India Ink: The Stars of Jaisalmer

Jaisalmer, the far-most corner of Rajashtan that borders Pakistan, was very hot. If Jaipur was the loud, chatty sister then Jaisalmer would be the calm, reserved one who enjoyed beckoning the sense of agelessness. The city, where its inhabitants derive most of their livelihood from tourists, was small with the Fort majestically residing in the center of it all; walking through the empty lanes one feels like being in a maze yet reassured that being lost is not possible.

One day I was walking alone, and during the blazing heat of the afternoon stumbled upon the city's only Italian place in the old Fort. I ordered some pizza and chai, sat next to its largest and only window. I could see the waves of heat seeping through, blurring the Fort. Tourists were seldom seen, perhaps they too had taken cover as I did. The city seemed deserted, just little girls waiting for their little stalls selling some shiny desert crafts and camel miniatures. Sometimes some women would pass, always in a little group and never alone, walking silently in their long dresses and transparent headscarves that even covered their ankles. All I'm hearing is the jingles of their bracelets but never any chatter.

Right outside the city, right at its backyard lies the desert that separates the Indian sand to Pakistani's. From the jeep I saw little huts that looked like tropical igloos. Gipsy settlements, my guide exclaimed, protects them from the heat. I looked outside and they looked inside, it was as if they could see through my cotton veil, that I was a foreigner and a stranger in their backyard.

A mosquito bite. My guide laughed. Pakistani mosquito, he said in all seriousness he could muster, no mosquito here in India!  

We continued the journey by camel. I have never been a rider, despite my love for horses, and in all truthfulness being on a camel's back was like that scary ride in the amusement park you always wanted to take and regretted just when the seat belts are put on and the instructions read. Without any saddle or a rope to ease the rider's fear, the tall-legged creature stood up, hind legs first and after an awkward 3 seconds was followed by its front legs. He then walked on, slowly and dramatically, munching something while flies escorted us near his nostrils. A royal treat.

When we decided to camp, it was almost sunset and I took advantage of it by climbing on top of the tallest dune to sit and write while waiting to see the sky change color. A true generousness of nature, this change when the sky went from light yellow to softer orange, purplish red to a calm blue whose hue goes darker until everything is dark and the only light came from the moon that appeared so large and full from where I was sitting and the stars which were numerous.

Contented, I noticed another camp fire over the sand hills. 2 camels were munching on grass. Intrigued, I naively crossed and waved. They waved back and invited me over to make chapatis. A Czech traveler with his native guide who was preparing for dinner. We sat there as the night grew darker and the fire brighter, eating with our hands. I asked the guide whether he ever thought of living in a city like Delhi. He looked away, shy, and rolled another chapati. No option there, he mumbled, no, no, only camel safari.

We sat there by the fire until my own traveling companions found me and I returned to another meal, another story until we finally fell asleep under the stars that remained even after the sand storm passed.