Souri's Relief Riders in Rajasthan

"You did not stroke the sweat on the taut bodies of the Marwari horses..." (Preeti Verma Lal)

By Preeti Verma Lal - Let the eulogies and the travelogue wait; let’s begin with happiness and defiance. No, I am no Nietzsche defying God, I just want to defy litterateur Graham Greene who vociferously refutes that one man can arrange another’s happiness. “No one can arrange another’s happiness”: That’s ripped straight out of the sepia pages of The Heart of the Matter. Ah! Mr Greene, you stand corrected. Happiness can be arranged. But how would you know? You missed travelling with Alexander Souri and his Souri's Relief Riders in Rajasthan. You did not stroke the sweat on the taut bodies of the Marwari horses, you did not hear the blessings that an old wrinkled man whispered when Souri gave him goats for sustenance, nor did the tears of a doddering, nearly-blind woman who was treated at a medical camp in an unlamented village fall on your grave Mr Greene. What’s more, you ignored Souri’s heartbeat when a little, unkempt school kid gave him flowers and said a hushed ‘thank you.’ You missed it all Mr Greene. Another person’s happiness can be arranged. I saw Alexander Souri do that. Just that you weren’t there Mr Greene. Bad luck!

Forget happiness, you also missed the fun – riding on honey-colored horses that had rumps like planets, staying like Neanderthals in tents and behaving like royalty in ancient forts, you missed walking barefoot on the silken sand to watch the ants plod, the spiders web an orb at night and the cacti crack the earth, you missed picking marigolds and loofahs from the wild, you would have loved the sumptuous meals and your jaw would have fallen when the fire-eater ate, well, fire.

"Another person’s happiness can be arranged." (Preeti Verma Lal)

All right, all right, there were scary moments too – when the marauding blue bulls came too close to the lake where the tents were pitched, when the sandstorm nearly blew our tents away and when the camel cart went wayward and I was stranded in the middle of nowhere. That also happened. I twitched my back pushing the jeep off the stubborn sand and when my expensive Nike broke its seams, I tied its flapping sole with long dry grass. That also happened. I also heard the rumble from the camel’s rear – believe me, it is pretty raucous and smelly!

It all happened when I travelled with the Relief Riders (www.reliefridersinternational.com). It all began with one man’s dream, a man from Great Barrington, Massachusetts, who has worked on the special effects of The Matrix and X-Men, has produced promotional films in China and managed special events for Cannes, Sundance and Venice film festivals. That man is called Alexander Souri, he is the founder-director of Relief Riders International (RRI); he also has deep-set eyes and that rich baritone in his voice. He had all the necessary glitter in life, but when his father died he rummaged his soul for answers, he wanted to give back, to pay a tribute to his father and his country, India. And one day he found an alibi to repay Heaven for its blessings when he founded RRI and conceived of the unique adventure plus relief combo, an itinerary not many have scrolled before.

"[R]iding on honey-colored horses that had rumps like planets..." (Preeti Verma Lal)

The dream turned into a caper one October morning on the porch of New Delhi’s Imperial Hotel, when the autumn’s yellow lay unfeigned, the sun was solicitous and bags were tagged, counted and dumped on a small bus. Yes, there were the riders from the US and France – a strapping horse-whisperer, a perky interior decorator, a solemn lawyer, a groggy photographer, a sincere ayurveda doctor and stringing the people and logistics was an indefatigable Souri. In between stood I in a red dungaree trying to decipher and partake in the conversation that flowed in accented English, French, Tamil, Hindi and the dialect of the chauffeur, the banter shifting from Falabella horses, marriage, rowdy kids and the zen of motorcycle maintenance.

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