Jaisalmer - Friendly Warnings in an Indian Neighborhood

It was my first day in Jaisalmer, an oasis town founded in 1156. It was along the camel route of merchants and adventurers on their way to Persia (Iran) before Mumbai came along. Named after the great Maharaja Jaisala, the fort was built to ward off Muslim invaders from the west. These days, 20% of the population is Muslim, which is understandable because of its proximity to Pakistan. The brisk trade associated with its location in olden times facilitated the construction of magnificent houses and mansions – called haveli – exquisitely carved from wood and sandstone. But the rise of Mumbai and the cutting of the camel-route through Pakistan took a toll on Jaisalmer. These days, crumbling havelis stand for survival. It’s fortunate then that tourism in the region has picked up in the last decade or so. Massive renovations are now underway all throughout the city.

PEDDLER ON THE ROOF

I woke up in mid-morning; a mere 3-hour sleep which was fine as I was asleep for more than 5 hours during my train ride. I climbed up the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. There was a French guy reading his book. I took the table next to his and braced myself when the owner, a bemoustached gentleman in his fifties, started aggressively peddling his camel safaris. I said I’d think about it after I take my breakfast – a delightful plate of Vegetable Spaghetti with Cheese. True enough, once my plate was empty, he sat in front of me and resumed his sales talk. 

There was something scary about his aggressive pitch, but he sweetened the deal: “Mark my word, this will be your most unforgettable experience in all your travels in India.” Not only that, if I agreed on a camel safari – which includes a camel ride at the Great Thar Desert, dinner at a village with Rajasthani performers dancing and singing, and an overnight stay at the sand dunes “sleeping under the stars” – I wouldn’t have to pay my 100 rupee room anymore. I chuckled. It’s a hundred rupee – approximately $2. Such considerable savings, right? J Despite red flags waving in my head, I acquiesced and actually agreed. We shook hands and I paid my 900 rupees; all this time, I was mentally kicking myself for not heeding a troubled intuition. Did I bite the bait that spelled trouble?

Rooftop restaurant of Hotel Peacock

DULY WARNED

Later that day, I met a guy at the Jaisalmer Fort who warned me against “Mr. Moustache”, he would say. Oh dear me, what have I gotten myself into. It was like getting inside the lair of a beast, knowing fully well what was to come; what people vehemently warned me against. I’d cross the bridge… and so on. Sometimes these indecisions solve at the right unhurried moment. I thought I’d play it by ear. Meanwhile, I had a city to roam.

As I navigated the bowels of the city, I noticed that reconstructions and renovations I've read were hardly obtrusive. I didn’t see any. The narrow streets still seemed untouched. The winding alleys still whispered echoes of the past. I liked navigating these streets unswamped by other tourists. It gave the deceptive impression that I was rediscovering these slumbering passages. I knew I wasn’t. But this was my own adventure and I could dictate the content of my own fantasy, right?

This is the Eye in the Sky!

Roof deck

True enough, Hotel Swatika (above) and Hotel Ratan Palace (below) were just a stone's throw away from Hotel Peacock.

Havelis

Streetside bazaar at the old city.

Fruit and vegetable stalls.

Narrow alley near my hotel.

Jaisalmer Golden City of Rajasthan, India: A Travelogue

A single photo beams an intricately designed structure gleaming in intense sunset reflection. At its back is a towering fort with an arid base of golden earth. This was all it took to decide on a trip to Jaisalmer. Prior to this, I’ve never heard of Jaisalmer, India’s westernmost city up north. The Thar Desert demarcates this dusty landscape from Pakistan. This thought alone intimidates and challenges my sensibility. What’s better, camel safaris on sand dunes are possible in this land of rough and tumble.

With a population of 78,000, the city is a magical land of giant sandcastles – “with a town attached to it,” adds Lonely Planet. It is a wonderland of fairy tale exoticism punctuated by 1) the Jaisalmer Fort that rises above the Trikuta Hill; 2) seven Jain Temples (a place of worship for those who follow Jainism which is an Indian religion that prescribes a path of non-violence towards all living beings); 3) opulently carved traditional Rajasthani and Gujarati houses called havelis; and 4) the city’s proximity to the mysterious bleakness of the Thar Desert.

In the eyes of an ordinary observer like myself, there is nothing like Jaisalmer: the colors jut out of every nook and cranny; the laidback pace of life glides by with silky grace, the exotic terrain reminds you that you’re too far away from home to be complacent. I am in the land of exquisite mirror works, embroidery and grandiose merchant villas… where explorers used to saunter on protracted camel rides from Central Asia. But I am getting way ahead of myself.

