Tripping in Gujarat: Part Four

“Abey, I need to take a dump,” bemoaned Neil. As if through a very weird and gross cosmic connection, his bowel movement triggered an uneasiness in the rest of us too. We echoed, “Yes. Let’s stop somewhere.” We were on the way to Gir and pooping on the side of the road wasn’t acceptable to our cultured souls. Fortunately Raju bhai knew a petrol-pump restroom that was clean. It is at Jetpar, just before the left leading off NH8B that has to be taken. It’s clean. Fit even for ladies. Nelson used it.   

After we had concluded our business at the gas station, we made one more stop for tea and made our way to Sasan Gir. We caught some shut-eye in the car. We reached Sasan Gir by 3:30 am. We had an hour and half to kill before we could stand in queue to book our tickets. (You can do it online as well or be retro-cool like us.)

4:05 am – All of us, “You go stand in the queue. I’m sleeping.”

4:45 am – Raju bhai, “Snore!” 

                   Nelson and James, “ZZZZZ.”

Neil to Jenson, “Pattis. If we spot a lion we’ll throw those two out of the jeep.”

So as it transpired, Neil and Jenson stood in line for about an hour and half until the gates opened at 5:30 am after which they came and woke me up for a pen. A freakin’ pen! At that moment I wished I had a pen in my hand so I could stab Jenson in the eye and dance atop his sleep-disturbing black hole of an eye. But if there’s anything years of education have taught me, it is that one must not act on such whims. Groggily, I scavenged a pen from my backpack and accompanied Jenson to the counter.

Warning: If you’re sleepy, half awake, hungover or dislike loud noises, then stay away from the counter.

There’s a ‘mota bhai’ sitting on the other side of the counter yelling out guide names and etching the word ‘NEXT’ with his fingernails on a blackboard. Coupled with the shrill malfunctioning of the mic, his voice was the sole reason why lions never approached the booking office. To this day, I get nightmares in which my nightmares are driven away by that voice.

The pricing is as follows:

Rs 1200 for the Jeep + Rs 200 for the guide + Rs 400 for the entry permit = Rs 1800 + (Rs 100 if you wish to carry a ‘professional’ camera with you.) No charge for mobile phone cameras.

The cost is for 6 people. If you’re alone you can find an empty spot in a jeep and share the price or you can foot the bill alone.

Each jeep is allotted a particular route. We got our guide, driver and jeep and we began our quest to sight a lion along route 8. 

The excitement within us was palpable. We hadn’t slept properly in 22 hours, yet we were wide awake. Our eyes were peeled, scanning the forest for any movement. We couldn’t let the brown Earth camouflage our brown target.

Soon, we spotted a lion with white spots. Wait...what...that’s a deer, my brain realized. Apparently, I was still a bit groggy. We stopped to click photos of these tertiary tourist attractions. The ‘hardly ever spotted’ leopard is the secondary crowd-puller. There are monkeys too, but we had had enough of looking at each other.

We powered on, passing village settlements of the Siddi people (an African tribe). They seemed least interested in the passing jeeps. Looking at them made me wonder why did man move out of nature. But then my recidivist mind thought about air-conditioning, playstation, computers and other amenities which made me wonder, how they could be satisfied living in the forest. Perhaps Eden lies somewhere in between. But for now, technology RULES!

We reached the end of our path and we still hadn’t seen a lion. Our guide and driver kept assuring us that we would and that we still hadn’t reached the place where lions sprawl around on the ground right next to the path. 

Just as we turned the car around, it broke down. The jeep wouldn’t start. Our driver got off, opened the bonnet(hood) and bit a few wires but the jeep wouldn’t start. He decided to call for help. For that, he needed to get up high. The things we do for cellular coverage.

He ran into the forest and climbed up a tree as fast as a monkey. Years of practice from his car breaking down, we assumed. Yes, we were pissed off by this time. We hadn’t spotted a single lion and we were very tired and sleepy. Our guide instructed us to stay in the jeep. So naturally we got off to stretch our hands and legs. 

