Hey, Mister, your light is on!

Whereas I was previously greeted by waves when moving and mobs of locals when not, the most important message that is sent to me now is to 'warn' me that my headlight is on. For some reason or another, Indians never turn on their headlights during the day (and almost as rarely turn them on at night). Perhaps it's a power saving thing. In Europe, motorcyclists always ride with their lights on, and on my bike, it cannot even be switched off! This frustrates both the locals who wave their hands in a light bulb fashion to warn us and also me who is well aware of the fact that it is on! I have asked a couple of English speaking locals as to why they get so wound up about the lights affair but none can give me a halfway decent reason. Ho hum.
Riding across to Rajisthan, the colours of the saris, blowing in the wind against the backdrop of the desert sand were stunning. The horse and carts have been replaced by camels and the crowds of people from Delhi have faded away. Rural India seems to be much more traditional in terms of the clothing that people wear. The men wear shorts made from a sheet of fabric that is wrapped around their legs, loosely wrapped turbans in a full array of colours.
The main roads are well surfaced but veering off to a few short cuts lands us well off of the beaten track. The people now look genuinely amazed by the sight of our heavily loaded, oversized motorcycles. Whilst many of the children wave and call out as we pass by, others just look in shock! On these roads less frequented, the sand threatens to swallow them up. In places, all that is visible are tyre tracks. Sand riding on a motorbike is a novel experience to me as the tyres slip around, struggling to grip. The buildings look much more substantial than elsewhere. These are not rich people, but they are not living so densely. The houses are traditional, with curved walls and open cavities for windows.
Eventually, we pull into Jaisalmer, an intimate city in the West of India, within around 100km of Pakistan, which is overlooked by a fort. The alley ways are lined with shops and are perfect for meandering. Many of the hotels and restaurants have rooftops from which the fort can be viewed. This also relieves us from the busy streets with local shopkeepers pushing their wares.
Next stop was Jodhpur, around 300km back to the East. Jodhpur is significantly larger than Jaisalmer and is also overlooked by a fort. This is a much larger fort and is more or a tourist attraction than the fort at Jailsamer, where there is a town within the fort's walls. Jodhpur has a maze of narrow streets where rickshaws, motorcycles, pedestrians and shop-keepers shuffle for space. The true owners of the streets, though, are the cows. They take precedence over all and regularly stop in the middle of a congested alleyway for a lie down!
Around Jodhpur are a couple of other attractions such as Jaswant Thada, a marble memorial-come-temple to a Maharaja and Umaid Bhawan Palace, which is now a giant hotel.
Whilst in Jodhpur, a friend from home introduced me to a relative who lived locally. I was invited to join Mr and Mrs Gandhi and their family for dinner. To my delight, I was traditionally greeted by their son who marked a spot on my forehead, fed me a sweet biscuit and placed a flower necklace around me. After a more than ample feast, Mr Gandhi arranged for a press meeting and the next morning, my photograph, complete with commentary was on the front page of the local Rajasthan newspaper!