Jodhpur – The Timber Trawler

Jodhpur Journal: Three Discoveries At the Edge of the Thar

In October, during a brief illness, I got hooked on a book I had picked up in Udaipur in 2019 – Rajasthan: An Oral History, written by Rustom Bharucha, based on his conversations with the late Komal Kothari. Komal Kothari, who spent most of his prime documenting the folk music instruments, oral traditions and puppetry of Rajasthan, was instrumental in popularizing Managaniyar and Langa musicianship globally.

Komal Kothari’s insights into the relationship of the Rajasthani populace with their geography, natural elements, especially the arid stretches, their folk deities and folk traditions, as well as the intriguing interrelations amongst the various Rajasthani communities, left me in a trance. It was as if dormant connections to a distant past of mine were suddenly awakened. Besides, Komal Kothari lived in Jodhpur.

Now, since my 2019 outing to the Thar, Jodhpur had remained crouching in a corner of my mind. Mentions of Jodhpur anywhere, be it on social media, or television, or cinema, or by a friend, would stir long-repressed longings to go back to the city cradled in swathes of red-coloured escarpments. In two previous outings, everything that had to be seen in Jodhpur was already done and dusted with. Or, was it?

Nevertheless, in mid-November, my parents and I set off on our first-ever self-drive trip to Jodhpur via Salasar and Nagaur. What would follow was a spree of educational experiences: two involving things I had discovered about Jodhpur since our last outing, spurred somewhat by my reading during the intervening pandemic. And, a third we would just stumble into, and be pleasantly surprised by, despite my initial reluctance to indulge it.

A Living Museum

In an abandoned rock mine, on the low hill ranges encircling the western outskirts of Jodhpur, now covered with a blanket of grass and shrub, punctuated with the inimitable trio of ker, sangri and kumat trees, is located a unique interpretation of a museum. Arna Jharna Desert Musuem, literally meaning ‘forest and spring’, was the brainchild of Komal Kothari, who envisaged it as a showcase for the daily life of the regular desert folk.

The museum began with a single concept of displaying an object that is inseparable from daily life across all communities – the broom. On display in a cluster of huts are many more elements of daily life – pottery, utensils, storage spaces, cooking apparatus. Also on display are aspects of folk culture and indigenous knowledge systems. For instance, a humongous collection of musical instruments used across Rajasthan curated by Komal Kothari himself through his lifetime.

The most intriguing exhibit is a contraption serving as a portable shrine, called the kavad. A cupboard-like structure with multiple folds that can be progressively unfurled to reveal layers of shelves, it houses deities and pictorial depictions of religious stories and epics. The shrine moves from one place to another, accompanied by the storyteller, invariably from the bhat community, where he would narrate stories of the gods, folk-gods or epics to the patrons. Oftentimes, in the past, the patron would have a hereditary relationship with the bhat.

Walk towards the rear of the cluster of huts through the tall grass, and you reach the edge of a ravine with a stream that turns into a waterfall when it rains. The set-up of the huts in a cluster in a vastly open space reflects the general pattern of how habitation exists in and around the desert. The museum is highly recommended if one is keen for a glimpse into daily life in the desert, and into how daily life practices and processes have evolved within the ecological constraints of the desert.

A snapshot of the cluster of huts in the Arna Jharna Musuem

A Nature Park

During the pandemic, I came across an interesting essay titled ‘Dying to Live’ in an anthology called Journeys through Rajasthan. Penned by the filmmaker-turned-naturalist, Pradip Krishen, it chronicles how a rocky desert landscape overrun by an invasive species mesquite (Prosopis Juliflora), colloquially called ‘bawlia’, was painstakingly transformed into a desert rock park through rewilding with desert-native plant species.

In fact, I had often wondered what lay behind the rocky outcrop holding up the Mehrangarh fort, and it turned out, it was this very park, the Rao Jodha Desert Rock Park. On our 2019 Jodhpur trip, we had even driven past the park on our way to Jaisalmer, but I had little idea back then that it was anything remarkable. Not until I learnt that the area in and around Mehrangarh fort was the site of not one, but two Geological Monuments of India – Jodhpur Group–Malani Igneous Suite Contact and Welded Tuff.

