For years, I had dreamt of exploring incredible India, but at this time in my life, the prospect seemed elusive.

The reality was that Hubby and I were running a small business, which, in itself, was a daily adventure.

We had four children, making it even more challenging. And so the idea of flitting off to India for a few weeks on our own appeared to be out of our grasp.

And then it happened.

Attending a weekend travel expo in Sydney's Darling Harbour, we found a small Indian travel company, family owned and run, which specialised in designing affordable, individual itineraries to clients' requirements, and we were instantly hooked.

Now was our chance - there was a small window of opportunity to have someone babysit our children and our business so we grabbed it.

There was only one slight hiccup.It was June, and temperatures in India were sweltering.

Visiting India in June is not for the faint-hearted but we were undeterred.

Weather, no matter how uncomfortable, was not going to get in the way of our great travel adventure.

And so, in mid-June of 2007, we arrived in Mumbai.

The culture shock hit us like a brick. Over 12 million people in one city, a seething mass of humanity.

It was hot and noisy, and the air was thick with vehicle fumes and blasting car horns. Initially it was an assault on the senses but in relatively little time, we adjusted because it was so utterly different, so vibrant and exciting.

Wherever you walked in the streets there were food vendors, sweet tea vendors, snake charmers, richly coloured saris, people sleeping on the pavements, monkeys, and a distinct smell of spice.

And we loved it.

Over the ensuing two weeks, we travelled around Rajasthan, mainly in an old, breakdown-prone Ambassador, but also by motorboat, plane, elephant and camel.

The driver, Mr Shand, was a local tour guide, and I have written about him in an earlier story, A Tale Of Tourguides.

He was quite a character. He not only ensured by way of his terrifying driving that we had a hair-raising adventure, but he also spun us tales about various sites we passed by, which more often than not were completely made up on the spur of the moment.

"Is that a temple Mr Shand?"

"Oh yes, Miss Carol, that is a temple!"

We'd find out later it was a school.

He was however, scrupulous on timing, and would find the most crazy way to drive around the odd goat herd or donkey that dared get in his way.

Through potholes resembling mini mountain ranges, he forged ahead. Hence, a few hours spent here and there on our journey in various mechanical workshops with no aircon.

As I'm writing this memory I'm laughing. The sheer joy of it all, now, as I look back! Wasn't so joyful at the time.

Throughout our trip, we ate the most amazing, predominantly vegetarian food - our favourite being the Thali, a platter with small bowls consisting of rice, lentils, curries, pickles, raita and pappadums or roti.

We drank, generally warmish, beers and G&Ts. Apparently, refrigeration couldn't quite keep up with the weather. And ice was rare.

As we made our way from Mumbai to Udaipur, to Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Bikaner close to the border with Kashmir, Jaipur, Agra and Delhi, we slept overnight in Maharajah's palaces and merchant's houses, called Havelis, paying a pittance, as we were generally the only occupants; tourists usually don't like temperatures in excess of 50C.

One night we had to wait until after 8.30pm to eat our evening meal; staff needed the temperature to drop to 45C before they could prepare our meal. We were the only guests .

We visited temples and gardens and forts and tombs and stupas and museums.

We saw precious stone jewellers and miniature painters working at their trades, and holy men in the lotus position, praying beside the Mother Ganges, while a funeral pyre sent flames and smoke soaring high above the river.

We saw the sun rise above the Taj Mahal, and were astounded by the beauty of this special place. No photograph or video will ever do it justice, it is magnificent.

But it was the people we remember most. Young men, university graduates guiding us through palaces and forts, and also talking to us about their family lives and customs; little children in the streets, carrying tiny babies, and begging; gorgeous saris; traders selling all manner of goods, and inviting us to haggle.

And we had some fun with these traders.

Now I know what you're thinking. Haggling over already cheap prices is horrid. In actual fact, haggling is expected, and Indian traders and shopkeepers are highly talented, play us like fish, and generally come out on top. Or at least with us they did. Every time.

Except for the following funny incident.

There we were in a vast market which sold silk items, scarves and pashminas. We were very obviously tourists. A young Indian man, who appeared to be the store owner, swaggered over to my husband and started a conversation . He asked if we were Aussies, and when my hubby said yes, he immediately started talking about cricket.

This was not a new thing to us. Everywhere we went in India, if we were recognised as being Aussie, the next topic of conversation was cricket. And fortunately we both love the sport.

The young man had the gift of the gab and was boasting to us that he was the greatest fast bowler in Rajasthan.He was quite a legend. In his own mind.

Without batting an eye, and with a straight face, my hubby retorted that he was, in fact, Ricky Ponting's brother. The young man's posturing almost immediately turned to reverence. We left his shop having purchased many scarves, and leaving him awestruck.

On another cricket-related occasion, in fierce late afternoon heat we were set to ride camels in the Sam sand dunes in the midst of the Thar desert.

The young boys leading our very frisky camels were far from friendly. In fact, they were totally silent,almost hostile ... until cricket was mentioned.

And hubby couldn't resist. He became Ponting's brother for the second time. Well, those boys became as frisky as the camels! And there was nothing they didn't know, stats wise, about any of our current Aussie cricketers.

We were instant besties, ah, the power of sport! And the power of being related to an Aussie cricket legend, even if this was not in any way true.

Incredible, exotic, amazing India was a two-week sensory experience . We learned, we laughed, we most certainly sweated our way around Rajasthan, and to this day, when I hear the name Ricky Ponting, I smile.

By Carol Goddard