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Published: February 11th 2016
It was with considerable reluctance that I left behind the Demoiselle Cranes and drove another couple of hours west into the Thar Desert. The ancient 'Golden City' of Jaisalmer is about as far west as you can go in India - unless you're in the country's armed forces. This dry and dusty part of Rajasthan lies close to the border with Pakistan to the west & south-west. Main roads just half-an-hour from the city centre are reserved for military use and there's a significant air force station on the outskirts. Jet engines occasionally roar loudly across the town, after-burners like bright flames on take-off disappearing suddenly as fighter aircraft climb into inky night-time skies.
Yet it's a peaceful enough place, dominated by a massive sandcastle of a 12th-century fort and, although it’s a bit out on a limb some 360 miles
(575kms) from the State capital of Jaipur, it continues to be one of Rajasthan's most popular tourist destinations.
I’d arrived shortly after midday. I could see the fort from my bedroom window, so decided to venture out to find some lunch there.
'It's a 15-minute walk', they said.
'Turn left and then
go straight', they said.
The only problem was there were no straight roads!
The narrow walkways between tall buildings with colourful, over-stocked shops at street level also prevented any view of the fort, which I thought must be somewhere up on the hill above me. One bazaar looked very much like another and I must have turned right when I should have turned left, or turned left when I should have turned right!
Three hours later, I returned to the hotel, having asked the way a dozen times and been given a lift part of the way by someone going in that general direction. I never did find the fort that day! I did, however, find places that weren’t on the tourist trail. I chatted to people who’d never had a European enquiring about what their little shop contained. I admired a bewildering array of decorated doorways, and I had a bite to eat with locals curious to know why I was with them and not up in the fort with all the tourists!
I enjoyed getting lost; it brought a new perspective to the realities of life in a big, remote city and it provided
Jaisalmer embroidery
This was the bedspread in my hotel roomsome great photo opportunities. I must do it again soon!
The next morning I did find my way to that citadel in the sky, although rather by accident and it definitely took much longer than the promised 15 minutes to get there. It took even longer to get back again!
The city was founded in 1156 - as you might guess, by a man named Jaisal. He was the leader of the Bhati Rajput clan, who apparently claim a lineage back to Lord Krishna and who ruled here until India’s independence in 1947. In early times, the Bhatis lived by looting but 500 years on, as it found itself on the camel-train ‘silk’ route between Central Asia and India, it became a prosperous trading post. The British Raj put paid to that with the introduction of railways, an increase in sea trade through Mumbai to the south and finally with Partition in 1947 cutting trade routes with Pakistan. In subsequent years, disputes between India and Pakistan gave the city a new strategic military importance and opening of the Indira Ghandi Canal to the north revitalised the desert environment.
Inevitably though, tourism has brought the greatest wealth and
A doorway in Jaisalmer
I was welcomed in by the two elderly gentlemen and spent a few minutes exchanging sign language! even greater problems. The fort, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a living one with more than a quarter of the city’s population living inside it. It was built on shaky foundations and water seepage, inadequate drains and sewers, an ever-growing population and increasing visitor numbers have all led to parts of it crumbling and even collapsing. Millions have been spent trying to conserve it but, hey, this is India. A lack of co‑ordination among government departments presents on-going difficulties in restoration and, importantly, maintenance; I guess it will for many years to come.
The fort’s tall, rounded bastions and sandstone walls, a lion-like colour during the day, turn a deep honey-gold as the bright sun drops below the horizon. The streets leading up to it are, as I discovered, a maze of homes and markets selling all manner of things - everyday goods like fresh vegetables, fruit, groceries and household necessities, plus a host of stuff for tourists: blouses and pantaloons in fancy patterns that locals would never even consider wearing, fabric and leather bags, mirrored umbrellas and beautiful bright embroideries.
Away from the well-trodden tourist paths, cows and pigs wander at will, dirty water runs in
open channels beside the foot-way, old men sit outside in the sun reading yesterday’s news, and kids play a game of marbles until, noticing a rare camera-toting tourist
(me!), they leap to their feet demanding a photo.
Inside the fort, through four huge gates, is another honeycomb of lanes lined with shops, all seemingly selling similar handicrafts. There are some interesting temples too and cafés and small restaurants galore. Bored with all the commercialisation, however, I climbed up onto the ramparts and walked around just inside the walls, enjoying the solitude and views.
Later, after leaving the fort, I got lost again trying to find my way back down to the hotel. Should I have turned right or left, straight on, back up then right…? Eventually, when I’d given up all hope of recognising my whereabouts, I flagged down a passing auto-rickshaw and invested 40 Rupees
(40p) for the last leg of the journey down.
I did a deal with the auto-rickshaw driver to take me that afternoon to Gadisar Lake, wait there an hour, then bring me back - all for the princely sum of 200 Rupees
(£2). It was a bit further than I’d imagined
from the map and the road was potholed, littered with unannounced speed humps and busy with local traffic. Perhaps I should have booked a taxi cab! However, once there, I found a pleasant man-made lake
(usually referred to here as a ‘tank’) dating back to the 14th century. Formerly the main source of drinking water for the city, it’s filled only by rainwater and sometimes dries out if the monsoon is poor. Around the edge and on small islands are some old temples but its main function seems to be a place of recreation for the local populace, who enjoy pedalo rides on the water and feeding huge catfish that gather in anticipation of a meal of stale bread.
My final afternoon was spent in the company of the hotel’s owner, using his Jeep and driver to visit ‘untouristy’ parts of the surrounding desert. I have to mention that the Thar Desert in this area is not the ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ kind, although many visitors are persuaded to emulate his adventures by taking an overnight
(and overpriced) excursion to popular sand dunes at Sam. This is more semi-desert with only occasional sand dunes - and, indeed, the Thar as
a whole is one of most heavily populated desert areas in the world. Agriculture and animal husbandry are the main occupations of its inhabitants, with fields of millet, maize and beans
(known as kharif crops, cultivated and harvested during monsoon periods) and small herds of goats, sheep and camels being familiar sights.
