Today I'm 43. Not many people get to spend their birthday looking at thousand-year-old porn. But some of us are just lucky, I guess. Khajaraho is an incredible if peculiar experience. Located far away from a river or any other vantage point that usually defines the placement of settlements, it is pretty remote – possibly for the very reason that to get there requires some kind of pilgrimage. There is very little known about the history of the temples but history was never my strong point. Erotica on the other hand… We were limited to filming in and around two temples and it has to be said that they are incredible. The larger of the two, the Lakshmi temple looks likes something from a Kurt Geiger drawing from a distance. Almost alien in appearance it is only when you get close up that you see the hundreds of erotic carvings adorning the exterior. These range from subtle male/female coupling to foursome shagging and beastiality. What was impressive was the detail and accuracy of the carvings – regardless of the activity they were involved in. Considering how long ago these temples were built, the artistry is extremely impressive. (I'm hoping these observations make me sound slightly less of a perv.)
What spoilt Khajarho was the street peddlers and rickshaw drivers hounding us for business and trying to flog us Karma Sutra playing cards and bead necklaces. They are so persistent that they pester you like flies and refuse to take polite hints to p**s off!
While we were taking in the porn – I mean, erotic carvings – our li’l lady was undergoing a spinal operation after we found out that she had slipped a disk. Actually, part of the chassis had broken under the hefty pothole treatment we’d been putting her through and she was listing badly to one side. In the meantime, I was treated to a birthday cake and a very thoughtful present from the crew – a keyring depicting a spit-roast threesome a la the temple carvings. Delightful!
With the welding sorted and a bag of grapes in hand, we went to pick up our rickshaw and hit the road immediately heading for Rewa. The ever-changing landscape continued to surprise us with lush fields giving way to jungle-esque forestry. We also managed to sneak a bottle of chilled Fosters into the rickshaw just to prolong the birthday mood. Don’t ask me why but as we knew we wouldn’t be having a party, we decided to liven up the ride with the girls digging out the make-up and making me look like a cross between Jafar in Aladdin and a pirate of the Caribbean.
We only had one slight problem: a couple of kilometres after our daily re-fuel we came to a spluttering halt by the roadside having seem clouds of grey smoke coming from the exhaust. Being a biker I knew immediately what it was - the oil had not been properly mixed with the petrol and a two-stroke engine can't run on oil alone. However, every man and his dog was trying to tell us in broken English and sign language that it was a gasket or the spark plug was knackered. One guy who was apparently a mechanic started to take over. It was no use arguing, so I let him, although I did start to get annoyed with him. Eventually I replaced the spark plug (because the other one was covered in oil) thanked everyone through gritted teeth and did a piece to camera about the incident - all the time forgetting that I looked like a pantomime villain. What a tit!
Once we arrived at our hotel in Rewa, I spent the next 45 minutes trying to find some way of phoning my wife, which proved to be far more troublesome than I’d expected, finally ending up using a dodgy Skype connection to speak. It was after that conversation that I realised how much I was missing her. She is an adventurous woman but like me, India was never really high on our list of destinations to explore. I am really looking forward to seeing her again.
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