From the Blue City of Jodhpur, I was headed towards this Golden City, half anxious of what awaits me in a place that seemingly extricates itself from all things familiar. If I am speaking in waves of hyperbole, it’s because that’s how it felt as I finally made my way to my train. I’d be traveling 301 kilometers (188 miles) on the JSM Express, train # 14810: B2, seat 15. This was a 3AC train (3^rd class, AC, 3-tiers) worth 560 rupees. But locating this specific seat took me forever to find; I must have sashayed down the platform a dozen times. It was close to midnight and most living souls were weary. People were pointing me to all directions. I wanted to remind them it was not a crime not to know. Indian trains are a chaotic conundrum more baffling than any jigsaw puzzle.

Once settled on my lower berth bunk, the train pulled out of Jodhpur Station at 11:45 PM. I must have dozed off for the next 5 hours and 45 minutes. When I woke up, people were already scampering out of the train. I jumped from my seat, pulled my backpack and made my way out of Jaisalmer Train Station. It was eerie at 5:30 in the morning. I was caught with indecision while the early morning breeze blew a whiff on my face. Outside the station, a rickshaw driver was bent on taking me to a hotel.

EARLY MORNING TOUT

I had a list to check out, but this was not the time for that. Not before 6 AM. I mentioned Hotel Swastika, Hotel Fort View, Hotel Ratan Palace, and Hotel Renuka. Clearly, the rickshaw driver didn’t have any of these names in mind. He was to take me to Hotel Peacock, a place I haven’t read about. “Just see the place,” suggested the young driver. He added, ”It’s near Hotel Renuka. If you don’t like it, you can leave.” Fair enough. I hopped into his rickshaw and off we passed along the first gate of Gadi Sagar. Many Indian hotels make it a practice to pay people who could take arriving tourists to their hotel, thus touts are a dime a dozen in train stations, bus terminals, piers and even airports. In Mumbai, I had several people at the train station tell me that the hotel I wanted to check out has closed. It hasn't. 

At 6 in the morning, the guesthouse looked abandoned. Its occupants, permanent and transient, must still be winding down with their dreams and nightmares. I was taken to my room at the back of the lobby. The interiors looked like some Middle Eastern domecile, with exotic curtains on arched doorways. The room itself had Spartan interiors – and huge space, with an attached bathroom. There’s a tired ceiling fan, a small table beside the bed, a corner shelf, and nothing else. There was a wide framed tapestry on the white wall. November was a chilly season. Snow had fallen in Srinagar and the cantankerous peaks of Kashmir.

I washed my face then stared at my bed – two singles placed beside each other. They didn’t even have sheets on them. My beach towel would suffice for now. There was a degree of delectable freedom in the bareness of the room. I lived despite absence of the usual comfort I’m used to. Sometimes, survival is a matter of conditioning.

There was proper time to cogitate and immerse myself on philosophical musings. Right then, I needed to catch some sleep so I’d have adequate energy to roam the city much later. Besides, dreams are an avenue for these things. Maybe I’ll get to see the havelis and Jain temples once I close my eyes.

So I shut them to rest.

This is the Eye in the Sky!

Jaisalmer Train Station

Hotel Peacock's hallway leading to my room.

Bare essentials in my spacious room. This was a mere 100 rupees, but I could get this for free. Wait until the next post for the anecdote.

Before going to dreamland, I couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. Won't it cave down on me? 

My rickshaw driver actually worked for the hotel. He was tasked to fetch prospective customers at the train station every time there's a scheduled arrival . There's probably just 2 to 3 arrivals daily. I saw him again just waiting outside the hotel. The nice thing about him was that he wasn't pushy.

The impressive seven-story Palace at the Jaisalmer Fort.

Shadows and design play exquisitely at a Jain Temple.

Interiors of one of the Jain Temples.

People enjoy the desert breeze just after sunset at the Great Thar Desert.

Dry and dusty terrain in Jaisalmer at the fringes of a desert. Some 40 kilometers from here is the Great Thar Desert.

A graveyard in Jaisalmer. 

A sandstone building across Gadisar Lake.

A cornet bookstore in one of the narrow alleys of Jaisalmer near my hotel. I bought some postcards here.

Another narrow alley at the Jaisalmer Fort, a "working fort", i.e. people live and work here.

Jaisalmer Fort rises from the Trikuta Hill. 

West of Jaisalmer is the desert separating it from Pakistan.