Road trips, to us, are the best way to break the ice between a vehicle and the people who use it. Much like it is for strangers travelling together. Here at Nirvana, we like to believe that vehicles, regardless of the number of wheels, have personalities too. With the Mahindra Xylo, we were on the verge of finding out what motoring could mean if one let go of stereotypes and just put pedal to the metal.
The day before our trip, as the Mahindra Xylo arrived, we were a tad surprised with the space inside. The initial drive made us feel like everything was where it needed to be in the vehicle. Power, space, air conditioning, stability and that all important 3rd row of seats. We would be putting the Xylo to the ‘Nirvana Travel Test’ so obviously we had no back up vehicle to lug our stuff separately.
Let’s go that way!
Five boys, seven days and loads of camera things, we set out to conquer the Indian countryside in our Xylo. We must be honest, an ‘MUV’ is probably not the first choice of vehicle for a bunch of young boys who’d want to have a bit of fun on a road trip. Through our photography, that was the very mindset we were out to change!
There were two major aims of our week long trip. We were to photograph the vehicle and also experience life with the Mahindra Xylo H9. H9 being the most well equipped ‘top end’ version.
Our first destination was the beach town of Murud Janjira. A 170 kilometer drive saw us there well in time for the sunset and a quick bite. On the short drive here, the Xylo behaved like a silent companion, nonchalantly going about its business of turning wheels and getting us to the town.
Shooting big vehicles such as the Xylo can be a tricky proposition. We had to think and shoot, constantly reworking frames to get shots worthy of the Nirvana name. We wrapped up our first sunset shoot. Taking some time to relax and absorb the beauty that was Murud Janjira, with the Xylo by our side. The vehicle had performed well on her first day. We were now excited to see the rest of the trip unfold!
Spontaneity equals fun, always!
The whole premise of this road trip was spontaneity. Everything would be decided on the go. Be it the next destination, the next photographic angle or even what/where the team would eat, we were flying freestyle all the way!
Early next morning, we forgot to wake up.
It happens, too much prep and no relaxation before hitting the road can lead to this. Good sleep is most important on any road trip. Good sleep leads to good fun, we think.
Finally, around 10 AM and with everyone on the breakfast table, we bounced ideas off each other. It was important we did that, 5 heads and no calibration can lead to a lot of chaos with the lens. Having decided we would let our quest for exploration guide our shoot, we hit the road destination unknown! Driving through interiors of the Konkan Coast, it was inevitable that we hit the famous National Highway 17. The smooth and bendy roads of this highway were a good test run for the Xylo. Not to forget the five boys inside!
We drove about 200 kilometers on this day, finally finding ourselves in a quaint and almost completely secluded beach village, Hedvi.
If you haven’t guessed it yet, the Nirvana team loves beaches. We believe some of the greatest driving roads in the world run along the coasts and it’s no different in India. Another reason maybe that we love shooting images in those dreamy golden hours :). We had timed our arrival perfectly. Hedvi welcomed us with the perfect sunset vistas, not to forget the perfect beach driving opportunity. Until now we had driven the Xylo on good roads, bad roads, straight roads and bendy roads but now it was time to have some fun on the beach!
The New Mahindra Xylo: Practically Brilliant!
The stereotype of boring MUVs does not apply to this vehicle. The New Xylo is a very amusing car. Right from the voice enabled commands to the mind bending amount of space inside, the Xylo surpasses all expectations. To delve deeper, lugging all our camera equipment along with the team that makes it all work is no easy task but the Xylo was toe for toe with every challenge we could throw at it. We’re not shy of acknowledging the elephant in the room either, a car this big has to have monumental body roll right? Wrong!
The new Xylo with its comfort spec suspension once again had us snoozing in our seats as we munched those curvy coastal miles. Trust us when we say this, a hard working team loves a vehicle that takes care of its passengers over long distances regardless of the road conditions. Rumbling under the hood was the Mahindra’s flagship M-Hawk engine. We really enjoyed putting the 120 horses to work on the Indian highways, taking turns to drive the vehicle all throughout the Mahindra Xylo Mad Dash. We were impressed.
Boys will be boys and who doesn’t like making a splash in water?! As the Sun set over the Arabian Sea, we pulled up our socks and washed the behemoth off of the salt water from all that driving and splashing in the sea (basics!).
It is imperative that we mention more about the Hedvi village. Hedvi is something else, it is solace, freedom and fun all rolled into one exquisite ballad of beauty. We’ve always been in love with the simple and rustic charm of this place. The beach here is absolutely untouched by civilization and the village brings the same ‘middle of nowhere’ feeling into any stay at this place. Especially since there is no cellphone network here, time spent here is exclusively private. Which is something that helped us get in touch with the vehicle we were shooting even more.
Evening under the stars!
At Hedvi, the Nirvana Team had spent all its time interacting one-on-one with the Xylo. The climate here was so humid that we spent an entire afternoon napping inside the Xylo, you know, taking advantage of that exceptional air conditioning system. Night fell and we were out again, we realized that it’s the perfect vehicle to go camping with buddies. Oodles of space for camping gear and everything else one might need!
We hit the road early next morning. Initially deciding to stick to the coast as long as we could, in the Xylo, we explored a little bit of the Konkan (coast) one usually misses out on. We even took a short ferry ride (with the Xylo!) to get ourselves across a river. As the day progressed, we took turns suggesting our next possible destination. In the end, we needed the map to figure out where it is we could actually go in the time we had. As soon as the road map of India unfolded, Lead Photographer Nipun Srivastava exclaimed – Hampi!
The moment Hampi was mentioned, we took off! Hitting the National Highway Number 4 a little after lunch and then soon getting off it to head towards the prehistoric temple town that is Hampi, we were on a roll with our Xylo! We reached Hampi late in the night, a drive that was not just beautiful but also equally intense. We had spent an entire day travelling in the Xylo. To be honest, none of us were too tired so we treated ourselves to some well deserved pints of beer :D.
Hampi is a village about 850 kilometers from Mumbai, close to the town of Hospet in the South Indian state of Karnataka. This place is a true wonder of nature. Views of the landscape here are full of boulder hills in various sizes and shapes. Hampi is a site located within the ruins of the Vijayanagar Empire. It is older than the medieval city of Vijayanagara and is still of much religious importance. Hampi is home to the Virupaksha Temple – the main center of pilgrimage here and dedicated to Lord Shiva. On the banks of The Tungabhadra river which flows through Karnataka into Andhra Pradesh, Hampi is not just a religious stop for the Indian traveler but is also a place of wonder and amazement to the foreign tourist. Hampi to us was the perfect opportunity to photograph the Xylo in truly unique surroundings.
The Mad Dash team at Hampi!
Amidst the ruins our team of photographers had a ball shooting the new Xylo! We drove from one ruin to another and explored the unique architecture and rock–cut structures and boy did we have the ‘time of our lives’! On one hand, temples of the Vijayanagar Empire poke ones spiritual inner self and on the other the awesome expanse of ruins spread as far as the eyes can see make one wonder, how on earth did they manage to build this wonderland!
The Nirvana Team spent two days amidst the striking structures of Hampi. Six amazing days of travel, motoring and unparalleled fun were to be followed by one last Mad Dash across the states of Karnataka and Maharashtra to get us back home to Pune. Pack up – load up – rev up – kind of a theme now for us and the kind of work we do around here.
The Xylo MUV is regarded by most as just a people carrier and nothing more. Understandable, as it feels like one’s private cave on the road – it’s that huge. When Mahindra & Mahindra called us though, we were forced to look at the whole idea of the Xylo differently. As is the case with every vehicle we shoot/test, the can of worms opens first. Once that’s been dealt with, we head out with the vehicle to see if we were right.
Take a trip with the brand new Xylo!
The mood inside the Xylo on our drive back was surreal. Each doubt we had about the super-MUV had been quashed by the intense trip we’d taken in this car. So much so, we were even talking about getting one for the Nirvana Garage. Yes, the Xylo is that good! Turns out that our preconceived notions about the Xylo were exactly that, preconceived. Talking about personalities again, we think the Xylo knows where it stands in the ‘looks’ department. Like most underdogs though, it outperforms expectations and delivers on platter a lot more than one might imagine!
The Mahindra Xylo Mad Dash was conceptualized and executed by Nirvana exclusively for Mahindra & Mahindra.
Mumbai: (Client) Mahindra & Mahindra (Brand Xylo), for flying with us and for providing the vehicle.
Hedvi: Abhay Bhatkar, for the extremely personalized service to Team Nirvana.
Hampi: KSTDC Mayura Bhuwaneswari, for the best hotel deal in town!
Videos from the Mahindra Xylo Mad Dash!
Part 5 of Rooh – E – Rajasthan.
To read part 4 – Click here.
To read part 3 – Click here.
To read part 2 – Click here.
To read part 1 – Click here.
The capital of Rajasthan.
Entering the capital of Rajasthan was like reaching any other metropolitan city. Dug up roads, maddening rush, pollution and a whiff of what us city dwellers call life. The Marauder was clearly straining to keep up with my pace as with every twist of the throttle, she told me we needed to stop and get her checked out properly. From what I’ve noticed, it’s not just us humans who like the wide open road. Even our machines love the feeling of the wind tearing around them. The term ‘air cooled’ takes on a whole new meaning if you look at it this way. My entry into Jaipur was a little different from all the other cities I had been to.
Dusk was upon Jaipur as I rode onto its jam packed, grid locked and dug up streets. Jaipur is a huge city. It took me a whole hour to find my RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation) Jaipur abode, what with the various one-ways and blocked streets. That extra hour of snails pace riding had managed to break the ice between the city and I. As the sun said goodbye, I had pretty much matched the pace of Jaipur in my mind. One more thing, there was nothing here that would remind you of the desert. A two hour drive away from India’s capital city Delhi, here in Jaipur – there was no desert.
Just another metro.
The first night in Jaipur was one of those where you can’t stop thinking and sometimes forget to blink, looking up at the ceiling. Usually when too many thoughts cloud the mind, I head out on to the road with my motorcycle but here on this mammoth ride, I didn’t know what to do. Again, motivation is the key but I felt like all my trump cards had run out. Typical tourism was just not cutting it. Sleep came soon enough.
