Day 8- Achanakmar - Sirpur

We have been on the road for 8 days now, one day merging into the next. On the ninth day of our trip, I am sitting in the quiet courtyard garden in our resort at Sirpur, catching up on my writing. It is nearly 8 am and I have spent the better part of the last hour with my trusty Ipad, ensconced on a wrought iron bench with a finch and a thermos for company.

Yesterday, day 8 of our journey, we traveled 300 kilometres, beginning with a quick morning blast through the Achanakmar sanctuary, followed by a set of single lane highways graced with mustard fields, a high-speed section on a newly constructed dual carriage way, and finally, a muddy track leading to our resort. We covered the distance in a good seven hours, which is fair for this part of the country, give or take a diversion or three.

Sirpur is a one-horse town. There's a tiny market, no ATM, probably a bank and basic postal facilities. Thee town is best known for its excavations of ancient temples and a township that existed here aeons ago. Most sites are open from sunrise to sunset and hence an early start is a must. By around 4.30 pm, it's dusk and by 5.30, completely dark.

We had barely an hour of sunlight in hand. The lady at the tourist office casually mentioned that we could see the entire town in 2 hours. If you are a point-and-shoot, been there, Facebooked that kind of tourist, probably so. But for someone like me who can infuriate the most patient guide with his curiosity and desire to explore every nook and cranny, a few days is more like it.

There are temples by the now almost dry section of the Mahanadi river that may not necessarily have the same level of sophistication of the temples further inland, but the location makes up for it all. Set on the river bank, these temples are the embodiment of tranquility, and that is where our 'touristy' day ended.

The rest of the evening ranged from the sublime to the mundane. The much overdue activity of washing underwear and socks in a town that has no laundry facilities, followed by a set of calisthenics to find various perches on which they could be hung to dry. We spent an hour in the very same courtyard, with a picnic mat spread on the damp grass, a glass of Mahua and Nusrat for company. What more can one ask for?