The Malani Igneous Suite consists of a variety of rock formations which resulted from a volcanic event occurring 750 million years ago. However, one variety of orange-pink coloured flat-faced columnar rock formations called rhyolite, is remarkable in that the Mehrangarh fort sits atop one such formation. And so does the park, sprawling across eroded hills and valleys of rhyolite, sprinkled with bits of welded tuff, another rock formed during the Malani event.

The park welcomes you with an assortment of rock sample exhibits, sourced from the western part of the subcontinent stretching from the Indus basin through the Thar desert to the Kachchh, with most from rock systems formed tens of millions years ago to more than a billion years ago. The most fascinating exhibit is a 635 million year old sample from the ‘Sonia Sandstone Formation’ near Jodhpur, containing ‘trace fossils’, which are traces of movements and burrows in the mud left behind by some of the earliest organisms which had no hard parts that could fossilize.

Just entering the arched stone gate where the ticket counter is located, one comes across an array of desert microhabitats that acts as a nursery for desert native plants. From that point on, a flight of stairs leads down to a 500 year old rainwater canal that channels water to the Ranisar and Padamsar lakes, some of Jodhpur’s oldest water reservoirs, located at the opposite end of the park. The canal, called the Hathi Nahar (elephant canal), which serves as one of the four trails earmarked in the park, cuts through a welded tuff formation, and soon meets a path that leads to the aforementioned lakes.

Another trail runs along the ancient city wall that also serves as a boundary wall for the park, and yet another trail meanders through the rewilded forest comprising more than 250 plant species. From most points of the park, one is treated to exhilarating views of the profile of the fort from various angles. My favorite location was from the edge of the Padamsar lake. Or was it from just below the foothills of the rhyolite hill on which the fort is located? I am confused.

Entrance of the Rao Jodha Desert Rock Park

An Unusual Safari

All this while, I had been debating with myself and my parents whether we should venture into a heritage or village style accommodation for the remaining night. Searching online, I had zeroed in on one candidate, Bishnoi Village Camp and Resort, located 30 km to the south of Jodhpur, somewhere in between Mogra Kalan and Kankani. Circumspect for the better part of the two preceding days, yet encouraged by many stellar recommendations of foreign tourists, we headed off to the resort.

And boy, were we bowled over by the host, who showered special attention on us, given that we were the only guests for that particular night. Following a late evening safari through the nearby villages, where we visited the workshops of craftsmen showcasing pottery, bedsheets and durries, we were treated to a most satiating and authentic Rajasthani meal, which included, among many things, bajra (millet) roti, kadhi, and the delectable Ker Sangri fortified with kumat.

The next morning was a revelation of sorts, when we set out for a 7AM early winter safari to see the elusive blackbuck and the migratory demoiselle crane, colloquially called kurja. Imagine the surprise when we learned that we had been staying in the same area where the infamous 1998 blackbuck hunting which had offended the Bishnois, had occurred .

The Bishnoi community, in deference to rules set down by their founding guru Jambheswar, protects wildlife and vegetation, sometimes, with their lives. Testament to this is the 1730 AD incident from nearby Khejarli village, where a Bishnoi woman, Amrita Devi along with her three daughters, gave up their lives protecting khejri trees from the felling attempts of the king’s soldiers, triggering a wave of such sacrifices in 82 other Bishnoi villages where tree-felling had commenced. With the final tally reportedly reaching 383, the king, eventually, had to ask for forgiveness and abort the tree-felling activity.

The blackbuck is even more sacred to the Bishnoi community, as Guru Jambheswar is purported to be reborn as a blackbuck. No wonder then that our safari included a stop at a memorial built by the Bishnois for the slain blackbuck. Then crossing the saline Luni river, the largest river of the Thar, and the only one that originates at Pushkar and ends in the Rann of Kachchh, we ventured into blackbuck territory. And lo and behold, in open spaces hidden behind curtains of bushes, we sighted a group of nearly 50.