The sun was up as my eyes opened late. A pounding headache was what kept me in bed this long. I realised, it was best I take an easy day and not try anything too dramatic. The nearest coffee shop was a stone’s throw away, not that I mind the street side chai but I wanted something that reminded me of what I’m used to back home. A cappuccino in a white mug with some shabby latte’ art seemed like just the perfect fix. Like a proper city boy I pulled out my laptop and connected to the internet whilst sitting on the pseudo leather couch. Emails and notifications are what we all are used to checking but I also read up a little about Jaipur. I wondered why I wasn’t excited to check out this new city this time round, was I losing my touch? Maybe.
The state of one’s mind during travel is what defines the mood of the journey, I feel. If all is going well, even the simplest things can be a lot of fun. My motorcycle’s dwindling health was the biggest bother I had and it was eating my enthusiasm towards Jaipur. The only way I saw around it was to get her a good service here. The next day we set out in search of the elusive ‘Bullet mechanic’.
After some riding around, I found the Royal Enfield showroom. The people here were kind enough to escort me to their service station. As soon as I saw the red on grey sign board of the Royal Enfield service station, the persistent ‘sinking feeling’ in my stomach vanished. I was now sure that the problems the Marauder was facing would now be taken care of. Little did I know, that the service manager here would also tell me that nothing was wrong with my motorcycle. Frankly, the guy was just not interested in his job. There could be a million things I might be wrong about but I always know when my motorcycle is not doing well. They refused to acknowledge that there was a knock in the engine.
Royal Enfield at Jaipur.
Sadly, Jaipur too turned out to be a dud, as far as the bike was concerned. That afternoon after I had my lunch, I rode my bike to the nearest fuel station, tanked her up, parked her at the RTDC parking lot and sat down on the ground next to her.
There was a slight warm breeze ruffling the leaves of the mango tree above us and the sun shone through intermittently. The warmth of the motorcycle’s engine hit me with every current of air, the smell of oil had an eerie tang to it. Maybe it was just me I thought, maybe I was being too paranoid. I talked to my motorcycle, sitting there I told her that we had crossed the half way mark on our journey. Another 2000 odd kilometres stood between us and the completion of Rooh – e – Rajasthan.
I asked her to stand by my side the rest of the way and that we would not be able to get her rectified here. The last thing I wanted was to have some guy uninterested in his job trying to tinker with the engine. Yet again it was decided, I would ride like I would have normally and it was up to her to pull through for the entire journey. If she decided to give up on me while we were on our way, I would do what was required to get her back home safe on a truck. Until then, the mission was more important than the means.
Slowly the sun came down as the hour hand struck 5pm. That, for me is ‘get ready for sunset’ time! I sped down the road that leads to Jal Mahal, a palatial building which springs out of the middle of Maan Sagar Lake here in Jaipur. Parking for two wheelers here is relatively easy to find. There is a walkway on one side of the lake made for people with an interest for viewing the unique palace. Unfortunately, entry to the palace was closed around the time I reached but I had seen so many palaces already, I didn’t mind.
Jal Mahal during sunset.
I wanted to shoot some time-lapse footage of the lake with the suns light playing around the frame. I found myself a spot and set up. Both cameras clicking away, I was the centre of attention for more than a few passers-by. I was asked random questions by random tourists and locals alike, all in good vain of course. The short and tight conversations kept me busy and alert. Truth be told, one can never let ones guard down when travelling alone. Plus with all my equipment out and in plain sight, I was on my toes throughout.
Jal Mahal by night.
While shooting, I got a call from an old classmate who was now in Jaipur. He had seen my posts on Facebook. He asked me where I was and told me he would be there shortly. In the 30 odd minutes it took him to reach me, I suddenly went into flashback mode. Of the times that we were in school and the ones when all us kids parted ways after finishing school at Hyderabad.
Sachin Kumar, he was now a final year engineering student. He arrived, we met after about five years! We had so much to talk about that there was not a second of silence. The evening was just beginning to shape up as it became dark. Adventurous as usual, we decided that we’d ride to the top of Nahargarh Fort, at night. There we stories that this road wasn’t too good, the place was very secluded and that it was advisable to head to the place in the morning. Sachin told me that the view from the top was worth the risk. We decided to go.
As soon as I packed my gear, we topped up our tummies with some roadside grub and head to the fort. About 10 kilometres away stood the top of the Nahargarh Fort. The approach road winds through a bush and the road is not particularly smooth but in the dark with our headlights flaring, we made our way and reached the top. From here, the view of Jaipur is panoramic. The evening lights from houses and shops glimmer like a plate of sweets covered with golden foil. Oh boy was the risk worth it! Beautiful would be an understatement.
Night over Jaipur.
We spent well over an hour up there on the fort wall, looking at and shooting what was my first night panorama of the whole trip. This fort wall is quite the night spot. Youngsters come here often just to hang out and ‘chill’.
Clear skies and the Nahargarh Fort.
The night sky was clear and we were ready for some more action. From the top of the Nahargarh fort, there is a narrow winding road which leads down directly into the city. Interestingly, it is thought of as a dangerous and treacherous one as many people have lost their limbs trying to ride it. The same morning, I was told by local not to, under any circumstances, venture on to that bit of tarmac. Alas! Who could resist?
We started our motorcycles and head off towards the so called dangerous hill road. Bumpy it was but not really dangerous if you ask me. Only if you lost control of your vehicle would it be a threat and just like that we landed right in the middle of old Jaipur. Even Sachin didn’t quite know his way out of this mangled hodge podge of streets!
The rush of adrenalin from the ride was still on. We zoomed through the narrow alleyways and surely after a while of riding, the broad main roads of Jaipur revealed themselves to us. It was time for food. Both of us being hard core non-vegetarians, we went to a shanty restaurant which was anything but hygienic. Yet, the best food is often found where one dares to go. Fried chicken which could take you straight to an Angio and gravies which looked more like islands in a sea of red translucent oil were served to us. It was tasty and that’s all that mattered then. We both ate our hearts out!
After dinner, another day had come to an end. My buddy had to head back as he had classes the next day and I had to get ready for Jaipur. We said our goodbyes with a renewed promise to meet again.
Till we meet again!
Then, I set about getting my gear ready for the next day. Finally, I felt motivated enough to take on Jaipur as a tourist. The Hawa Mahal, Aamer Fort, Jantar Mantar and even the Nahargarh Fort were all on my list. There was a lot to cover and I couldn’t wait to get started.
Hawa Mahal & the true Jaipur.
As I learnt, it takes a while to get in touch with the real vibe of this city. One has to immerse the self in the history here. No doubt the city and its big buildings are good but the real Jaipur is under the surface, off the streets and beyond the present – the true Jaipur. Truth is that Jaipur didn’t always exist. It is a city made by the then Maharajah Sawai Jai Singh the second about 3 centuries ago. During that period, the actual city amongst these hills was Amber or Aamer as it is now known. Jaipur was founded by the Maharajah owing to the increasing population of Amber. It is a remarkably planned city and you’ll notice that if you look at it from a distance. Big roads and channelled buildings, more or less.
There is usually only one image which comes to mind when you talk about the Hawa Mahal and it is this:
Embrace the cliche’.
But there is a lot more to this monument than what meets the eye. Most people including the locals here will tell you that if you’ve seen the front facade of the Hawa Mahal, then you’ve seen enough but that’s far from the truth. Built by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh, the Hawa Mahal’s main exterior’s purpose was to enable the royal women of the kingdom to get a look at the world out side. Apart from that, the architecture and intricate latticework here is worth commending. When here, one can easily imagine how the ladies in their colourful attires must have looked on through these very jharokhas (small windows). That was a time when the system of ‘purdah’ (veil) was widely practiced among the women of India. Every palace you visit in Rajasthan will bear testament to the purdah system as there will probably be a room where the ‘palkis’ or royal carriages will be displayed. The palkis were carriages designed for the royal women to move around in, without being seen by regular folk.
A typical jharokha.
One enters the Hawa Mahal from the rear. A nominal fee is charged to tourists for touring the Mahal. It’s worth taking a guide along if you want to delve deeper into the beginnings of this monument and its architecture. Arches, arches and more arches, it’s like they are the sentinels of this unique monument.
The Hawa Mahal interiors.
Early morning is the time to visit the Hawa Mahal. The Sun’s position and its rays work wonders with the light here. It’s refreshing, almost like having a bath with cold water in the desert heat.
What you don’t see.
From the top, one can see most of Jaipur. Even the forts of Nahargarh and Aamer are visible from this unorthodox vantage point. You can also see the big sun dial at Jantar Mantar from here. What a way to start my morning!
Next up, the Jantar Mantar.
The greatest time teller of them all.
I could go all geek on you and tell you what each instrument here is about but I wont. A one of a kind collection of architectural astronomical instruments built by the Maharajah Jai Singh, it is best if one finds out on ones own. Zodiacs to sun dials, shadow clocks to other instruments which interpret the stars, each and every instrument here could interest you. Here are some photographs to show you what the Jantar Mantar complex is all about. Enjoy.
The Jantar Mantar complex.
City Palace, Jaipur.
Right opposite the Jantar Matar stands the City Palace. Home to the current royal family of Jaipur, one shouldn’t miss this place of tourist interest. Smack dab in the center of Jaipur city, the City Palace induces are calming aura of space and luxury. No wonder then that it is still, in a large part, a royal residence.
Don’t miss the City Palace!
A mix of Indian, Mughal and European architecture thanks to its architects – a Bengali gentleman, an Englishman and Maharajah Sawai Jai Singh the second himself, the City Palace houses all the usual requisites for a royal palace.
The architecture, a mix of European, Indian and Mughal influences.
Walking through the city palace interiors one can not only appreciate the architecture and pains taking mosaic work but also take a moment to relax and hang around, away from the loud noises of the city.
Detailed mosaic work at one of the doors.
Lunch was a priority as I exited The City Palace. I shot a little in and around the streets of the city till the light became too harsh and then headed back to the hotel.
Street side Jaipur.
