After a hot, humid, 3-litre sweat-day at Jodhpur, I decided to race to Jaisalmer. Jodhpur was, frankly, a letdown after the beautiful Udaipur and only a desert safari could make good for the losses. I took the 3 o clock bus to Jaisalmer from behind the Bombay Motors workshop and the Rs. 120 ticket was another accomplishment. I was beginning to believe that comfortable travel was getting cheaper in India but soon I saw tens of people sitting on the passage of the 2 x 1 sleeper and I knew that not much had changed.
Anyways, the journey started and I was sitting alongside 50 other villagers, with traditional, colorful ghagras or dhotis and giant moustaches with saffron turbans. Needless to say, I was not the most comfortable, with a tight black T-shirt that said, “Manhattan to Brooklyn” and black sunglasses. Meanwhile the winds were blowing full swing and I adjusted the window just enough to let fresh air come in and work on the free flow of sweat. How ironical it was, the winds that are created by of low pressure areas over the desert of Rajasthan, feed the whole country with rains but bring nothing for the desert itself. The barren waterless desert was, in other words, the lifeline for the whole subcontinent as far as water was concerned.
Three hours into the journey, we reached Pokharan, the place where all known and unknown nuclear tests in India are conducted. On a 4-wheel drive, the site is about 30-35 kms from the highway. The journey continued after a short stop as the high neems gave way to cacti and short stunted shrubs dotted the brown terrain. I reached Jaisalmer by 2030 hrs and the sun had already set.
The town is easily differentiated into two parts – Inside the fort and Outside the fort. The part of the town inside the fort is actually a village. The gullies are narrow even for a bike to pass and houses are closer to each other than you can imagine. The streets outside the fort are slightly better off in terms of width. I had not planned or made any hotel bookings and hence I fell prey to the first tour operator’s crony who found me in the bus itself. Lacking enough time and energy to look out for hotels myself, I gave in.
Little Johny took me through the serpentile trails inside the fort into the smallest guest house that was ever built or modified. Actually, every second house was equally small and had been converted into a guest house. In one such house, I found a room for myself, a room that was definitely worth 200 INR.
The room had a big window and was done in traditional flavor. The sills had old broken pottery kept on them while the ceiling had colorful rustic decoration on it. Very clearly, Jaisalmer had understood tricks to catch the aorta of the foreign tourists. They knew the importance of tourism for their survival in that, otherwise, barren village. They knew their strengths and they played to them. And this reminds me of the language too. The guide could speak English, so could the cook. Quite irritatingly, both had put up an accent as well. Even the small gypsy girl, 40 kms into the desert, away from Jaisalmer, could speak a bit of English. Clearly, tourism was the most important part of their life.
Anyways, the journey started and I was sitting alongside 50 other villagers, with traditional, colorful ghagras or dhotis and giant moustaches with saffron turbans. Needless to say, I was not the most comfortable, with a tight black T-shirt that said, “Manhattan to Brooklyn” and black sunglasses. Meanwhile the winds were blowing full swing and I adjusted the window just enough to let fresh air come in and work on the free flow of sweat. How ironical it was, the winds that are created by of low pressure areas over the desert of Rajasthan, feed the whole country with rains but bring nothing for the desert itself. The barren waterless desert was, in other words, the lifeline for the whole subcontinent as far as water was concerned.
Three hours into the journey, we reached Pokharan, the place where all known and unknown nuclear tests in India are conducted. On a 4-wheel drive, the site is about 30-35 kms from the highway. The journey continued after a short stop as the high neems gave way to cacti and short stunted shrubs dotted the brown terrain. I reached Jaisalmer by 2030 hrs and the sun had already set.
The town is easily differentiated into two parts – Inside the fort and Outside the fort. The part of the town inside the fort is actually a village. The gullies are narrow even for a bike to pass and houses are closer to each other than you can imagine. The streets outside the fort are slightly better off in terms of width. I had not planned or made any hotel bookings and hence I fell prey to the first tour operator’s crony who found me in the bus itself. Lacking enough time and energy to look out for hotels myself, I gave in.
Little Johny took me through the serpentile trails inside the fort into the smallest guest house that was ever built or modified. Actually, every second house was equally small and had been converted into a guest house. In one such house, I found a room for myself, a room that was definitely worth 200 INR.
The room had a big window and was done in traditional flavor. The sills had old broken pottery kept on them while the ceiling had colorful rustic decoration on it. Very clearly, Jaisalmer had understood tricks to catch the aorta of the foreign tourists. They knew the importance of tourism for their survival in that, otherwise, barren village. They knew their strengths and they played to them. And this reminds me of the language too. The guide could speak English, so could the cook. Quite irritatingly, both had put up an accent as well. Even the small gypsy girl, 40 kms into the desert, away from Jaisalmer, could speak a bit of English. Clearly, tourism was the most important part of their life.
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