However, as I learned, sighting blackbucks is not the challenge – it is just that the male blackbuck, which the layman has an image of in the form of a black upper body and white underbody, with long antlers, is rarer than the female blackbucks which have a brown upper body. Male blackbucks engage in lekking, whereby a single male takes control of a territory comprising multiple females and juveniles, driving away other males through aggressive means. It was interesting, however, to see two to three groups of blackbucks, led by their respective leading male blackbuck, mingling, while two male blackbucks at separate locations trudged through the forest, alone, in the distance.

With rapid urbanization, the wilderness available to species such as the blackbuck has rapidly shrunk. The forested area where we spotted the blackbucks, have, in fact, already been earmarked for future industrial development. It will not be long before the blackbuck population will be further impacted. Sadly, the convictions of the Bishnoi community can only do so much against this new advancing frontier.

A glimpse of the Bishnoi Village and Camp Resort

Details for Visitors/Guests

Arna Jharna Museum

Entry fee: Rs. 100 per person
Visiting hours: 8:00 AM – 6:00 PM

The museum also conducts cultural folk programmes on occassion.

Drive from Jodhpur to the museum is remarkable.

Rao Jodha Desert Park

Entry fee: Rs. 100 per person
Visiting hours:
March to September: 6:30 am to 7 pm
October to February: 7:30 am to 6 pm

There are four trails, out of which three are in the area below the fort, i.e. the area which has been vigorously rewilded, and a fourth is around the Devkund lake, which lies adjacent to the Jaswant Thada, a short walk/drive away.

If time was a constraint, I would do the Yellow trail, to get a more involving flavour of the rewilding done in the park.

In warmer months, the trails are best done in the morning or evening.

Unsurprisingly, the park is at its beautiful best during the monsoons.

Keep an eye on their Instagram page to keep track of guided tours and other organized events.

Bishnoi Village and Camp Resort

Blackbuck and Village safari: Rs. 3000 for a group of 4-5 persons

Jodhpur and Jaisalmer: A Family Expedition into the Thar

Ruminating over fond memories of my previous excursions to the Thar, I realized that it was time my family members also got a taste of the desert, and so materialized my family’s first tryst with the Thar – and my third – in the end of November 2019. We took the Mandore Express from Gurgaon railway station, where we had to execute the train boarding with rocket-science precision on account of the train stopping only for 2 minutes, and reached Jodhpur at 8 AM next morning.

Day 1: Jodhpur and Mandore

We checked in to the Om Heritage hotel that afforded an excellent view of the Mehrangarh fort from its rooftop. The plan for the day, drawn on the experience of my previous sole trip to Jodhpur, was set, and so, the first thing we did was hire for the whole day one of those large auto-rickshaws that could accommodate all five of us, and headed over to the Umaid Bhawan Palace. Our next stop after that was at Mandore Garden, the place that had me mesmerized in my previous trip to Jodhpur.

Mandore, the seat of the Gurjara-Pratiharas in the 6th century AD, later became the capital of the Rathores before Rao Jodha shifted to the newly-founded city of Jodhpur. At Mandore, we first walked through the lawns and saw some of the temples and royal cenotaphs, and then visited the Government Musuem. From there, walking up an incline, we crossed a dammed mini-reservoir, and reached the ruined Mandore fort located on the top of a hill, getting a panoramic view of Mandore. After an hour and half well spent, we had our lunch in Mandore, and proceeded to Jaswant Thada on our way to Mehrangarh Fort.

The Jaswant Thada itself is located on the top of a flat red-coloured rocky hill which is barren, only punctuated with water pools, and has the scenic backdrop of the Mehrangarh fort on one side. Next up was Mehrangarh fort, which we reached at 4.30 PM just in time before the gates closed for entry. Taking up a guided tour, we gawked at the imposing palaces and exquisitely done interiors, before ending the tour at the raised long platform lining the fort wall the end of the fort where the cannons stand. We were then back in the hotel to have dinner, and prepare for checking out next day to proceed to the next leg of our trip.