After this days shooting, I was faced with a small problem. All the space I had to store my RAW footage was almost over. Also I had just one back-up of all the data. Now, being the prudent photographer, I had prepared for this eventuality in my mind. At the rate I was shooting all over Rajasthan, I was lucky I survived this long. In the evening I bought another big hard drive and got about transferring all the data and sorting out everything. This is the slowest, most time consuming and not to mention important part of a photographers’ trip. A big day was ahead of me. The massive Aamer Fort was on my agenda for the next day. I readied myself.
The Aamer Fort.
I sprang out of bed in the morning, enjoyed my tea and packed up. It was time go to shoot the Aamer Fort and it’s story. The ride to the fort was probably one of the most beautiful 10 kilometer ride/drive one can take in Jaipur, within the city. I remember saying that the Mehrangarh Fort at Jodhpur is imposing, well, the Aamer is way beyond that. From the road, as you drive towards the massive hilltop structure, the beauty and majesty of the surrounding hills and lake are refreshing. Even the road seems to have been built in a way that accentuates the ‘look’ of the Aamer or Amber Fort.
The Aamer Fort in the distance.
The lake, which is bang in front of the fort’s walls, is called the Maota Lake. This serving of fresh water at the forefront of the fort does well to prepare your brain for the next few hours of amazement and onslaught of beautiful history.
Lake Maota and the serenity of Aamer.
Ahead of the ‘Dil Araam Bagh’ or Heart relaxing garden, the massive ramparts serve as walkways and were used by royals on their elephants to climb up and in to the fort premises. The elephants are still there but the royalty has been replaced by tourists. A fee of INR 900 will get you to the top whilst you enjoy an elephant ride. Mind you, the line up for this is huge. I chose to climb up on foot, with a guide.
A typical day at Dil Araam Bagh, Aamer.
My guide, a middle aged gentleman from Jaipur, seemed skeptical of my intentions at first. He had never seen or heard of anyone like me. When I told him why I was clicking pictures, he looked at me with a puzzled gaze, as if trying to justify in his mind that I was not a fool on a wild goose chase. More than telling me about Aamer, he wanted to know about my history and future. Amusing to say the least, every once in a while he would offer to hold my heavy camera bag so that I could get a better shot. Rarely though will you find such hospitality anywhere in the world. Rajasthani men and women though, to me, seemed like the kindest and simplest amongst all.
It was a mighty climb I must confess, plus we had no choice but to give way to the tall elephants ferrying tourists to and fro. Finally though I entered the Aamer Fort’s inner premises. Straight away the splendour of the entrance gate left me dumbfounded. What a sight!
Massive entrances to every wing of the fort.
The several gates, known as ‘pol’ in Hindi, served as Gothic reminders of the era gone by. Those monolithic arches would pull the air out of every breath. Ganesh Pol, Suraj Pol, Hathi Pol etc, each had a characteristic defining feature over and above the awe inducing sight. The intricate mosaic work is another fabulous example of the craftsmanship of the day.
‘Suraj Pol’ or the Gateway of the Sun.
The view from different levels of the fort is panoramic and during early mornings and evenings, beautiful to say the least. If one peeks out of the windows, one can see the Saffron Garden or ‘Kesar Kyari’ right in front. Also in the view would be the massive fort walls which extend all the way to the top of the hills in the distance. Even after seeing quite a few forts in Rajasthan itself, I couldn’t help but gawk!
A view of the front with the Kesar Kyari in the midst.
Next come the courtyards of Aamer. I need only utter three words – peace, serenity and awe. At the risk of sounding as if I got carried away, I must confess, the Aamer Fort was turning out to be my favourite one yet. The gardens inside the fort, near the Sheesh Mahal only accentuate the unique feeling.
A courtyard of Aamer.
One interesting fact that not many will know is that there is a tunnel between the Aamer Fort and the Nahargarh Fort. Seemingly for the king and family to escape in case the situation ever demanded. To this day, they say, that the passage is functional. Only the Maharajah would know for sure!
The mystery passage.
Alright, the fort is all well and good but if you really want to know and experience the Aamer in a special way, try this out. Don’t go and tour the fort. First, sit through the Sound and Light show here, it is held at the kesar kyari enclosure.
Ready for the show?
An hour long show of dancing lights depicting the history of this fort and its rulers. It is by far one of the most interesting sound and light shows you’ll ever see in Rajasthan. Aamer has not only been preserved well as a fort but the sound and light show is the perfect cherry to go on the top of this historical cake.
The Aamer Fort, in the colours of the Kingdom’s flag.
If you do happen to take my word and see the sound and light show before the fort tour, you will get a better understanding of the happenings of yore. The time-lines will be clear in your head when your guide narrates the story. Oh and do take a guide, not the audio one but the human kind. The primary reason being, the human guide will take you places the audio guide won’t. Just behind the Aamer Fort, one can see the Aamer village, the Aamer hills and some temples – one of which is worth devoting some time to. I must say it, this was the most beautiful Durga Devi Temple I had ever seen in my life.
The imposing temple.
Very close to the temple is a small shop which sells clothes and accessories made by local cottage industries. Hosiery students have gotten together and put up a small shop where they sell their products. Their stuff is good. Women especially, will love this tiny little outlet!
If at heart you’re a small boy who likes big toys, then don’t mist out on the Jaigadh Fort. They house the world’s biggest military cannon here. Known as the ‘Jaivana’, this cannon was like a weapon of mass destruction in its hay day – an apt deterrent. It weighs 50 tonnes and it’s barrel is 20 feet long – enough said.
The world’s biggest cannon.
Food? The Nahargarh Fort canteen serves the absolute best ‘Laal Maans’ or red meat (a Rajasthani speciality) in town. Warning: It is spicy like it’s no ones business but brilliant for the Indian palette.
Day five was also my last day in Jaipur. Spending the afternoon and evening getting ready for the upcoming ride, yet again I wondered whether my hurting motorcycle would get me there. I believed that she could and with that, sleep came.
I left Jaipur early next morning. This leg of my motorcycle journey was symbolic of my turning back. Technically, I was now heading towards home. Only two cities stood between me and the completion of Rooh – E – Rajasthan. Even as I rode on the highway (NH8) my mind was slowly drifting into an introspective mode.
Yes, every motorcycle trip has a profound effect on ones personality and mind. You learn, you forget, you survive and you enjoy. I took many risks taking on this mammoth adventure – family, money, my own security and a whole lot more but as of now, things were looking up. An aura of positivity was building and my god does it bring a smile to your face when you’re near personal success.
Chittaurgarh, a small town just off the National Highway 8 between Jaipur and Udaipur was my next destination. Not many people even choose to visit this quaint town in Rajasthan. Yet it is one of the most significant places in Rajasthan’s vivid history. On my way, I had the good fortune of stopping at a small roadside pushcart, stood beside a railway crossing, to me it seemed like the perfect last stop before hauling to Chittaurgarh. I had the best chai of any road trip ever here! The best part was that all I remember of the place is the railway crossing and the pushcart. Today, I have no idea where this cart was and whether I would ever be able to find it, if I tried.
The bike did well to get me to Chaittaur. Even with the slowly but still growing engine issues, she was turning out to be a tough brute. This bit of my ride was very smooth as this stretch of the National Highway 8 leaves no stone unturned when it comes to quality tarmac. Soon, I would lay anchor in a sea of history, Chittaurgarh.
For more pictures from Jaipur, Click here.
In this article:
Number of nights: Jaipur – 6.
Distance travelled: Ajmer – Jaipur = 120 kms.
Motorcycle condition: Occasional misfires, slight over heating, engine noise (crank issues). She’s just being a Bullet.
Next destination: Chittaurgarh, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
Part 3 of Rooh – E – Rajasthan.
To read part 2 – Click here.
To read part 1 – Click here.
I turned off National Highway 114 and entered Jodhpur at what felt like the peak hour of traffic here. It was now noon. My dash from Jaisalmer had turned into an easy riding session most of the way. Jodhpur looked like a greeting card of commotion which was unfolding just as the bike and I rolled in. I learnt early that in this town, dust had the right of way and so did the oddly shaped black and yellow rickshaws. In a way this was a rude reminder of my dispatch from the calm caress of Jaisalmer. I caught myself thinking “I got a bad feelin’ ’bout this” (the way Will Smith would say it). The mid day heat was harsh, coupled with the dwindling dare of my motorcycle’s smooth run, I was crossing my fingers about Jodhpur.
I had to shake off all apprehensions as I rode towards my new RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation) home. The wheels of the bike crawled through the traffic as I finally broke free onto one of Jodhpur’s broad roads which led to the High court. Just as the city breeze started playing with the beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I reached my hotel for this city. RTDC’s Hotel Ghoomar was now my home for the next few days.
This RTDC Hotel was brilliantly located, right in the middle of Jodhpur. The receptionist, a Mister Kishore Kumar, had one heck of a sense of humor. I was welcomed with an open heart I have to say. Mr Kumar had quite an interest in photography too and that’s where we hit it off. After settling myself, Kishore ji and I spent quite a while discussing where in Jodhpur may one find good photo opportunities. The hotel itself, was decent enough. Thankfully, the RTDC has quite a few tariff categories, suited to almost any pocket.
Hotel Ghoomar and the rickshaws of Jodhpur.
Jodhpur was to be a long stopover, I knew people here. One of my Army friend’s family was stationed here. An uncle of mine was also in Jodhpur. Plus, most important, the Marauder was to get its all-important servicing done. She had come a long way since we first left on that chilled early morning from Pune. Dinner was to be had with uncle and the evening was spent looking at pictures I had clicked on my journey so far. This of course, was my first whiff of home food after Barmer. For some strange reason though, I felt, Jodhpur had an unsettling vibe to it. Unlike Barmer, Jaisalmer and even Mount Abu with their oozing positivity, Jodhpur was more a place where life as we know existed. It was a normal city, in a desperate rush to get ahead of its own self, trying to conquer time.
The bustle of the city woke me up the next morning. I sat in bed sipping on tea, looking at the curtain on the window play games with the sun’s light. Unlike other mornings, today there was no riding or photography to be done. The day would be dedicated to spending quality time with my motorcycle. This was a rest day. First, I made numerous phone calls trying to scout for an authorised mechanic here and found one. Then came the task of actually reaching the workshop in this new city. Now this is the part I love, deliberately getting lost in a city I know nothing about. Lanes, by lanes, small roads and big roads. Stopping every kilometer to ask people directions for the place I want to go to and then from being hopelessly lost to reaching my destination. This was my way of breaking the ice with Jodhpur. The hungry me stopped at one of the sweet shops and hogged on some local samosa/kachauri variants. In Jodhpur, it’s easier to find a ‘halwai’ or sweetmaker than trying to find a restaurant to eat food.
