22 official languages. In India, only a minority of the population understands English. In Rajasthan, the language barrier adds a little spice to her adventure, but Geraldine's motorcycle is an ideal passport. What I like the most here is the people. That's what keeps me here. When I look up to the side of the road, I see people with their faces just beaming with smiles. They try to stop us. Sometimes we'll give them a ride and drop them off five kilometers further on. Other times, we'll pick up school children who have to walk 10 kilometers every day. They're glad to get off. They're glad to get a ride. That's the thing I love here. It's something you can't find anywhere else on earth. You can't visit Rajasthan without hitting the big cities of this land where the heart of India beats. On her way to the holy temple of the motorcycle, Geraldine makes a halt in Udaipur. This city is an important stopover on the motorcycle tours she leads. Udaipur is a must for visitors in search of tales and wonders. Good morning. Good morning, sir. Geraldine is meeting one of the most respected men of the region, the Maharaja of Udaipur, a descendant of India's oldest family of aristocrats. The kings no longer play a part in politics. All the maharajas are responsible for opening their palaces to visitors. Oh, how nice. Yes. You live and you live for today. So whatever you do, you've got to make it relevant to today. What was relevant 100 years ago, our forefathers did. We have to do and we have to live in a manner which is relevant for today. Geraldine, along with some of the dignitaries of the city, has been invited to a special ceremony at the palace. The Maharaja is celebrating his birthday. In India, splendor and the extraordinary often exist side-by-side with the most modest lives. This is what Geraldine would like to bring others to discover. 400 kilometers later, she arrives at Ombana, a holy site, a temple dedicated to the motorcycle. Spirituality is everywhere in India. All superstitions, all miracles, are possible in this land where the gods number in the thousands. Hundreds of voyagers stop here every day. They come to solicit the protection of the god of bikers and the open road. Around 20 years ago on this spot, Ombana died riding a royal enfield. People say that after the accident, the motorcycle came back to the scene of the tragedy all on its own. This is why a temple has been erected on the side of the road here. Ever since, this motorcycle has been an object of worship. This is the famous enfield of the accident. It's an old bike, between 40 and 50 years old, and they haven't touched it. It's just as it was at the time. Everyone brings it offerings. They all come to deposit flowers, food, sweets, money. Any kind of offering is valid to be blessed with luck. Right, that's it, it's all about luck. Tum Tum Swaha, Om Lakshya Lakshya Swaha. Lakshya Lakshya Swaha, Lakshya Lakshya Swaha. I've been blessed. I can get back on the road at peace. At least for the next few weeks, I'll be protected. In India, tradition and modernity meet head on. It's a world where everyone's destiny is in the hands of the gods. For Geraldine, it's not only a country born from the realm of legends. She has found her part of the dream here as well. I'm waiting for Praveen, my future husband. We're going to continue the trip together. He shouldn't be long now. Hey, baby, how are you? For Geraldine, a new life is waiting just around the corner here in 21st century India. In a few months, you will marry Praveen, a Bollywood dancer from New Delhi. But that's another story. Ajit grew up in the land of the Rajputs, the warriors of Rajasthan. For centuries, the Rajputs fought alone against all comers. Their courage was unequaled, except by that of their mount, the Marwari horse. It's one of the oldest breeds of horses in the world. Had it not been for the passion of a few horse breeders, these Indian thoroughbreds might have well disappeared 30 years ago. According to the legend, the horses of Rajasthan were born of the vast ocean. As for the men, incredible, proud horsemen, they are the sons of the moon, fire and the sun. There are no words to describe this. There is energy all around us. And at the same time, it is very, very peaceful. There is peace everywhere and nothing else. I feel happy here with my most loyal and best friend, my horse. There is everything we need here. I go out riding every morning and even sometimes in the evening. These are the best moments of my life. I am enjoying this so much. I love. I enjoy reading ancient books as long as they have anything to do with horses. They are fascinating. And I try to apply that knowledge to my own activity. For instance, how to choose and buy a good horse and what their habits are, how to tame and train them. These old books are filled with excellent teachings written by famous horsemen from the old days, and their knowledge is still useful today. Horses are at the very core of our existence here. The blood of the Rajputs has been intimately linked to Rajasthan's history for over 1000 years. In Sanskrit, the name of this warrior caste means sons of kings. When they were not driving back the Muslim invaders, these horsemen were combating the Mughal armies, the descendants of Genghis Khan. And when they were not at war, the Rajputs were engaged in fratricidal feuds. Since ancestral times, they had been raising armies of horsemen, fearsome warriors serving the lords of India. Nobility of soul, a code of honor and chivalrous pride define the character of the Rajputs. In Rajasthan, the men and their horses have left their mark on history and bear witness