Mehrangarh fort as seen from the rooftop of Om Heritage Hotel

Day 2: Exploring Jaisalmer city

The next morning, we started at 8.30 AM by the Innova car we had booked for the remainder of the trip. We passed through Balesar, as the land became progressively arid, with it becoming more distinctively barren and sandy as we approached Pokhran. By 2 PM, we had reached Jaisalmer and checked in at Hotel Heritage House, a hotel modelled as a typical Jaisalmer-style haveli. After a quick lunch at Shree Jee Restaurant, we went to see Patwon ki Haveli, actually a cluster of five small havelis, of which the most famous is the one in the front called Kothari’s Patwa Haveli.

Patwon ki Haveli was constructed over 50 years, starting in 1805 AD commissioned by Guman Chand Patwa, a trader of jewelry and fine brocade. The haveli is typified by latticed balconies carved out of sandstone but seeming as if carved from wood, ornate wall paintings, exquisitely carved pillars, and extensive corridors and chambers. After seeing the haveli, we proceeded to Jaisalmer Fort. At Jaisalmer fort too, we took a guided tour through the main palaces, hearing stories of the past, getting transported to the times when these were inhabited by the royals.

Later, we walked through the streets outside the palace, passing by and entering the street on the left side of the Lakshminathji temple. Just 100 metres in, we came upon the Baa ri Haveli, which we entered out of curiosity and were treated to interesting tidbits of the Rajasthani culture by way of of the artifacts on display, such as sculptures, furniture, toys, handicrafts etc. As we reached the terrace of the haveli, we saw the sun setting in the horizon marked by a long sandy ridge running in the distance outside the city limit, while twin spires of two temples stood in the foreground right in front of us.

An ornately decorated and painted hall in the Patwon ka Haveli, Jaisalmer

Soon after, we had tea and snacks at a roof-top restaurant hugging the fort wall while enjoying views of the city and the barren landscape beyond it. Back in the hotel, we retired to bed after dinner in anticipation of our outstation trip from Jaisalmer the next day.

Day 3: Off to the Border – Ranao, Tanot and Longewala

We started lazily next day, checking out of the hotel at around 11 AM and proceeded towards Tanot, stopping at places to get down to admire the desert landscape, and taking pictures of the landscape and of ourselves. By 1 PM, we reached the location that had left such a lasting impression in my mind the last time that it was the primary reason I was so excited about the trip, keen to show it to my family too. Yes, the place was Ranao, and it lived up to its promise and how!

We got down at the decline before the road reached the lowermost point of the depressed stretch reminiscent of a river bed, and ventured into the sand dunes lying on the side of road, taking pictures. As we began to move on, and were almost reaching the bottom of the ‘bed’, we were hailed by a person standing beside a Bolero pick-up, who offered us a paid session of dune-bashing as well as a tour of the vestiges of the Indo-Pak war. We readily agreed, and were amply rewarded with an enriching experience as we wandered through the sands going up and down the dunes. Further, we checked out the numerous bunkers, and sat on the sands partaking of the views of the oceans of sand.

Ranao village lies in the dried ‘river bed’

Finally, even though not content, in the interest of time, we left Ranao for Tanot which we reached by 3 PM. There, having a light meal, we proceeded to Longewala moving alongside the Pakistan border, reaching at 4 PM the War Memorial where we could spend just a little over half hour as evening was fast approaching. Thereafter, we headed back in the direction of Jaisalmer, reaching Sam Sand Dunes around 6.30 PM by when darkness had already fallen. We checked in to the Vinayak Desert camp, our stay for the night, where after seeing the folk art programme and a Rajasthani buffet, we went to sleep.