Breaking the ice.
Ismail bhai, an authorised Royal Enfield mechanic on Chowpasni road, gave my motorcycle a once over. According to him nothing was wrong with the engine but I knew better. There was a piston slap which was more than audible. Having said that, I didn’t want him poking his spanner in places he didn’t seem to know much about. So the bike just got some routine maintenance done. The breaks got cleaned and adjusted, the air filter was cleaned and the chain was oiled and adjusted. At such garages, which are dedicated to the Enfield, more often than not, one finds other motorcycle owners with a passion for the ride. Conversations with other bullet owners here were about our bikes and where I was coming from and where I was planning to go. Suggestions, route directions and warnings were all part of our banter. When I told people about what I was doing, most people would respond with a puzzled gaze. The ‘What is this guy up to?’ kind of a look. I find that amusing and it always brings a smile to my face.
To know that some people out there actually think something like this can’t even be done and for me to be doing it, that’s a gift I cherish dearly.
About three hours later, I scouted for a place to have lunch. Strangely, the crowded streets around Chowpasni road weren’t home to any interesting eat outs, apart from your odd ‘halwaai’ of course. So I went back to my hotel and had a very simple Dal and Chawal.
The afternoons in Jodhpur are hot, even in November. The tourist inside me was aching to go out and check out the sights but I wanted to take it slow. When on such trips, it is often easy for someone to try and get ahead of one’s self in the excitement. Which in turn leaves you tired and unmotivated when it matters the most, a bit like a marathon. You have to pace yourself all the time. Self motivation is key to surviving the length of such a trip. More than half the trip stood in front of my motorcycle and me, I kept telling myself to persevere.
Tea time again, sitting in the garden, I looked up at the sky. A strange haze of cloudy fume had cast itself over the evening, like a message written in cloud, telling me to stay in and not tire myself out. It was time for a reality check. I was worried about my motorcycle, as she hadn’t got the service I felt she needed. She talks to me, this motorcycle. Each other is all we have on such endeavours. I would spend at least ten minutes every day making sure everything was in order with her. I like to believe that she understands me. Because boy, when she talks, I have to listen. Just by the beat of the engine I understand what her mood is like. How the engine sounds tells me whether or not she is feeling up to it. At this point, I knew she was not in great nick. Right from Barmer, there was a faint change in the way the engine sounded. The metallic clang had increased ever so slightly as we covered more distances over the desert state. I did not know if she could stand by me throughout the trip.
Haze over Jodhpur.
All that thought didn’t mean a change in plan was in order, no.
Day three in Jodhpur and it was time to see what this city had in store for its tourist. The Mehrangarh Fort was one of the most imposing forts I had seen till date. It is difficult to spot from within the city as the buildings crowd the view but once you are on the hill road heading to the fort, the view is awe inducing. It almost catches you off guard, the Mehrangarh is that huge.
The Mehrangarh Fort, overlooking the city.
Thanks to my uncle, the fort authorities had been informed about my arrival. The moment I reached the entrance I was ushered through the crowd and given a complimentary pass to the interiors of this mega matrix of pathways, history and well, blatant robbery of a tourist’s time. Not for a moment will I say that the fort does not match up to what it promises. No, the place is brilliant and the history is more than intriguing but it is the way such places are managed and run in India these days. It felt like a dirty quest for money was the driving force behind allowing the common man access inside these walls. There was even a Rupee 20 charge to use the elevator. The security personnel at this fort, behaved as if they were doing a favour to the guest/tourist who dared to venture inside after paying for her/his ticket.
A strange rule prevented me from putting up a tripod anywhere inside the fort’s premises. This anti-tripod rule will chase you through many monuments in India. When questioned, the authorities told me that it is to prevent professional photography and videography but then again, you can tot a camera or a handy-cam all you want. They say one needs special permission to be able to put up a tripod and shoot, also, money needs to be paid to the fort management if you wish to shoot with a tripod. Wow! What a lovely explanation for such a nonsensical rule. Apart from the outright fleecing going on these days at such so called tourism savvy monuments, these regulations are made by people who have no real idea of the on ground situation or even knowledge of photography. Most professionals can shoot as well or better without a tripod or ‘stand’ as these people call it.
View from the courtyard.
This fort was mighty beautiful, from inside and out. As one reaches the main courtyard, one can see the blue city stretching out in front of the fort. When touring the insides, I noticed that sunlight had a special relationship with this monument’s architecture. At almost every arched entrance that you walk through, fresh rays of sunlight will rain down on you. Some of the Darbans or doormen may even pose for your camera if you ask them.
Romancing the Sun.
Inside, the brilliance in gold work will leave one gasping as you come to terms with the sheer scale of art and craft which is a part of every single royal expanse here. From regular rooms to August darbars, inside the palaces, stories keep one engaged all through. More than just a visual delight, the Mehrangarh with its history and tourism centric ethos gives the thinking traveller a run for his or her money. Quite literally.
Another interest inducing sight are the cannons which are kept on top of the broad fort walls. The importance of which is undermined by the tourist himself as you will see people climbing on top of the cannons or sitting on them.
A Mehrangarh cannon.
The most intriguing story here goes back to the time the construction of the Mehrangarh fort began. The hill on which it was built was known as the hill of birds. A hermit known as the lord of the birds used to stay on this hill and when he was forced to move because of the construction of the fort, he cursed the kingdom. His curse prevented the kingdom from ever having adequate water. To this day they say that the areas in and around Jodhpur suffer from drought once every four to five years. The stories also say that Jodha the ruler tried to appease the hermits’ curse by burying a man alive in the foundations of the fort. (The man) Rajiya’s family was looked after by the kingdom of Rathores.
Built on the hill of birds.
I must also mention that most of the fort is actually cordoned off for general public, entry is prohibited. Why? I have no idea. So much contrast between the past and the present allied to the less than ordinary experience of the fort interiors had left a sad impression of this place on my mind. Even though I was given free entry and treated with residual decency, what was actually happening here was for everyone to see. Money rules the roost here, take my word for it. After eating a kathi roll at the Mehrangarh café (the fort run restaurant) and paying 170 INR for it, I left.
Kathi roll and the Cafe’ Mehran.
Next on my monuments list was the Jaswant Thada. A building situated very close to the Mehrangarh fort and one of much aesthetic and historical importance. A mausoleum, the Jaswant Thada is a beautiful sight. The word mausoleum usually brings up visions of negativity and of life ending circumstances but this building induced quite the opposite sensation. Take off your shoes and walk on the grass here. Clutch the fence and look at the city of Jodhpur stretching out in front of your eyes right up till the horizon. Turn around to see the pale marble monument standing in the middle of the gardens with a spirit as crisp as the kings of yore.
The Jaswant Thada.
If that’s not enough, lend your ears to Bansiram. An old fellow of tradition. Let him welcome you with his voice, singing to you what he likes and what your ears would like to hear. Mark my words, this man has a voice which can challenge even the most honed vocals. Sitting in the courtyard of the mausoleum, Bansiram makes a living off of tips and adulation from passing tourists.
The Jaswant Thada was built by a certain Sardar Singh in the memory of Raja Jaswant Singh the second. One climbs the only flight of stairs and the aura of the building takes hold. The marble used to build this monument exudes a warm caress as the sun’s light falls on it. Those contortions which formed in my brain after the visit to the fort had now been levelled by the peace here at the Jaswant Thada.
Peace at the Jaswant Thada.
One last time, I skimmed the surface of the greens with my palm and moved on to the next palace of call.
Umaid Bhavan Palace. It is the residence of the royal family of Jodhpur and also a hotel managed by the Taj Hotels group. If you’re staying at the palace hotel, well, congratulations. If not, then you may not like this place very much. More than a sight to see, this place or palace is a cordoned off monument for the public. From 9am to 5pm every day, regulars can enter through one of the side entrances and walk to the museum. On your walk, you will get a side view of the palace.
The palace side view.
The museum showcases the history of the palace and its various owners. Photographs of the kings and princes in their prime are put up on all the walls. Plus, you can see all what you can’t see. What I mean is, you can see pictures and sketches of the layout of the palace, places where a tourist can’t go. Sad.
They have some lovely old world cars on display though. Which, let’s be honest, adds little to the experience of Rajasthan.
What the peaceful mausoleum had given, the palace took away. I was not liking Jodhpur, really. Day one to day three, not one moment here had inspired me. Not one instant had passed where I said to myself ‘this is it’. It was almost evening as I came out of the palace premises and started heading back to the area where my hotel was, uninterested in everything. I was trying to think of a way to turn the situation around. I wanted to try and put a finger on the pulse of Jodhpur, for what it really is. Instead of turning towards the hotel, I was taken to the clock tower or ghanta ghar. At this time, early in the evening, the place was choc a block with people, auto rickshaws and vehicles. It was the older part of Jodhpur.
Ghanta Ghar (Clock tower)
I walked around a bit and ventured into narrow lanes behind the main market. I saw what I call the band district. Shop after shop of local brass bands that play at not so big fat Indian weddings and during baraats lined one side of the lane. The other side was a brick wall punctuated with the bands’ colourful carriages. This was a little refreshing. Honest.
From here, I went back out into the city and gave the Mandore Gardens a span of my attention. These gardens are home to beautiful old temples which stand amidst filthy and unclean environs. The stench here is close to chronic. These gardens lie in neglect, sure, but the ancient temples overpower that repulsive feeling one gets in the gut at such a place. It’s almost as if the charm of the architecture and the history is more influential here than at the Mehrangarh fort. I spent quite a while taking pictures here. I didn’t know much about the temples or even the importance of Mandore as a place but as I now read up, it is obvious that Mandore is as important as Jodhpur itself. The ancient city of Mandore has been the capital of many kingdoms in its hay day. The stories here rekindle intrigue.
Gardens in neglect, Mandore.