After a few photographs for posterity, our guide ‘shhhushhed’ us. He pretended to listen to something suggesting a lion was close by. Our driver climbed down the tree and came scampering towards us. He was pointing to a point behind us. Neil turned in that direction and saw……nothing. There was nothing. The driver continued his charade and ran in the direction. He came back saying, ‘I thought there was a lion there. But no.’ Ya don't say.

We took a different path on the way back. The drive is quite long. After a while of scorching the forest with our un-blinking eyes, we dozed off. Needless to say, we didn’t spot a single lion. Apparently our batch was the unlucky one. 

Most of my friends have seen lions in Gir. My friends…pfft.

This was the main Sassan Gir safari. Close by is the Devalia safari at which you are guaranteed to spot a lion. It seems they have enclosed a certain area (around 32 kms). However, Devalia is closed on Wednesdays, the day we were there. Karma is a bitch.

We were bitterly disappointed. We would have to settle for our cake without the icing. We sulked for an hour or so until we reached Somnath mandir with Raju bhai. Then we sulked some more. We trudged along drearily, not wanting to take off our shoes to enter the temple. We clicked a few snaps from the outside and then made our way back to Rajkot.

Raju bhai sensed our disappointment and took us to Sakkarbaug or the Junaghad zoo, which is also closed on Wednesdays. Thankfully, it was open since it was during the Shivratri week. The zoo has a variety of animals, not just deer and lions. Take a look.

But by the end of it, not even a lion running loose in the zoo could amuse us. We wanted nothing more than a bed..in an air-conditioned room…something to eat…and maybe a nice shower.

“Raju bhai, don’t stop. Full speed ahead to Rajkot,” we bellowed. We reached Rajkot by around 6:30 pm. We booked a room in Hotel Evershine. (AC room for 2 + 2 mattresses on the floor + breakfast = Rs 2300). It is at Lembda Chowk. The whole lane is full of decent hotels which aren’t too expensive. 

Thanks, Raju bhai

There are also many travel agents nearby. We booked our bus to Mumbai for the next evening.

In the night we went for a stroll. Shama suggested a place called the Grand Thakar for dinner. Walking distance from Lembda Chowk, it’s quite famous in Rajkot. The thali is Rs 190. We were very under dressed for the place but we were on holiday. Thus without giving a rat's arse, we went in anyway. 

As it turns out, they do not serve the thali for dinner. We ordered a few rotis and a paneer dish. The food is good and reasonably priced. We came back, slept, woke up late the next morning, bought some sweets and into the bus we climbed.

That was that. We were on our way back to Mumbai. It was an amazing week. Funnily enough, I remember all 7 days.

Ever since my Eurotrip, I have this urge to travel. The destination isn’t a concern as long as I’ve never been there before. I'm beginning to understand how travel changes you. I still can't explain it. Perhaps I will understand it better on a solo expedition. Soon. 

Right now, for those who ask 'why do you want to travel?', all I can say is I don't know. Why do you not?

Tripping in Gujarat : Part Three

We could only see as far as the dipper light would let us. We were running out of options when suddenly a vehicle from the opposite direction came speeding at us. Its high beam was blinding us. We couldn’t see anything. Thankfully it passed us by with no harm done, except Jenson yelling out, ‘Abey, use your dipper you #$%%^.’ That wasn’t the last time that happened. There were quite a few headlights and abuses but we made it to Bhuj quite safely. 

Neil and Nelson led the way on their ‘Rodeo’ while Jenson and I followed cautiously on our ‘Activa.’ Yes, those were our ‘bikes.’ Machismo became us.

We were in Bhuj by dinner time, desperately searching for some place to eat. We stopped at a ‘bhajji’ cart on Hospital Road. Right opposite it was the restaurant, ‘Ashapura’ meaning ‘wishes fulfilled.’ The restaurant really lived up to its name. It was the best ‘veg thali’ ever. 

