It's Good to be the Maharaja

Yesterday in the 110° temperature, Ilana and I toured the giant fort Mehreghar, built into a mountain above the blue city of Jodhpur. It was so hot that my eyeballs were melting. All I remember from the tour was a few brief anecdotes. When the king died the queen would, as she walked toward his burning pyre, she would mark the walls with a vermilion handprint, then give away all her gold and silver baubles, and then climb up on his burning pyre and sacrifice herself without any signs of pain.  The entrance to the fort, which has never fallen, is at a right angle turn with spikes about 10 feet up. This was so that a charging elephant wouldn't be able to gain speed as it tried to ram into the gate.  There was also the story of when a recent maharajah became a king at the age of four. In the ceremony each visiting guest made a gift to the new king. He then gave each gift to the following person, passing the gifts down from person to person. With this gesture he became reknown for his generosity and kindness toward the people.
This morning I ate for two hours straight at our all you can eat buffet. It was not easy to eat for two hours straight, but like a good distance runner, I paced myself and push through to the end.
We have a five hour bus ride to Udaipur this afternoon.
I heard a great quote from a wise fellow traveler. It went something like this: in India never trust a fart is just a fart.