For me though, it was time to call it a day or so I thought. On the way back, this time my driver and I spotted a jeep full of goats being taken somewhere. We decided to follow them, just out of curiosity. Guess where we landed up? To an auction of goats! As this was the eve of Bakr id, there was a goat auction being conducted somewhere deep inside the maze of old city lanes. There were 100s of goats being put up for auction. The trading of livestock was part of an ongoing tradition here. As I inquired, the most expensive goat had sold for a hundred and fifty thousand rupees (Whoa!).
An auction with a difference!
However tumultuous, this rather interesting day had finally come to an end.
I was to spend the next day socializing and preparing for the upcoming ride to Ajmer and Pushkar. But before I started packing there was a photograph to be taken. Starting with tea at 5am in the morning, I shot out of my room a little before 6 to try and shoot the sun rising over the Palace. I had a particular shot in my head and I wanted to get it as today was my last day in Jodhpur. I rode swiftly through the cold morning wind towards the fort; this route was now imprinted in my head. I reached the fort with dawn cracking over the blue mosaic of Jodhpur. I was in the Mehrangarh fort parking lot, since this point had a magnificent view of the city. I was hoping against hope to find the sun rising just behind the Umaid Bhavan Palace in the distance. I got ready with my gear with the sun still a while away from rising over the horizon.
Perched up top above this puzzling city I looked at how each morning in Jodhpur must be. The sounds of the morning were the same as anywhere else. Squeaking doors, occasional grunts of a diesel engine in the distance, a train blowing its trumpet as it left the railway station and of course the tens of birds which call the fort walls their home. This seemed like the peaceful side of the Jodhpur coin. Well, relatively.
Good morning Jodhpur!
The build up to the sunrise was happening. There were more people out on the streets in their walking shoes now, the sky had turned an orange-ish yellow shade and the horizon was lit up for the suns arrival. The sun came and rose like it does every day but sadly not from behind the palace, an arm’s length to the left of the palace actually. I was disappointed but also amused at myself. It was naive of me to think that the sun will rise from wherever I want it to rise. I should have put more thought into this photograph, oh well.
Sunrise over Jodhpur.
After shooting the morning colours for a short while, I went back to my hotel stopping briefly to have a cup of chai on a roadside cart. My final day in Jodhpur was upon me. Can’t say I was sad about it but there was one more thing left to do. Or should I say pilgrimage. You ask any passionate Enfield rider in India about a certain ‘Bullet Baba’ and I bet you a tenner he or she will narrate a short story about a not-so-ordinary temple close to Jodhpur. The Shrine of the ‘Bullet Baba’.
The Bullet Baba Temple.
Google it and you will find many a story about this particular temple of an Enfield a few kilometers before Pali on your way from Jodhpur. The temple is based on legend. Folklore in India is something that people swear by and if you’re ever here you will understand what I mean. It is said that in the summer of 1991 Mr Om, known locally as Om Banna (son of the local Thakur) was riding his 350cc Enfield bullet to Jodhpur. He was high on alcohol and hence lost control of his motorcycle, he ended up hitting a tree and breathed his last on the spot. Subsequently, his body was cremated and his motorcycle was taken to the local police station. The next day however, the motorcycle was seen at the accident spot.
The motorcycle and the fateful tree.
The police thought it was a prank of some sort and once again took the motorcycle back to the police station but sure enough the next day, it was back at the accident spot. As the local villagers got to know about these mysterious incidents, the legend of the ‘Bullet Baba’ was born. The locals enshrined the motorcycle on a plinth near the accident spot and now it is run as a full fledged temple of sorts. This motorcycle temple even has a priest who presides over the ceremonies. Drivers and villagers alike offer prayers and also hooch at this temple every single day.
It is also said that when any motorist has a breakdown on this stretch of the highway, Mr Om Banna comes to their rescue. Further they say, during the holy week of Navratri before the Hindu festival of Diwali, the motorcycle starts up on its own. Well, as they say, truth is definitely stranger than fiction. I don’t really believe in such stories if I’m honest but the sheer popularity of the Bullet Baba temple got to me. India and its stories are really amusing sometimes. With that I rode back to Jodhpur on my own 500 cc Bullet.
I spent the rest of the day tying loose ends, packing and just preparing. At the back of my mind though, I was concerned about the ill health of the motorcycle. Ajmer wasn’t all that close, it was 200 kilometers away. In the evening, I went to meet my Army friends. A refreshing evening it was with us all reminiscing about old times and talking about how far life has come. Good times.
Ajmer was the next biker destination! It was a city I knew little about. There was a little confusion in my mind because the Pushkar Fair was on and Pushkar was just 12 kilometers away from Ajmer. I wanted to see the Pushkar fair, yet I knew that I would have to choose between Ajmer and Pushkar. Deciding that I would leave the decision making for later, early next morning, I saddled up and left Jodhpur. Leaving Jodhpur was easy for me. The City had given me a cold shoulder, essentially. As I rode out, I wondered if I would ever come back.
Off to Ajmer!
Two hundred kilometers from Jodhpur lies Ajmer. I rode on the National Highway 112. I was now riding east, towards eastern Rajasthan. The sand was still present but the landscape had given way to proper shrubbery. I felt sad leaving the real desert behind. Now, the Marauder and I were heading towards the cities of Rajasthan. As I reached Ajmer, I had now completed the crossover from western Rajasthan to the eastern part. The afternoon heat was positively oppressive in Ajmer. The motorcycle was in a bad way, I could hear the piston slap loud and clear. I was worried that she would have to be transported back to Pune while I was in the middle of the trip. Having said that, I had made up my mind about one thing, I will not give up until she gives up on me.
If it so happened that I was riding from one place to another and she broke down, so be it. I would figure out a way to get us both to the nearest town and then put her on a truck. There was no way I would let my fear of a breakdown get in the way of our trip.
For more pictures from Jodhpur, Click here.
In this article:
Number of nights: Jodhpur – 5
Distance travelled: Jaisalmer – Jodhpur = 250 kms, Jodhpur – Bullet Baba Temple – Jodhpur = 130 kms. Total = 380 kms.
Motorcycle condition: Piston slap growing louder, engine showing signs of breaking down, occasional misfires.
Next destination: Ajmer and Pushkar, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
Part 2 of Rooh – E – Rajasthan.
To read part 1 – Click here.
Western Rajasthan, not a soul in sight.
A true desert town and on this day Barmer also seemed like a deserted town as I thumped in at around 12 pm. The sidewalks were empty and all the markets were shut. As I made my way through the empty streets, the noise from the bike’s exhaust echoed off the shops’ shutters. Later I was told that it was the day after Diwali and hence everything was closed. With the sun right over my head and the temperature rising, I was beginning to feel the sting of being out in the open. Riding the bike with all my gear strapped to me like a non air conditioned space suit I was feeling very warm. Even the breeze was hot. There was a stark difference at this point in my head. I had begun my journey from Mount Abu in the morning, a chilly hill station and now, I was quite literally in the middle of the desert with the sun bearing down. Such is the truth of travel, never before had I dealt with such contrasting vistas and weather, all in a span of 6 hours.
To be this far away from home and to realise that no one here knows you, it’s a strange feeling. I would talk to my motorcycle when we were on the road. My motorcycle and I, we communicate better than most humans do. I tell her where to go and she takes me there, anywhere. She also throws her tantrums and I deal with them. It’s one relationship I’m great at maintaining. Lunchtime was closing, for the both of us. At the fuel station, I was given a direction where I was told one could find a decent hotel.
Beautiful too, are the people of Rajasthan as I was about to find out. I put up at this hotel which had opened just 10 days prior to my arrival. They gave me a huge discount as they were new and my god what a place that hotel was! Key-card entry, sliding doors and flat screen TVs the works. In the western most part of the desert region of India, who would have thought? Their kitchen wasn’t yet operational, so I made my way to the only restaurant in Barmer which was open on the day and treated myself to some of the most amazing mutton I’d had in a long time. Back at the hotel, I was the only guest but as the evening came, came droves of people from Gujarat, travelling on pilgrimage to Tanot – a highly frequented Temple near the Pakistan border. The staff at Madhav Paradise – my hotel was limited but very courteous and they made sure I was comfortable, right from the start.
3 star comfort at Barmer!
Madhav Singh Rajpurohit, the owner of this almost 3 star hotel in Barmer, became my friend in the first instant of us starting our conversation. He was a fellow Bullet (motorcycle) man or ‘Bult’ as it is referred to in this part of the country. In the evening, we rode together to a place little away from the town centre where there were sand dunes! As we rode together, we spoke to each other about our lives, he seemed very intrigued by my escapade. He constantly asked me why I was doing this and each time I found myself wondering the same but tactfully answered with ‘Photography’. It’s not just photos for which I travel, no. There was something else which was pushing me, something which I couldn’t put a finger on just yet. Here was a man with big dreams for his town. Mr Madhav told me how he planned to change the face of Barmer by making it a healthy touring town. I could see in his eyes the fervor he harboured to make things happen in Barmer.
This was the first time I had ever seen dunes of sand and my friend was at his amusing best as he showed me how to make a miniature avalanche from sand. As the sand flowed over small sections of the dune, it formed pillar like structures of compacted sand. This was interesting! I never knew that could happen! The sun slipped behind the crest of these static dunes and the light was fading. Crickets had the right of way now. To be honest, I wanted to see and possibly shoot a scorpion. I had an image in my head for a picture that I wanted to click, a scorpion on the fuel tank and the setting sun in the background. I wondered if I’d be gifted with a chance to do this. Riding back to my hotel, through the village, the rear wheel occasionally skid on the sand covered road and each time it brought a smile to my face. Multiple realisations of being in the desert. I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
Here, in Barmer, I witnessed the true Rajasthani spirit of hospitality. As soon as the sun went down, I was asked my preference of food for dinner. I responded by asking Mr Madhav what he would be eating. I told him that I had never really tasted true Rajasthani food. He smiled and told me that he would take care of my dinner. I was served traditional staples of an Indian desert home, from Mr Madhav’s home! Crushed ‘bajre ki roti’ with buttermilk, a very spicy dish of fried okra and some kheer – an Indian desert. Can’t say I was bowled over by the food but it was the gesture and the friendship which had been extended to me by a stranger which touched me.