Day 4: Back to Jopdhpur through Osian

Early next morning, I woke up specifically to see sun rise from behind the sand dunes, barely catching the marvellous sight. A little later, we had breakfast, and then checking out from the camp around 10 AM, proceeded to do some camel-riding near the sand dunes. After that, we were headed to the last site of our Jaisalmer leg, the ruins of Kuldhara, which was as fascinating to me this time as it was the previous two times I was here. I was glad to see the family was enamoured too.

Sunrise as seen from the Desert camp at Sam Sand Dunes

By 12, we were back again on the road headed back to Jodhpur, through a different route than the one we took for the outward leg from Jodhpur. Around 2.30 PM, we stopped at Phalodi to have lunch, and by 4.30 PM, we were at Osian. Osian, dubbed an oasis in the Thar, was a major religious centre of the Gurjara-Pratihara period dating from the 5th to 12th century AD, and had been a trading centre from well before that, at least from the Gupta period onwards. Today, the ruins of Jain and Hindu temples from that period stand witness to its glorious past. The Oswal community is said to have originated from Osian.

At Osian, we visited the Sachiya Mata temple – Sachiya Mata being the town deity, who as per Jain legend is the form of Chamunda that was turned vegeterian by Acharya Ratnaprabhasuri in 457 BCE. As a result, Sachiya Mata is worshipped also by Jains, and the temple itself has many Jain features. From the temple which is situated on a hillock affords a panoramic view of the landscape beyond the town, including the sand dunes located on the outskirts of the town. Apart from the Sachiya Mata temple, I managed to get a glimpse of a few other temples, including the ruins of the Harihara temple, Vishnu temple and Sun temple that were located on or in the vicinity of the main road.

View of Osian town and beyond from Sachiya Mata temple premise

By 5.30 PM, we had to leave Osian as it was getting dark and we had a train to catch from Jodhpur. We caught the 8.30 PM Mandore Express from Jodhpur and reached Gurgaon the next morning, still delirious from the memorable family expedition into the Thar desert.

A Tryst with the Thar: Jodhpur and Jaisalmer

March 2014. Spring was here, again, bringing with it pangs of fernweh – a feeling of ‘far-sickness’, a longing for distant places – nagging away at my being. The train of heartbreak had barely left the station, all the more reason why I needed to get away in the opposite direction, all on my own, reinforcing at least to myself, the sense of liberation that came of detachment from all things that brew emotional dependence.

However, I could not detach myself from the yearning for the distant lands I had read about in school or seen on TV – the so-called sand dunes and camel rides in the Thar desert in and around Jaisalmer and Bikaner. And then there was Jodhpur, which a General Knowledge book addressed as the Blue City, something about the colour describing a city only piquing the curiosity to see the place in person. I had also taken a liking for forts, my favorite being Chittorgarh, and all these places in the Thar – Jaisalmer, Bikaner and Jodhpur – wore their forts on their sleeves.

After gaining ample confidence from my solo trips to Jaipur and Udaipur in the two preceding years, it was now time to up the ante or increase the dosage, if you will, given how the duration of my previous two Rajasthan trips had incremented by a day each, with the Jaipur sojourn being one day long and the Udaipur one being for two days. Also, the destination on the second trip, Udaipur, was farther from Delhi than was Jaipur, making it imperative that I strike out even further into Rajasthan this year. With these thoughts in mind, choosing the Holi long weekend, Holi falling on 17th March 2014, a Monday, I straightaway booked well in advance a train ticket for my return from Jaisalmer for the evening of Holi.

Finally, on the evening of 13th March, a Friday, I was standing again at Iffco Chowk after office waiting for the next state road transport bus headed to Jaipur. On the bus, it was a familiar feeling with familiar sights, passing through the outskirts of Gurgaon, then passing through the hill forest beyond Manesar, where I remember listening to the Mad Season album by Matchbox Twenty, and then crossing the barrage near Rewari. By 10 PM, I was in Jaipur, where after having a Rajasthani dinner, I hopped onto a state transport bus to Jodhpur, getting a seat beside a foreigner lady accompanied by his Indian guide. By 6 AM next morning, I was in Jodhpur, where like in my Udaipur trip, I simply walked some distance and checked-in to a budget hotel. And started feeling feverish!