Rule : the taste of the food is directly proportional to the length of time one is seated after eating. Better the taste of the food, the longer you sit after eating. We sat for 15 minutes before we could get up and leave. It was that good. To quote all four of us, “Aur ek fruit salad lana. Do chapati aur. Thoda aur chaas dena. Ye vala sabzi bhi dena.” (One more fruit salad. 2 more chapatis. A little more buttermilk. This vegetable please.) The thali includes 3 vegetable preparations, poha, a kadi,  dal, chapatis, khichdi and some sort of biscuit. Oh and it’s unlimited. Though most of the preparations were sweet, sweeter options included shrikhand and fruit salad. The ‘sweet dish’ is not included in the thali and costs Rs 30 every time you call for one. We found that out once the bill came. To wash it all down, chhaas is poured. It’s included in the thali which costs Rs 80. 

The awesome food is backed up by good service. Waiters hover around you with the dishes. If you ever go to Bhuj and want to eat like a king but pay like cheap Malayalis like us, EAT HERE.

Jenson seemed heavier on the ride back. As I made it known to him he replied, ‘BURRRPP’. It was eloquently put, I must admit. No one could have said it any better.

We had to make our way to Gandhidham next day, so we decided to hit the sack. So after one punch to Jenson’s stomach we all went to bed. The drill was the same: decided to wake up by 7; argued about who would get up first; the next morning woke up by 8:30. We were out of the house by 10:15 or so. There was a slight problem though. My ‘bike’ wouldn’t start. Tilted it, kicked it and tried everything short of blowing it up, yet it wouldn’t start. We finally stuck a stick into the petrol tank and it came out dry. The bike was out of petrol. Neil went out and got some in a bottle. Jenson was given the task of pouring it into the bike. Guess how much of it he spilt out. But he did manage to put enough into the tank to get us to our destination.

We then walked around the Bhuj market. You get everything from cow bells to bangles, green lanterns (not the comic book one, though it looks a lot like the power battery) to saree borders. We shopped a little, ate dhokla with chutney and curd and made our way to the ST stand. It isn’t far off.

The ticket cost Rs 40 and we were at Gandhidham within 2 hours. We got off at a stop named IFFCO (Indian Farmers Fertilizer Cooperative Limited). 

By now you must’ve guessed that all 4 of us are Malayalis. Thus we were picked up by one of our ‘Malayali Christian uncles,’ Jacob bhai in Gandhidham who owns a bakery in Oslo, Gandhidham. The name is Unity Bakery. If you’re ever in Gandhidham…

Needless to say, we met another one of our uncles and headed for lunch to ‘Big Bite.’ It’s a place that serves Kerala ‘oon’(lunch plate aka meals) and Kerala parotha and chicken curry in Gandhidham. I took a picture of Neil with a Malayalam newspaper there just to prove that we Malayalis are everywhere. 

The ‘meal’ was alright but the parotha and chicken weren’t good. 

Meeting the priest of the Mar Thoma Syrian Church, Gandhidham was next on the agenda. He also took us to the school they were building.

Late in the evening, after stuffing our bags with some bakery items we hopped on the 7:30pm bus booked by ‘bakery uncle’ to Rajkot. It was a comfortable ride and the entertainment factor was provided by the pirated version of ‘Highway’ playing on the TV. Since it was a private luxury bus, the ticket was Rs 250. 

We reached Rajkot by around midnight and asked our driver to meet us. Thank you Shama, for giving us the number. (Shama is my friend in Rajkot. She’s a clinical psychologist. We had half a mind of sending Nelson to her, but we decided against it since he was the only one with a DSLR.)

Our driver was named Raju bhai. If you remember, our host in Bhuj was also named Raju bhai. So apparently from a sample size of 3 people, Raju is a very common name in Gujarat. (But it actually is)

4 of us jumped into the car at 12:30 am. We didn’t want to wait out the night at Rajkot. We wanted to reach Gir National Park in time for the 6:00 am safari. We thus took off hoping to see a lion in Gir. It would’ve been the perfect way to cap off our trip.