Yet again, the motorcycle was the icebreaker. Especially the Enfield and its charms have formed many a friendships over the years I’m sure. Here and now, in Barmer too, she was the reason two complete strangers spent an interesting evening together and ended up being friends.
I was riding along the National Highway 15, the next stop was Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer is the flagship city of Rajasthan. Smack dab in the middle of the Thaar desert, it is a real oasis of sorts. I readied myself for the ride and hit the sack.
The next morning, I rode a hundred and fifty kilometres north to the golden city of Jaisalmer. Golden it really is. This is the stretch of road when I really came to terms with my reality. I was singing songs which reminded me of my days as a child, hearing stories of the sand. Dad and his Army regiments had been posted here for years. I couldn’t help but feel patriotic as the 1971 Indo-Pakistan war was fought on these very sands. At every few kilometers, there were rural roads leading off the main highway heading into the yellow sands towards the border. I almost gave in to my temptations for a ride along the border but that needed permissions I didn’t have.
Arriving at Jaisalmer.
Within three hours of high speed riding on the NH 15, the Marauder and I were closing in on Jaisalmer. One could now clearly see the windmill farms which supply the border with electricity. I rode on further and the road now cut through the landscape with towering wind farms on both sides. A rest stop here and again the silence of the desert breeze hit me. Punctured only by the distinct ‘tink tink’ sound of the motorcycle’s engine cooling. India is a huge country, at no point is it possible to sum up its vastness and variety in a single breath.
It’s just gold.
They say the friendships that start with a fight are the ones that are the strongest. Jaisalmer and I, had a rough start. I was greeted with a bee sting on my neck as I entered the city, after which I found out that there was no hotel willing to accommodate me for 5 straight nights. So I made a few calls. The beauty of the city kept distracting me from my predicament. Sweating in the sun, making phone call after phone call and simultaneously trying to tend to the bee’s doings, I kept looking around as if to try and take Jaisalmer in, all at once. Suddenly it dawned on me that there was no point in fretting over accommodation. Even if I didn’t get a bed at a hotel, the Indian Army was everywhere and being an army kid I would at least get a safe place to park my motorcycle and at the end of the day that is all a biker needs. Just like that I felt relieved. Sat down on a sidewalk as the wind threw fine grains of sand into my face I looked over at my motorcycle, honestly, she wasn’t doing too well. The mighty Marauder wasn’t all that mighty anymore, there was a faint slap in the engines tone. Yet again I wondered if she could do this trip in its entirety and take me home.
As the pain in my neck became more bearable with each passing minute, things started falling in place, almost magically. Joy of joys, I was now put up at an RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation) tourist bungalow. They were kind enough to let me stay at my own mud hut (which is a theme of accommodation) for 5 straight nights. The RTDC setup at Jaisalmer was a very comfortable setting for me. Being a typical government guest house, I had complete peace of mind when it came to leaving equipment in my room or even parking my motorcycle. My mud hut had the basic needs taken care of, a usable bathroom, a fast enough fan and a nice big lock to put on the door.
Cuisine is important to me. Everywhere I go, food or should I say good food is a major priority every time. I was curious to find out what Jaisalmer had on offer for my taste buds. It was lunchtime by the time I settled myself and got ready to head into the city. Just about ready to leave, I was informed that my room tariff included one meal. Suddenly Jaisalmer’s ethos, it seemed to me, was trying to make up for its earlier misalliance with my arrival. I decided it was worth giving the guesthouse food a shot as I was going to be staying here for a while. I was greeted warmly at the dining room, which was like a fruit punch of sorts. The buffet spread had in front of it at least a hundred hungry travellers from all over the country, waiting on their turn to serve themselves. I joined the jamboree and soon found myself sitting at a table and chomping. The food was decent oily but edible. This was the first time I felt slightly lonely, looking at the other travellers and their self serving families.
After lunch I rode out onto the streets of a town I had already begun to get used to. Without all the riding gear, the afternoon temperature comforted me. I had begun to like Jaisalmer, a place that I was uncomfortable at only three hours ago. From my RTDC standpoint, I could see the Jaisalmer fort a small distance away. Just 10 minutes of riding in the same direction brought me to the foot of the fort. Only when standing close to the fort does one realise the scale of this structure. The road led to a monumentally congested makeshift parking lot and after a while of asking for directions and witnessing some quirky marketing I managed to break free and reach the actual Fort entrance.
Quirky marketing and the Fort entrance
Let me now try and explain what Jaisalmer really stands for. About a thousand years ago, the Jailasmer Fort was built and even today it stands tall with all its might. The fortress is visible from miles away and one wonders how in that age did they manage to build it. A king called Rawal Jaisal was behind its construction. The interiors are highly intriguing as this is the first ever fort I visited where I rode my motorcycle all the way to the top. All through the afternoon it looked brown in colour but as the sun’s light becomes softer one can make out the change in the fort’s mood. The Trikut ka teela or the Trikut Hill plays host to its massive three walled defenses. As I read up on the history of the fort, I begin to get an idea of Jaisalmer’s importance. In the medieval period it saw the rise and fall of many a ruler and was also a major bastion of trade in the Indian sub-continent. Even in the present day, Jaisalmer and its sands hold a strategically important place in India’s Geo-political existence. This part of the country has witnessed two wars between India and Pakistan.
At any point of time, there is heavy Indian Army presence in these parts of the desert all the way up to the border with Pakistan. Having said so, in and around Jaisalmer, one has to make an effort to spot a soldier on duty. You know they’re there but not always in sight, something which I believe helps the traveller feel more comfortable. I was certainly at ease. There were no restrictions on movement and one could walk the streets without nervousness. The streets of Jaisalmer are paradise for photographers and people watchers alike. In the morning as fresh yellow rains down from the skies, the golden streets light up and present a very pleasant ethos.
The Jaisalmer fort interiors were no different. The once royal pathways had now given way to cobbled roads which bear the weight of hordes of tourists, two wheelers and auto rickshaws. During the day, if you do take your vehicle inside, you will witness a very amusing game of incessant honking being played out. It can get so loud while you and your vehicle are waiting for some space that it could actually bring a smile to your face. I was amused all the way!
More than five thousand people actually live in this fort. Also, most of the fort has been converted, over time, into a one of a kind tourist’s shopping centre. Handicrafts, clothing, memorabilia and international cuisine roof-top restaurants are just some of the money spending options you will find here. Everywhere you look, from the walls to the smallest corners, one can see some item which is on sale. Not to mention the tens of ‘guides’ who will offer their services to you on your way up. At this point I caught myself thinking, this is not what I’m here for. A sudden second of realisation told me that the history here had been overshadowed by the rampant overuse of tourism for daily bread. Like a snail touched by a twig, suddenly I went back into my shell. In the middle of touring the fort, I stopped and turned back. My mind was a fistfight of thoughts. On one side stood the ‘image’ I had of this place and the other was defended by what I had just seen, reality. Was this Jaisalmer?
I spent the entire evening, having probably the slowest cups of tea I must have ever sipped on. Ogling at the fort from a distance, I sat on a flimsy ‘chaiwallah’s’ stool and watched the structure as it changed it shade with every falling photon of evening light. All through I kept thinking about whether it was a mistake coming here and changing that image of the desert in my mind. The conclusion came in the most uncommon of ways.
The fort over evening tea.
As morning came the next day, sipping on an early morning cuppa’, I stood at the outer courtyard of the guesthouse, an empty street in front of me and the breakfast buzz coming from the dining room inside. I was trying to formulate a plan of action as I had pretty much spent my entire first evening in Jaisalmer taking time-lapse footage of the fort. This morning I decided I should tour the fort like a tourist and not have preconceived notions about anything, it is what it is. On this day I chose to walk to the top and spent my time clicking pictures of the city architecture all day. The Patwa Haveli and Salim Singh ki Haveli that I toured, offer a small insight into the daily life and times of Rajasthani upper class. How they lived, how they cooked and how they got together in their homes.
The Patwa Haveli interiors.
Come afternoon, still pretty grumpy, I sat down to have lunch under the sun at one of the many roof top restaurants atop the fort. Coming back to cuisine, the food at these restos is more or less decent. The fact is, the economy of Jaisalmer thrives on tourism and hence competition is fierce, which in turn results in reasonable prices and decent quality. At least by my standards.
Roof top refreshment.
I was now wondering what to do for the rest of the day when suddenly I got my answer. Three Jaguars roared a thousand feet above my head and in formation they barrelled towards the open desert. With a morsel of laal maans (red meat – a Rajasthani specialty) in my hand, I looked on as the aircrafts disappeared behind the yellow buildings. My mind now was blank, the sound of those jet engines still echoing in my head. I made up my mind. I would head to the desert and by five the same evening, I had touched the sand.
I asked the guesthouse staff to arrange some transport for me and at three pm I was off towards the open desert but before the sand dunes there were a couple of other places to be seen. I wanted to give the bike a little rest and although everyone told me the road conditions were good all the way to the dunes at Sam I didn’t want to take a chance. A short drive out of the town had brought me to a place called Badabagh. Badabagh or ‘big garden’ is where one can see Chhatris or Cenotaphs belonging to long gone Bhatti rulers. It is a site which seems, for the most part, neglected by the development authorities, nonetheless it offers an interesting look at the past. If you take a guide, he will probably charge you 50 rupees and give you a small background about Badabagh. The carvings and the arches here bear reference to the number of wives each king had, amongst other things. A short tour of these cenotaphs might leave you thirsty for more but in your haste, don’t forget to look back as you drive out towards the main road. The open expanse is punctuated by the arches of the Chhatris at Badabagh and is a sight no photograph can do justice to. Try and be here around four in the evening.
Next comes Amar Sagar. A collection of temples sits off the banks of this almost dry lake. It is not the place a typical tourist will dedicate much time to though the architecture here, just like all over Jaisalmer is worth commending. Lodhruva and Kuldhara are two more sites in the area which are of historical importance and have interesting stories behind their existence. But the time for the sun to set was just a couple of hours away, so I instructed my driver to take me directly to Sam. I had waited too long to shoot in the dunes here. After spending a while at Amar Sagar, we made a dash for the sand.
Amar Sagar and its architecture.
Silhouettes. Sand. Serenity.