Exploring the Blue City

Nevertheless, feeling feverish was a familiar feeling on my solo trips, which I countered this time, by taking a paracetamol tablet following a breakfast of poha. Then, like on my previous trips, I hired an auto-rickshaw with a whole-day tour package that I determined based on the recommendations given by the hotel receptionist, and reached Umaid Bhawan Palace, the current residence of the ruling dynasty of Jodhpur. Located on a hillock, the construction of the palace was started in 1929 by the Maharaja Umaid Singh, 37th Rathore ruler of Marwar state to provide employment to famine-strike farmers, and was completed in 1943, when the Maharaja started occupying it.

From there, I proceeded to Madore, a place that I only learnt about in Jodhpur, located about 8 km from the city, purported to be the native place of Mandodari, Ravana’s wife. Historically, Mandore, the seat of the Gurjara-Pratiharas in the 6th century AD, later became the capital of the Rathores before Rao Jodha shifted to the newly-founded city of Jodhpur. At Mandore, I was completely mesmerized by the scenes unfolding in front me – beautifully manicured lawns surrounding sandstone temples and cenotaphs, with a stone path trailing beside a canal abounding in lotus and lilies, that crossed a water tank and winded up the hill, with a the ruins of a fort lying on top of the hill. From the hilltop, spires of temples, the domes of the cenotaphs and the lushness of the lawns down in the garden below presented the most eye-pleasing views.

Leaving Mandore with reluctance, the autorickshaw driver drove me to Balsamand Lake, on the banks of which lies a summer palace, and from there, returned inside the city, stopping at Jaswant Thada. The Jaswant Thada, a cenotaph built of Makrana Marble for Maharaja Jaswant Singh II in 1899, itself is located on the top of a flat, barren red-coloured hill of igneous rock, only punctuated with water pools and barely any vegetation, and has the scenic backdrop of the Mehrangarh fort on one side. After admiring the striking landscape around the Jaswant Thada, I moved on to the Mehrangarh fort.

The construction of Mehrangarh fort was started in 1459 AD by Rao Jodha, who founded Jodhpur city after moving from Mandore the same year, with most of the current structures being constructed in the 17th century. The fort stands atop a 122 metre high rocky hill overlooking the city, with its distinct red sandstone profile with the red coloured hill base standing out and visible from long distances all around. I walked through the numerous tall arched gates, and then gawked at the imposing palaces and exquisitely done interiors, before ending the tour at the raised long platform lining the fort wall the end of the fort where the cannons stand.

Descending from Mehrangarh, we again headed to the outskirts, this time in the west passing on a road flanked by kumat plants with their golden coloured ears, to Kaylana lake, an artificial lake built by Pratap Singh in 1872, in the midst of igneous rock formations. After spending the sunset on the Kaylana Lake, I returned to the city, stopping at the clock tower, and retired to bed, after a day well spent, with my heart throbbing in anticipation of seeing the desert the next day.

Off to the Dunes

The next morning, I left the hotel and was inside a road transport bus headed to Jaisalmer by 8.30 AM. As we left the city, the landscape became progressively arid, with it becoming more distinctively barren and sandy as the bus approached Pokhran, where khejri trees stood scattered with large expanses of empty space between each other. I distinctly remember listening to the album The Bends by Radiohead as I marvelled at the white-yellowish sparsely vegetated soil shimmering under the sun. At 3 PM, as I stepped down at Jaisalmer, a streak of electrified excitement passed through my body. Soon, I was picked up by a local who I had called beforehand based on a colleague’s referral.

Landscape on the way to Jaisalmer somewhere between Jodhpur and Pokhran

The first sight that struck me as I rode pillion on the local’s motorcycle was that of the Jaisalmer fort radiating in all its golden glory with multiple golden coloured stony turrets stacked one after the other along the edge of a golden coloured rocky hillock. It was the physical manifestation of the images that I had created in my mind from reading in a book or hearing in the context of a movie (Sonar Kella by Satyajit Ray) or seeing in pictures or documentaries. But stepping physically inside that physical manifestation of my mental image had to wait, for there was yet another mental image born from childhood dreams that I had to physically soak in first – the sand dunes.