***

Our jeep broke down. We were stranded in the middle of the jungle. Our driver climbed up a tree hoping to catch sight of another jeep or to get range on his mobile. Our guide was with us standing on the ground, outside the jeep. He turned his head as if to suggest he’d heard something. There were paw marks on the ground. He instructed us to be silent and get back in the jeep, but we wouldn't listen. The driver came scampering back down the tree and towards us. He was pointing behind us and yelling. Then, Neil saw it too....

***

Tripping in Gujarat : Part Two

The chagda was wobbling in the gale. Every external orifice on our bodies was being pierced by grains of sand. Before we knew it, we were inside the storm. With our eyes closed, we began to remember our loved ones.

Only Rehman bhai and Neil protected by the windshield could see where we were headed. Of course Rehman bhai would know the route by rote considering the number of innocents he’s driven to a sepulchral life of violence, we thought. We were riding through the storm when suddenly Jenson makes an untimely yet valid observation, “Yaar, we’ll have to go back and take a bath.” Ya think! 

As we crossed the storm and opened our eyes, nervous laughter was replaced by shouts of ‘woah’! Across a barrier that only prevents vehicles from entering and two tents for the ‘jawaans’ was kilometers of empty vastness. Rehman bhai stopped the ‘chagda’ and the four of us went walking towards nothing. We walked until the tents were barely visible and the brown and white mixture of sand and salt became completely white. 

Black soil was visible where presumably the army jeeps had left tyre marks. Apart from a few blemishes, the desert is white. We were at the Rann at around 12:30 pm. Salt glistens under the sunlight. They say it looks spectacular under the moonlight. However, Locals informed us it looks special only under the full moon and that tourists aren’t allowed beyond the check post after 8:30 pm.   

There’s something calming about a desert when you know you can leave anytime. Standing in the middle of nowhere has a strange appeal when ‘somewhere’ is close by. We were there. The white sand beneath our feet, a strong wind blowing, the gentle Sun and a horizon that went on forever were for those 20 minutes, comforting. But then we got kinda bored.

We ran around, threw salt, put some in our pockets and made our way back to the ‘chagda’ to thank Rehman bhai for bringing us here. For everything that was going on in our heads, Rehman bhai turned out to be a pretty good guide. Neil and his friends….pfft.

We did go back onto the road and straight ahead to where the road ends. It’s the point where tourists stop. Camel rides and ‘mojris’ can be bought there. 

Jenson picked up something he liked while Neil and I climbed up a camel. 

It’s a bumpy ride, especially when the camel stands up and sits back down. 50 bucks per person is the charge to sit on a hump.

Oh! There was also some sort of shooting happening. The line I caught the anchor saying was, ‘an oasis of fashion in the desert.’ I’m guessing it was for a show on fashion. Now I don’t want to objectify or invade anyone’s privacy but look how HOT! 

It was at that moment my heart tweeted #Nowplaying Sting – Desert Rose ee yea ee yeaaaa. Neither of us could muster up the camel-sized balls to talk to her but with her image in our heads we skipped upon ‘cloud 9’ and straight into the ‘chagda.’ We drove back to Bhirandiyara with a calm sense of friendliness for Rehman bhai. Again…Neil and his friends…pfft. The signs of extortion and a family with small businesses told us only one thing i.e he was a ‘pakka’ Gujarati. (I mean that in the best possible way.)

Soon we were on the path to Kala Dungar – the highest point in Kutch, from where you can see the Rann, the Rann of Kutch Lake and not the Indo-Pak border. 

We passed by Khevada village and the ‘Probable Magnetic Field Zone’ again. But this time we didn’t stop to check if the chagda would move on its own. By now we had realized, Neil and…..pfft.

While atop, we met the Indian Army regiment from Himachal Pradesh who were there on a vacation. They were there to witness the amazing view from the top. 

It was definitely worth the trip. If Heaven and Earth ever decided to throw a party, it would be the perfect venue. The Rann of Kutch was reflecting the setting sun. A camera can never do justice to such a view but we tried, quite a few times.

We also found some time to play with a few puppies. Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant the young ones of a dog. 