(Pronounced: ‘sum’) The first grains of free sand dunes hit here, about 5 kilometres before the desert village of Sam. On the way one passes the village of Kanoi, a village which is home to many a musical prodigy. A narrow and almost snaking road heads out from Jaisalmer and after driving for about 40 kilometres you will see tourists lining up to take camel rides up to the sand dunes. Even here, the chaos can get to you, if you let it. The most common camel ride is a 200 rupee, kilometer long trip to the sand dunes and back after the sunset. The photographer in me wanted more, a lot more!
I put my haggling skills to work and and got myself two camels. Sultan, the camel jockey, told me that he would be taking our team out into the expanse. For about half an hour we kept riding and swaying in the sweet desert breeze. For those of you who think ‘oh I can ride a horse, how hard can this be?’ think again. Hold on tight is my suggestion to all things camel riding. We made our way through the chaos of people and camels. It takes a little getting used to, riding on the camel, but once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty easy. As we left the ruckus behind, I looked around. The sun had now become a constant companion on my trip. Early mornings, late evenings and even hot afternoons, the sun made sure the bike and I had company. Six days into the trip and already I had gone through so many emotions in my head. Those ‘feelings’ that shrinks talk about.
The wind picked up slightly and I could barely hear the hordes of people we had left behind. It was a pleasant feeling, although I had my hands full. In one hand I was holding my still camera and in the other was an improvised video camera, simultaneously trying to shoot every second of this seemingly short journey.
Sultan asked me, ‘uunth chalaoge’? (Do you want to ride the camel?) I gestured to him and as soon as my gear was safe inside the bag, he threw the reigns of my camel to me and the camel took off. Riding a camel is not all that different from riding a horse as I learnt. Sultan and I were soon trotting alongside each other over the crests of dunes. Now THAT was fun. As I rode directionless, Sultan let me lead and feed my ego just a bit before asking me where I wanted to stop. I chose myself a virgin sand dune and we dismounted. An intelligent man he was and equally enterprising as I found out. He volunteered to parade the camels as I prepared the lenses I wanted to use this evening. Felt a little like a sand box dream, I ditched the footwear and let the sand tickle my toes to happiness.
Sultan, doing what he does best.
Within seconds of putting my feet on the sand, desert beetles crawled up out of the sand and started racing around the crest of the dune. These quirky creatures of the desert were something I never knew existed, all I could think about was scorpions and sidewinders. The beetles are amazing fun to watch and are really fast movers on the sand. It’s was pretty tough to get a good shot of them strutting their stuff. I did however manage to get a decent photograph of a beetle as the camels sat in the background.
Struttin’ its stuff!
In the next two hours, the sun went down and I kept clicking. Taking a break to watch the sun slip under the horizon, I could still see tourists in the distance, oh what a view! The sand in the air and the suns’ dwindling light made a beautiful soup of red. As numerous camels took their tourists back to campsites, I sat there on the sand with two puffing camels behind me. Lalu and Kaalu, the two camels had been good to me, like old veterans they looked over my shoulder unto the crimson horizon. To think of how far I had come, on a motorcycle, felt great. From my home in Pune to the middle of the Thaar Desert in six days flat. This wasn’t the end though, this was the start. I had ridden more than a thousand kilometers up until now but there were a lot more milestones to be seen. A long line up of destinations was ahead of me but before that, I still had one more day here.
Laalu and Kaalu. – Tourists heading back.
How serene this place has been. What with the numerous battles and wars having been fought on these very sands, like a sponge these grains absorbed what human life threw at them. Then it was the marauding enemy and today, the marauding tourist. Stoic. With that thought we saddled up. There was a cultural programme which had been organised by the RTDC at their campsite, where dinner would be served. Sultan, my driver and I rode on camel back all the way to the parking lot where Sultan said to me, ‘agli baar aur door jayenge’ (We’ll go much farther next time). I shook his hand and thanked him as I left for Dangri, the RTDC desert campsite. All these interactions this far away from home had made me understand how goodness, is present everywhere in this world. People here were the kindest and what about me, I was barely a stranger on a motorcycle. I can’t help but mention how beautiful Rajasthan is, not just for its sights but also from its people. My over speeding thoughts were cut short by our arrival at the campsite. I was greeted with a glass of water, which by now I had understood, in the desert is the best welcome drink anyone can gift you with.
The evening was off to a great start! Folk music, dance and some really interesting fire spitting was the order of the night. The open sky stretched across like a dotted blanket over the proceedings. It got much colder as everyone finished dinner and the customary final cup of tea. I met with the musicians and dancers after dinner, I wanted them to sing to me some of their folk songs. I wished to record them and then use the music for a short film I planned to cut later. They obliged me with open hearts and sang to me while I sat in front of them bewildered by their prowess. Bismillah Khan and his troupe were very amused and intrigued by who I was. Yet again, here in Rajasthan, the simplicity of these beautiful people touched me. It was time for me to head back, to Jaisalmer. In all honesty, I did want to spend the night at the campsite but my pocket just would not permit.
Fire spitting at the campsite.
The night drive back to Jaisalmer was nice too, cool wind and not a light in sight for miles.
Sleeping that night, I kept having visions of myself riding the motorcycle in the desert, next to the sand dunes. When I woke up, I just had to take the bike to the dunes and come afternoon, I did! Oh! The dunes seemed even more beautiful as I rode on past them and further towards the border. With grassland on both sides I kept riding for a long while, till my adrenalin settled. A water stop in the middle of nowhere bought back that silence of the desert wind. The Sun, yet again, our only companion.
Where the roads end.
One can’t miss the music here. Omnipresent notes will somehow catch the wind and reach your ears. The quintessential description of these desert towns and villages has to carry the words sand and sound. Life here revolves around the two. I made two very inspiring friends here. Mr Hariram Bhopa, a khandani musician from Jaisalmer itself and Mr Etienne Lauth, a French flutist who stays at Tiruvanamalai in Tamil Nadu but comes here for a few days every year, just to play with Hariram ji.
The Jaisalmer trio!
To them, my story of a lone man, riding across the desert in search of a muse was intriguing but above all, we all shared an unparalleled love for music. That is probably the only reason we became friends. From that moment on, music is what we did, they jammed together and I shot them playing their instruments. This was a captivating experience as initially we shot at Bhopa ji’s home at the artists’ colony in Jaisalmer where I met his entire family and then at the serene Gadisar lake. This was a golden opportunity presented to me and I made the most of it. Their music was beautiful and so was their soul. Just like the golden city.
The musicians at Hariram’s house and at Lake Gadisar.
I bid my dear friends farewell as the time for me to leave the city was nearing.
Jaisalmer had grown on me, from the bees’ sting on the first day to the dunes on the third and from the music to these fantastic people on the fifth. I had fallen in love with Jaisalmer and that love wouldn’t let me leave. I wanted to spend more time here but the rest of the trip was still in front of me. I had to trick myself into leaving Jaisalmer before the city woke up or else I would end up staying here another day. At first light the next morning, I kick started the motorcycle and she rumbled into her smooth beat. I said my goodbyes to the good people at the RTDC guesthouse and left. I rode across the city towards the road that leads to Jodhpur. The wind was the coldest of all the days I had been here, as if trying to freeze me within the city. I felt as if I was leaving a loved one for good. Even Jaisalmer, I think, had fallen in love with me.
Till we meet again.
Steadily, we reached the outer limit of the city. The sun had just hopped over the horizon on my right. It was only apt that I stopped here to say my final goodbyes.
That moment on, it was a dash to reach Jodhpur. A different city, it was a new place to explore. I was excited. The convoy after convoy of Army field guns on the road to Jodhpur made the ride that much more interesting. All the while I was trying to figure out what guns they were and whether I had ridden in the trucks towing them. I missed my army brat days dearly but this time I was on my own mission. Rooh – e – Rajasthan still had a long way to go before I could sit and look back.
The roads of Rajasthan were smooth as usual and the wind kept me cool as the sun climbed up on top of my head. A medium paced ride took me along the National highway 15 and NH 114 all the way to Jodhpur.
For more pictures from Jaisalmer and Sam, click here.
In this article:
Number of nights: 6 (Barmer: 1, Jaisalmer: 5)
Distance travelled: Mount Abu – Barmer = 250 kms, Barmer – Jaisalmer = 150 kms, Jaisalmer – Sam = 40. (Total = ~ 450)
Motorcycle condition: Piston slap audible, vague mushing sound from the engine.
Next destination: Jodhpur, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
Two years had gone by, just thinking about this adventure. One on which I’d be alone. Just my motorcycle and that’s it. No friends, no company, no backup and no escape. I would head into the desert state of India and ride from place to place, tasting tourism at every step. Relive the clichés and see if it was possible to survive for that long, alone.
You won’t die, I said to myself as I started packing for the trip. It was not to be a survival trip but such trips are never easy and one can never be prepared enough. 2011 had been an eventful year already – I had spent a month in Africa, driven across Maharashtra and Gujarat with the Nanos, shot huge events and even been on countless bike rides. But for some reason, it felt incomplete.
Rajasthan is one of the largest states in India and its party piece is the Thaar or the Great Indian Desert. We have all had visions or seen images of camels and turban clad men in white, women in dressy reds walking on sandy streets and over curvaceous dunes. Rajasthan is also home to imposing forts and Gothic monuments which narrate stories of ancient times. Kings and kingdoms, Sultans and their Sultanates – all were heard about. Only heard about and seen in pictures or movies, never felt.
Rooh – e – Rajasthan 2011
The motorcycle journey.
Come winter of 2011, I decided that it was time to head out. I was to ride north across Gujarat and enter Rajasthan on my motorcycle. Why on a motorcycle, you ask? Well there are two answers to that.
The first one: A motorbike ride is the best way to experience the landscape and be independent all through the journey.
The second: It’s the only way I feel like I’m travelling. A plane, train or car just doesn’t cut it anymore.
I had spent so much time thinking about the destinations on this journey for the past couple of years that now I could recite the route I wanted to take in a single breath. It felt as if there would be no better time to leave home. The day finally came.
The saddle bags were stuffed with stuff and the cameras cleaned. Tank brimmed and it was time to ride out. I left the comfort of home to see if my dreamy idea of a ride across the sands could actually be realised. At the start, there was a fellow rider with me. He was riding towards his home in Gujarat. We started our ride together and then he turned off a little ahead of Surat on the highway. That was the end of my company on the ride, or so I thought then.