View of Jaisalmer fort (‘Sonar Kella’, or golden fort, as nicknamed by Satyajit Ray)

So checking into a budget hotel at the foot of the hill on which the fort is located, I rented a scooter from a nearby shop, and armed with a map and directions provided by the rent-a-bike shop scooted off towards Sam. As I left the periphery of the city, habitation and vegetation disappeared, while the road dipped and rose in curves streaking across the arid landscape shooting and disappearing into the horizon. Alongside the road, stood tall windmills in the midst of tall grass, with the skyline in the background lined by a long sandy ridge running from one end to another end of the purview.

As I rode up and down the wavy road, stopping at places to click photographs of the landscape, the thin clusters of huts and the camels either solitary or in groups whiling away time, I was welcomed by flat patches of sand with sparse vegetation on both sides. After almost an hour of riding, resorts in the form of desert camps started appearing, signalling the arrival of the Sam Sand Dunes. Right at the location where the Jaisalmer local’s contact person at Sam Sand Dunes had indicated earlier over the phone, there stood a camel with its minder waiting for me. And soon, the camel, with its minder and I seated on its back, heaved with a jerk from its kneeling position to stand upright, even as I saw the ground beneath sinking away, and lurched into the vast expanse of shimmering mounds of sand lying in front of me.

Glimpses of the landscape on the way to Sam Sand Dunes from Jaisalmer city

After staggering up and down the peaks and troughs of the dunes for about a kilometer, the camel stopped, and the minder beckoned me to get down, and soak in the atmosphere and the sands. As I sat on the sand, sifting through it, taking a fistful of it, and letting it stream down from my hands, I was overcome by the delight and glee of a child that has been left to play in a theme park. I sat marvelling at nature’s unique creation, observing the ribbed contours formed on the sand due to effects of wind, and the trails of footprints left behind by camels and humans and the tracks of the wheel carts swishing across the undulations. Beholding the sun setting behind the dunes, I turned around only to be awestruck by the near full moon hovering just over the horizon in the opposite direction.

In the twilight, I trod by foot over the sand dunes back to the point where I had parked my scooter, and headed across the road to the resort where the Jaisalmer local had arranged for my dinner. After witnessing a folk programme of Rajasthani music and dance, and gorging on the buffet of Rajasthani cuisine, I headed back on my scooter to the city. Riding all alone at 8.30 PM in the night, with the seas of moonlit sands glimmering all the way to the horizon on both sides of road, the near full moon hanging right over my head keeping me company and the cool breeze blowing against my face, I reckoned that I had transcended all bounds of the material world – I was floating in a meditative plane, wanting the ride to never end. It was pure bliss.

Folk programme inside a desert camp resort

Desert Frenzy

The next day was going to be jam-packed, what with my return scheduled on the 6 PM train that evening. So, I started around 9.30 AM after breakfast on the scooter, and headed back on the same road leading to Sam Sand Dunes. Midway though, I took a left turn and headed off on the narrow road piercing the desert, and reached Kuldhara, an abandoned village, also touted as a haunted site, right in the middle of the desert. At Kuldhara, there lay rows of abandoned stone houses with only their walls remaining, alongside a temple around which the town’s life seems to have centered around. Adjacent to the lies a garden dubbed Jurassic Cactus Park, with a fascinating assortment of cactus varieties.

Established in the 13th century by Paliwal Brahmins who had emigrated from Pali, and is said as per a local legend, to have been abandoned overnight and cursed by the villagers when the prime minister Salim Singh set eyes on the village chief’s daughter and threatened the villagers with dire consequences if they defied his wish. However, research seems to suggest that Kuldhara and other such villages nearby were abandoned gradually over time, mainly due to damage due to earthquakes and dwindling water supply, and the abandonment seems to have been precipitated by early 19th century due to the oppressive tax regime of Jaisalmer state propagated by Salim Singh.