It was then time for our drive back to Bhuj. By the time we reached Khevada, lunch time was over. Try telling that to our stomachs, we said. Thankfully, there was a restaurant open which served us hot chapatis with ghee, dal, one veg dish and chaas. YUM. At that point though, nearly anything would’ve been YUM.

We reached Bhuj in time for dinner, a bath and a good night’s sleep. Our dinner was non-veg food, by the way. Yes, it’s available in Bhuj. There are a few hotels near the Bhuj Smashan.   

That was our Day 2 in Gujarat, which ended with us planning to wake up by 7 am the next day. We all agreed but so did our thoughts which sounded like this - ‘Poda patti. You get up and then wake me up by 9.’ Surely enough we woke up by 8 the next morning. We were out of the house and into Rehman bhai’s chagda by 10 am. He took us to Hospital Road.

Our plan was to head to Mandvi on a bike. Apparently giving bikes out on rent is not allowed in Bhuj. So I shouldn’t be telling you this but there is a ‘friend’ who rents mopeds and bikes at Rs 500 for 24 hours on Hospital Road.  

We hired it. Rehman bhai was a great guide and everything but riding a bike along NH08A is something that we simply had to do. 

Thank you, Rehman bhai

The highway that leads from Bhuj to Mandvi is as smooth as a baby's skin. Of course, like when the baby grows up, there were a few tough to negotiate areas on the road as well, due to construction. Other than that, the wind in your hair makes you realize what Bryan Adams was singing. Life IS an open road.

Mandvi is about 60 kms away from Bhuj. Naturally, we stopped on the way to grab ourselves some ‘fafdas’ and ‘gatiyas’ with a side helping of ‘jalebis.’ It was after this heavy brunch that my bike started giving us trouble. I wouldn’t want to blame Jenson’s obesity for it but there was a considerable amount of energy pulling the bike backwards. However, I must admit his paunch did provide a comfortable backrest.

There wasn’t much to see in Mandvi. It has a nice beach on which windmills had been erected.

There were a few camels being taken around and a few just simply sitting. We tried to take close-ups of one of the lazy ones. Turns out, he wasn’t that lazy. As soon as he began to stand up, the 4 of us ran as fast as only a guy about to be chased by a camel could. Thankfully, it didn’t chase us.   

The port was quite fascinating as you could see where the ships were being built. Some of them were gigantic.

We left and made our way to Vijay Vilas Palace which is around 15 kms outside Mandvi. On the road there is a left turn with a signboard that reads ‘airway.’ That’s the road that leads to Vijay Vilas. On the left of the road, there actually is a small runway of sorts. Again, the road itself seemed like a runway.

Once we reached the palace, we learnt that the ticket costs Rs 30 and an additional Rs 25 for taking a camera phone inside. For a proper camera, Rs 50 has to be paid on top of the ticket price. The palace had better be worth it, we thought. It was. See for yourself.

We spent quite a lot of time on the palace grounds, chasing a peacock. Every time we got close, it ran away. Apparently there are at least a dozen of them on the grounds. 

By the time we decided to give up it was almost sundown.  

Our ride began calmly enough. We had just managed to cross Mandvi before it was completely dark. That’s when we realized the brake lights of my bike weren’t working. Common sense dictated Neil and Nelson be at the back while Jenson and I lead the way. In the cold of the night, it became tough to see. Without helmets, (because no one there wears helmets) our eyes had to brave the wind and our uncovered hands faced the chill.