On the second day, as the sun got ready for another setting, I crossed the Tropic of Cancer and reached the foot of the Aravallis. At the foot of Mount Abu, I stopped for some tea and whilst sipping on the smoking golden potion, conversations started flowing. The random stranger sitting next to me, the chai-wallah and I started speaking about where I was coming from and where I’d planned to go.
There’s a feeling you get when you’re on a motorcycle ride. One moment, an instant where you realize – that these are not ordinary road-trips. This was most certainly not a typical trip. The dream ride had started.
Twenty kilometres of smooth winding roads took me to an elevation of about four thousand feet. The sun was setting, the mountains were moving in front of me with each turn. The now cool wind hit my dust covered face like a splash of cold water and the setting sun just added to the drama in every moment. This stretch of 25 kilometres and its curves is what made it all feel like the long haul from Pune was worth it. Even before I had reached my destination for the day! Turn after turn the sun played hide and seek while I overtook the ever effervescent Gujarati families in their sedans, getting those ‘looks’ every biker will tell you about. I felt at home and peaceful on this hill road.
A typical tourists’ loaf, Abu has greenery, a lake, the Dilwara Jain Temple and Guru Shikhar – the highest mountain in the Aravallis. Not to mention a gazillion hotels and guest houses.
Mt Abu , at an elevation of about 4000 feet is the only hill station in Rajasthan and is frequented by tourists throughout the year but never more than in the summer. The elevation above sea level provides breath giving respite to tourists from the hot states of Rajasthan and Gujarat. This is the land of Gurjjars, an ancient ethnic group. The roadside ‘paanwallah’ tells me that the ancient name of this area used to be “Arbudaanchal”. Interesting how us humans fall into conversations over just a few pieces of gum. He also informed me that I shouldn’t head out alone too early in the morning to shoot the sunrise as this area is home to some bears, which aren’t afraid of humans anymore, thanks to the rampant tourism. Though I think, since it was Diwali and firecrackers were bursting everywhere, even if there were bears around, the loud bangs and thuds must surely have shooed them away. Still, one can never be too careful. During the Hindu festival of Diwali, is the perfect weather to come here but not the perfect time. Tourists from Gujarat and Rajasthan flood Mount Abu during this time. Hotel accommodation is next to impossible if you’re a biker like me and prefer to scout for a bed after you’ve reached your destination. I was lucky I got 2 nights at an upmarket hotel after some major hotel hunting.
You may not feel like you’re in Rajasthan here, so touristy is the ethos of this hill town. Still, for the religious folks there is the Dilwara Jain temple. They say its architecture rivals that of the Taj Mahal. Entry for non-Jains is allowed from 12pm onwards and photography of any kind is prohibited (Why?). One can’t even take a cell phone inside.
Mount Abu is also home to the well known ‘Bhramakumaris’ – a cult of spiritually inclined people.
The Nakki lake, a major ‘attraction’, is a place where one can pay for a boat and take a small ride around the lake. There is one man here; he is old, blind and a musician. During the day you will find him at the lake and in the shikaras playing his instrument and singing songs. Just to hear him sing, the boat ride is worth it.
Nathu ji and his music.
Toad rock, a rock which looks like a frog is seen commanding the lake when you’re taking the boat ride. A small trek up to the rock will reveal a panoramic view of Mt Abu with the Nakki lake as its centrepiece.
There is also a small wildlife sanctuary here. They say the trails here are worth a trek but what I found most fun was the ride up to the parking lot. Broken road, narrow and covered with flora on all sides. It’s short but fun.
Spot the bike!
To be honest, Mount Abu offered nothing substantial for someone looking for a muse. Make no mistake; this place can be beautiful if you have the eyes for it and the time. To me though it felt as if the hill town was trying desperately to cling to its Rajasthani roots and earn a living off it. Everywhere you look there are shops and hotels aimed at the tourist. I wondered where the real Mount Abu people were.
As Diwali here came to a bittersweet end, I left. The map of Rajasthan took on its first fold.
I rode into what felt like the real deal. Gradually, the lush green gave way to a barren flat land with shades of brown. One straight road cutting through the landscape and nothing else, that’s what it looks like in the desert. The sand was visible now. I had to be careful of thorns from roadside bushes puncturing the tyres.
This road was smooth, not a bump. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what I was up to. This was going to be a brilliant experience and that is all I knew.
The sun came up behind me and suddenly, I entered the district of Barmer. There was no turning back now. I stopped to wrap my head around the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here, except the road, my motorcycle and me. It was so quiet I could hear the sips of water slip down my throat. The gentle morning breeze whistled in my ears as I looked on.
Almost nothing in sight.
That feeling of uncertainty had deserted me and the adventurous streak had set in. I got a glimpse of what it was going to be like over the coming month!
For more pictures from Mount Abu Click here.
In this article:
Distance travelled: (Pune – Ankleshwar – Mount Abu) = 875 kilometres
Number of nights: Ankleshwar = 1, Mount Abu = 2.
Motorcycle condition: All good.
Next destination: Barmer, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
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Rajasthan, the land of sand and more.
From Jaisalmer to Jaipur, this vast state titillates the imagination with visions of loitering camels, boundless sand dunes and august forts. To say that it was a dream to ride across these sands and experience what this land has to offer would be an understatement. Two years had passed in the run up to this monumental and personal undertaking. Finally though, we did it. Over the twenty eight days which I spent on the road with my trusty motorcycle, we covered over four thousand kilometers. I met more people than one would ever imagine and experienced more than I ever thought possible. The alluring scent of the scenes here is made up of so many aromas and vistas that it is next to impossible to try and put in words its brilliance.
A motorcycle man head out alone into Rajasthan to repaint the canvas of his memories from early childhood as the son of an Army Officer. Roads were ridden and sights were seen, people were met and food was eaten. With every rise of the sun came new milestones and bastions which gave way to brilliant frames and the setting sun. Each night was a realization of a new human being taking shape inside. Each moment was a revelation to the eyes of my time on this land. This is a journey of two characters. The man – Me and his Motorcycle – The Marauder. Every day they travelled and did what tourists would do in a new town. This will be a glimpse of their story over those twenty eight days. Not only will you witness the pleasure of being on the road but you will also view the emotions that drive a person. On good days or bad, the need for self motivation is a constant on such endeavours, out on a solo trip, it takes more than just the will to leave home.
Over the coming weeks, you will be enthralled with content from this motorcycle ride across Rajasthan. One by one, the destinations and their sociology will compel you to get out of your chair and head out on your own. Once this was a thought, today it is reality.
Ladies and gentlemen, I bring to you Rooh – E – Rajasthan 2011.
Treat yourselves to the poster shots from this mammoth trip: Click here.
The trip has started! Go ahead and read!
Part one: Chalo Rajasthan!
Part two: Rajasthan. The western sector.
Part three: Marwar – Central Rajasthan.
Part four: In the hills of Rajasthan.
Part five: Rajasthan – The Capital City.
Part seven: Southern Rajasthan.
Part eight: My journey home! (Finale’)
Rooh – E – Rajasthan, the film.
A film by travel photographer Nipun Srivastava about his 5000 kilometer solo motorcycle journey across the desert state of Rajasthan in India.
Nipun set out to shoot the cities in Rajasthan with his cameras and ended up with one of his favorite pieces of written/photographic work.
With the lack of decent video and audio equipment, Nipun set about shooting his experiences in video with only time lapse footage and shots taken with his cell phone and DSLRs.
Video produced by: http://www.theroadtonirvana.com
Editing-Direction-Narration: Nipun Srivastava.
It’s that time of year again. The mountains will soon echo with the sound of motorcycle engines. Hundreds of people will leave their homes and comfort zones alike, taking charge of their existence with the help of two wheels!
The things in life one decides to do before it’s too late are many. For a freakishly increasing number of motorcyclists in India, riding to Khardung La aka the Khardung pass a little distance from the town of Leh in Jammu & Kashmir, is the ultimate achievement.
To Khardung La!
It is a very personal experience and an equally personal endeavour, this. The Khardung La is located at a height of about 18380 Ft, on the way to the desert towns of Disket and Hunder. From the high altitude town of Leh (11000 Ft), the mountain pass is about 50 kilometres away.
If you think there are things in life more important than riding a motorcycle over maddeningly bad terrain and beautifully dangerous roads to the highest motor-able road in the world, just ask any Royal Enfield (Bullet) rider. She/he will surely set your thoughts straight.
Into The Mountains
For most bikers, riding in Ladakh on the mountain roads which wind their way through the Himalayas is a challenge. Everybody can do it but not everybody does. It takes courage of a different kind to actually set out on this special road trip. The hurdles a motorcycle and its rider face when on these high altitude roads are positively uncountable. Mind you, that is a major reason why one sets out on most adventures, isn’t it?
Night in the mountains.
Controlling a motorcycle while riding through slush, gravel, sand and even torrential streams are just some of the things a person on this endeavour will have to endure. Not undermining the fact that high altitude always has nasty surprises up its sleeve, if you aren’t acclimatised properly. The air is thin up there, oxygen is less and so is the room for error while riding on the ultra-narrow roads. Almost 85 % of the roads are mountainous where on one side is the mountain itself and the other side is a cliff or a raging river and no, seldom will you find any barricading to save you, if you’re planning on going over i.e.
Long way down!
One can never underestimate the power of the weather here. They say ‘If you don’t like the weather in Ladakh, just wait five minutes’ and it is actually true. The weather can change with every blink over the Ladakhi landscape. You will be treated to ice cold rain and snow, winds fast enough to throw you off your feet and people who are as beautiful as they are calm.
Whether you ride solo or you ride with a bunch of people like yourself, this adventure will affect you as an individual. Call it philosophy or call it spirituality, either way, you will be a changed person by the time you reach home. Many have said before that the isolated existence and the feeling of being removed from the ruckus of everyday life is the real reason why people go to this place. There is a lot more to Ladakh than just that. It is that place where no matter what your age, you will meet yourself, the real you.
We’re not going to talk about how one should take this trip. Frankly, we have no right. Do take the trip if you get a chance though. Leave that chair, head out, stretch right up and touch the sky.