to their illustrious exploits in war. Ajit is a worthy heir of this prestigious tradition. These ancient warriors were famous for their bravery. What would happen in those royal families when they waged war was that when one of them died on the battlefield, most of the kings had tombstones built in their memory. The kings would erect these monuments, these cenotaphs, in commemoration. On lake and riversides all over, one can observe these cenotaphs, impressive tombs of the Rajput warriors. Certain were erected in honor of the warriors' wives who committed sati by immolating themselves on their husband's funeral pyre. Sometimes when I have time and feel the need to find my inner calm, I come here with my horse. I guess I come here more or less twice a month. To see these warriors and their horses fills me with happiness. I come here to renew my energy, so it really does me good. I feel very, very happy here. The horse is considered a god in Indian mythology. It is superior to all men. The Marwari is a war horse, spirited, resistant, tough and dependable. Legend has it that the gods fought over this horse. Perhaps the horseman's eternal kingdom looks something like these semi-desert plains of Rajasthan. This is where Ajit lives. His ancestors settled in this dry riverbed more than 200 years ago. In Ajit's family, the men have been horsemen and breeders of thoroughbred Marwaris for eight generations. As you know, I was an assistant professor at the Udaipur University. There I got a PhD in Hindi literature. Unfortunately, in 2003, my father died in a car accident. At that point, I had a choice to make between two paths. The first one would lead me far away from horses. And the other one, far from my previous life working with horses. I decided to choose the path with the horses. It was the most difficult path, and it still is a hard one because we have lots and lots of problems. But then again, we are very proud of our trade. We are simply happy. Our ancestors from the previous generations must be happy with this choice as well, somewhere up there, because we still own horses and we still work with them. It is an unchanging ritual. Every morning, Ajit comes to say hello to his horses. He considers them his children and spends all his time on them. The ears are very important for the Marwari breed. They're curved inward and round. One can say curly ears or rounded ears. There's an old legend, a very, very old legend about that. There was a Rajput warrior. He was praying to the goddess Durga. The goddess was happy with the warrior and asked him what his fondest wish was. Because the warrior was crazy about his horse, he answered, I would like my horse to have something special. In particular, my horse's ears are not beautiful enough. I don't like his ears. So Durga asked her worshipper how he would like the ears to be. The warrior responded, I would like his ears to be like my mustache, curled up into a point. Durga granted his wish. And ever since, all the Marwari horses have ears like this. As you can see, the goddess did a wonderful job. Ajit and his horses are getting ready for a long voyage. Before each departure, he asks his mother for her protection. My mother's heart is fragile and worried for her son. May he return safe and sound. I give him my blessing. I tell him to hurry back and I tell him, be careful, my son. To support his horse farm and develop his business, Ajit organizes mounted processions and parades for weddings and the major religious celebrations. Every year, he and his horses cover thousands of kilometers through India and Rajasthan. Winter is the busy season for marriages and a variety of ceremonies. Ajit and his horses have just a few months to parade before the public. He does about 100 events a year. This ceremony you are witnessing is part of the Jain religion. They had an old temple that they just finished restoring. And today they are celebrating its inauguration. This celebration is going to last 14 days. Now, the Marwari horses are little by little recovering the place they formerly held in Indian society. In the exuberance of these traditional festivals, Ajit's horses mingle with the gaily colored dancers. At the end of the colonial period, the Marwari breed was on the threshold of extinction. The English had transformed this horse, the messenger of God, into a common beast of burden. In Rajasthan, this horse is an object of worship. They say that this Indian thoroughbred is the fruit of the union between a black stallion of the desert and a beautiful blonde-coated mare. In upper-class marriages, it is the custom for the groom to go meet his bride riding a white horse, the symbol of purity. The Marwari also embodies India's romantic spirit. The origin of the Marwari horse is lost in the mists of Rajasthan and its ancestral legends. Thanks to the work begun by his father, Ajit is now one of India's most ardent defenders of this horse. The Marwari breed used to be very common, but starting in 1910 and until 1940, they went through a very hard time. When the English were in charge of India, they tried to wipe the Marwari out. They wanted the royal families to give up the breeding of the Marwaris because they wanted to force us into taking on the occidental way of life. During those difficult years, the herds of Marwari horses were in severe decline, and now there are very few left. But we are trying our best to save the breed. Without the determination of a few horsemen, the last 500 specimens of Marwari horses would have gone the way of the dinosaurs. By perpetuating the race, Ajit has become a militant defender of the Rajput's chivalrous past.