Desultory desert days (aka Jill gets the hump in the Thar desert)

---

The early morning air was invigorating, but this far from the city smog we basked in sunshine as we washed in our separate (warm!) shower cubicle. Perhaps not surprisingly, breakfast Sahib-style broke with the standard regime of parantha, curd and pickles and was all the more welcome given that we’ve eaten the same fare three times a day since our arrival. As much as we have enjoyed “going native”, saturation point is nigh and neither of us feel an imminent Jai Ho hit upon our return home!



We made haste to strike out further into the desert, in order to complete the circuit by mid-afternoon. Working on the basis that she was more exposed to the unsolicited advances of our dromedary friends’ (Moti & Ranshev) ticks in the cart, Jill decided to try her hand negotiating the hump and swagger while Rob took his turn crooning with our jovial escorts. From that vantage point vibrantly coloured birds, sprightly gazelles, statuesque blue bulls and scurrying gerbils were to be spied in every direction.



Before we rejoined the lakeside picnic spot, we had made the requisite stops in a local village and were fleeced of yet another fistful of dollars. Even the 10 month old baby rubbed her thumb and forefinger with dexterity: “rupee” is the favourite catchword across the countryside, and small wonder, as they eek out such a miserable existence in hovels without sanitation.



Returning to relative civilization, i.e. an identical tent surrounded by adobe style wall and brush roof, we idled poolside until sunset when yet another fest of Rajasthani music and dancing lured us down to the hunting lodge style bar area. Reggie’s encampment is built hacienda style on a series of terraced levels dedicated to different purposes (reception, dining, sleeping, swimming etc.) with the desert lapping against Rajput- style crenelated walls. The front approach is dominated by a camel-racing ring and gives way to outdoor rooms of cushion laden couches where firepits mellow the nippy night air.



In contrast with the absolute calm of the desert, our night here was broken by trains passing at the local level crossing. Their cautionary sounding of the horn seemed interminable, but the din was redoubled at dawn by the screaming of fighter jets on sorties along the border with Pakistan. We first noticed them disturbing the peace in Jodhpur and their activity is unlikely to diminish until we head back east.

---