We drove for what seemed like an eternity on a single-track road, sand dotted with thorn scrub, clumps of grass and stands of succulent plants stretching into the distance on either side. Through the open back of the Jeep, I could see sand swirling behind us, some entering my seating area and prompting me to firmly cover my cameras before it entered their delicate mechanisms.
Our first stop was near the village of Jaseri, at an oasis devoid of human life except for two women with baskets on their heads collecting dry sticks for their cooking fires. Beside the water grew shrubby trees with lethal thorns the size of a man’s fingers and tiny plants bearing bright purple and yellow flowers with similar protective thorns. From out of nowhere, while trying to photograph the lake, I was surrounded by a flock of fluffy white sheep and
hairy black goats before they all headed for the water bleating loudly.
We continued to Kuldhara, one of 84 similar abandoned villages, but didn’t enter as this well-known spot now demands a fee from visitors. Instead, we drove on to Khaba, where there was a small fort overlooking another of these abandoned villages. The story goes that these 13th century villages prospered because of their Brahmin communities’ agricultural and business skills. Then, around 1825, an evil ruler of a neighbouring kingdom demanded to marry the young daughter of one of these villages' chiefs. He stipulated a deadline for the marriage, after which he would forcibly enter the village and take away the girl. The chiefs of all the surrounding villages met to discuss the threat and, for the pride and honour of their caste, decided that the entire population would secretly leave the villages during the night. No-one is sure how they did it, nor where they went. They simply vanished. As they left, they put curses on the villages which would bring death to anyone who tried to inhabit the land. This is thought to be why so much of the ancient villages remains - although houses have
tumbled down, they haven’t been stripped for materials. Weird and a bit spooky!
Just down the road, we came upon a shop - yes, a shop! There wasn’t anything else there. Inside, the hotel manager bought a pack of cigarettes. An old man sitting outside, who’d clearly had a drink or three, then entertained us briefly with a tune on the sort of wind instrument used to charm snakes. I didn’t find the sound particularly charming but his puffing and panting face made an interesting photo.
Our journey continued into the Desert National Park, parts of which have been fenced to preserve the tall yellowing grasses that allow the endangered Great Indian Bustard to survive here in quite good numbers (alas, I wasn’t lucky enough to sight one). Many other birds are found here, particularly raptors like eagles, harriers, vultures, buzzards and kestrels. We saw a few but the hotel manager was not ornithologically inclined and we tended to whiz past them too fast for me to clearly identify them or to digitally capture their existence!
Next, we popped into a village occupied by people who’d once been nomadic but who had been persuaded by the government
to take up permanent residence in the desert and to educate their children in the ways of the modern world. Tourists don’t usually come to this particular village but the hotel manager was known to its chief and we spent an enjoyable half-hour meeting several families and dozens of very inquisitive children.
Finally - and I couldn’t come to a desert without doing so - I mounted a camel
(if you’ll excuse the expression) for a two-hour ride across the shifting sands. Now, it has to be said that a camel wouldn’t be my first choice of transport in a crisis. It’s a cantankerous beast, complaining vociferously from the moment it’s made to kneel for one to climb onto its saddle. It attracts flies. It lollops rather than walks. It spits and it farts. However, its big flat feet provide a simple way to negotiate deep sand and a high seating position from which to admire the surrounding countryside. Unfortunately, without stirrups, one has to do the splits in order to sit on the saddle. Sitting on the seat in front of the hump results in a pain in the thighs and groins. Sitting on the seat behind the
hump results (for men not wearing a jock-strap) in a pain elsewhere.
Please promise you won’t laugh at the photos of me pretending to smile at the end of my uncomfortable ride across the arid plains and wind-swept dunes. I was sitting in the seat behind the hump!
Accommodation: Hotel The Silk Route, Patwa Haveli Road, Kalakar (Artists) Colony, Jaisalmer Te: +91 9414478125 or +91 2992 251213 email: mail@hotelthesilkroute.com Web: www.hotelthesilkroute.com Booked through Booking.com but can be booked direct (possibly at slightly higher prices).
This modern hotel, less than a year old, has been constructed amid a small colony of family houses a 20-minute interesting walk from the Fort (unless you get hopelessly lost on the way there, as I did!). Arriving here is something of a shock - from the road, one has to cross an unpleasant damp area littered with rubbish, then walk up a steep path with gullies for waste water before reaching an even steeper flight of steps up to the hotel reception. In fairness, work is being done to tidy up the area as part of a community improvement project. Once inside, however the rooms are spacious, clean, modern
and well-equipped. Great use has been made of local patchwork embroidery for bedspreads and for cushion covers on the window seat. The bed was comfortable and the bathroom was excellent, with a hand-basin, Western toilet and a shower designed to avoid flooding the whole room. There’s a great rooftop terrace with views towards the Fort. Here, there’s seating and tables for enjoying breakfast and reasonably priced light meals that are cooked to order in an adjoining kitchen. WiFi is available in the room, although it's better on the rooftop.
The young staff, under manager Ghuman, were friendly, hard working and always eager to provide the best service possible. The knowledgeable and respected owner, Dileep Singh Pau, acted as my guide with his own jeep for my safari into the desert.
Cost: Double for single occupancy Rs.1200 (£12ish) per night for bed and breakfast. Great value.
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Kuan Yin
Karen Johnson
Getting lost
I also think getting lost is a lot of fun. It's one of the reasons I travel alone, you can follow any interesting path you come across.