Pushing further into the desert, all alone on the scooter, with nary a human in sight, I headed towards Khabha. About half an hour later, passing through sands with occasional patches of 3 feet tall grass beneath some of which, one or more camels would be resting, I beheld a ridge, resembling a plateau on which stood a compact golden-coloured fort. Ascending up the ridge, I was soon inside the Khabha fort, with tiny turrets lining its peripheral wall, where I was amazed to find a museum of natural history. The fort stood all alone in desolation, a lone sentinel on the edge of a low cliff in the middle of the desert, overlooking, in the escarpment below, the stony ruins of an abandoned village, a sight similar to that I had just seen in Kuldhara.

Somewhere in the desert on the way to Khabha

Leaving Khabha, I rode back towards the Sam road, and crossed it to move over to the other side, where the landscape was relatively greener, and then riding parallel to the Sam road but towards Jaisalmer, I reached Lodurva, which was the capital of the Bhattis before Rawal Jaisal founded Jaisalmer in 1156 CE. At Lodurva, I visited the Shree Parshvanath temple, dedicated to the 23rd Tirthankara, built in the 9th century in yellow limestone and sandstone, which was destroyed in 1152 by invaders, and later renovated and repaired in 1615 AD. Riding further, I was accosted by a couple of youth on a motorcycle who were intent on smearing rangoli, since it was Holi. I sped as fast as I could, with the duo in hot pursuit, finally managing to lose them, and only stopped, nearer to Jaisalmer, at the Amar Singh Jain temple.

It was now 1 PM, and I had on my wish list, still one more outstation site to see, but this site was located on the other side of the city. Calculating the time I had in hand, I crossed Jaisalmer city, and sped on the Barmer highway to reach Akal Wood Fossil Park, lying about 18 km south-east of Jaisalmer, where I was welcomed by a couple of emus and an assortment of wood fossils dating back to 200 million years. I rode through the desolate desolate brown rocky land, coming across more preserved fossilized wood dating and pairs of pillars for which there was no explanation. After wandering for a while inside the fascinating park, I headed back to the city, where I stopped at Gadisar Lake, an artificial lake created in 1156 to serve as the main water source for the then newly-founded city.

Welcomed by emus in Akal Wood Fossil Park

After surrendering the scooter at the rent-a-bike shop, at around 4 PM, I finally found myself inside Jaisalmer fort. Soon, I was walking through the streets of the bustling town lying inside the fort premises. After whizzing past the courtyards, corridors and halls in the palaces, I came upon the the alleys running along the ramparts of the fort, winding around the turrets, in maze-like form. Standing on the ramparts, I was treated to breathtaking views of the cityscape and the barren, desert landscape beyond it with its meeting point with the sky shrouded in a haze of sand, leaving me in a trance.

Panoramic view of the city and beyond from the ramparts of Jaisalmer fort

My reverie was broken when the local who had arranged my accommodation and camel ride at Sam Sand Dunes called, asking if I was prepared to be dropped at the railway station. Walking down the fort road, I was not able to escape an assault of rangoli launched by a passerby, rendering patches of colour on my shirt and hair, leaving me fuming. But then, I saw a group of white tourists who had completely immersed themselves enjoyment of the festival of colours, and I told myself, what’s the big deal?, and greeted them, followed by exchanges of polite colour smearing.

As I mounted the motorcycle to sit behind the Jaisalmer local, with my backpack lugging on my back, I took one parting look at the mesmerizing golden fort sitting proudly and timelessly on the rock. An hour later, I was inside the train, fondly scrolling through the gallery on my Nokia Lumia phone, with the photographs on my phone, the smudges of rangoli on my person, and the wistfulness in my heart, being the only remaining and undying vestiges of my tryst with the Thar.

Trip Map of Jodhpur

Trip Map of Jaisalmer