We were riding along when suddenly a pothole appeared out of nowhere. A vehicle was approaching from the opposite side and with no divider on the road I had to ride into the pothole. As the front wheel thudded into it our headlights went out. We still had a good 50 kms to go but now, both the back brake lights and our headlights weren’t working. None of us were mechanics nor did we know a lot about bikes. We were running out of options when suddenly…  

Tripping in Gujarat : Part One

It wasn't a path tourists took. In fact, it wasn’t a path at all because it seemed to be covered by a wall of sand. Within us we believed it to be every challenge we ran away from. This time, together, we wouldn’t turn around. The sand storm was approaching. But all it did was cloud our vision of the horizon. After leaving behind the path in which our footprints were etched repetitively, ‘dirt’ wasn’t going to stand in our way; nor was our poorly chosen mode of transport, the Gujarati ‘chagda’ – a 5/6 seater rickshaw depending on adjustability of the passengers and the driver. With resolute defiance, we entered the chaos. We knew there wasn’t a threat potent enough to keep us from our destination. The only problem was, none of us knew where we were headed.

****

Neil, an MBA in HR had just completed his notice period. He had one week of freedom before he had to begin to satiate the constant need for money.

Jenson, a BSC (IT) graduate was in need of a much deserved break, like we all are every waking moment of our lives.

James, I, a BA in ‘chal, let’s do something fun na’ and a writer, had been craving for another trip to ratify my life’s purpose as being ‘to travel.’

Nelson, a Designer was tired of working for someone else. The framing of his frustrated monologue was rather crude and had references to toilet paper and the final act in the process of defecation.

All 4 had one plan – travel to Gujarat. They say lives intertwine through time and that destiny plans for ‘coincidental meets.’ In this case our lives intertwined quite a while before this meet happened. We were already friends and ‘destiny’ was the cellular service provided by various companies and Facebook.

We began our journey on Feb 21^st aboard the 11:55 pm Bhuj AC Super Fast Express which travels from Bandra Terminus, Mumbai to Bhuj, Gujarat (cost Rs 1020). The train’s destiny was to reach Bhuj the next afternoon at 1:15, provided the Indian Railways didn’t have other plans.

We reached Bhuj on time only alighting the train once before at Gandhidham for a bit of sweet poha, tea and samosa. An acquaintance Mr Raju bhai met us at Bhuj station and extended a welcoming hand. He led the way out and that was when we met him..the man who would eventually drive us into a sand storm. His name was Rehman bhai.

He was wearing an untucked white shirt and pant along with a Pathani ‘rumaal’ around his neck. He had a long beard, ‘mava’ stained teeth and a look in his eyes that said, ‘Come. Sit. I’ll drive you into a sand storm.’ Oh yes. At the moment he looked like the stereotypical anti-social element, which was the problem. Our educated brains overcompensated and convinced us he was definitely not a gun-toting killer.

Backpacks lugged into the back of his autorickshaw or ‘chagda’ as it’s called, three of us sat behind comfortably while Raju bhai and Nelson cramped up on either side of Rehman bhai. It was only about 12 kilometres to Madhapar, the place we were to stay at. In those 12 minutes, the words ‘traffic rules’ lost all meaning. Bhuj, in fact most of Gujarat has no signals. There are posts which flash the colour orange from time to time. Remember the rule ‘look left and right before you cross’? In Gujarat, ‘look left and right and you won’t want to cross.’  

****

After treacherous swerves and several bouts of paranoia, we made it. Somewhere next to Hill View Nagar, Madhapar was Mar Thoma Syrian Church’s Mission Centre which was to be our free abode in Bhuj. We paid Rehman bhai 130 Rupees. That should have been our first clue – extortion.

As we unloaded our luggage, he began asking us questions about our trip. Naively, we answered. He offered to take us to the Rann of Kutchch and bring us back for Rs 1200. We took his number and said we’d give him a call. His offer did seem reasonable…at the time.

Raju bhai left us too saying he had an errand to run. We had some cleaning up to do. One by one we stunk up the bathroom and sprayed deodorant in the hall and on our selves. We were ready in all our coolness and splendour. Quite obviously it called for our first photo. 

Soon after, Raju bhai returned with another ‘chagda.’ He took us in search of food.

Note: If you want lunch, be sure to eat before 4:00pm which is when restaurants shut in Bhuj.     

Raju bhai left us and the rickshaw wala took us to Vaniayavar Chowk. We paid him and sat down to eat at Shankar Lodge which is at the Purani Sabzi Mandi. We had our first Gujarati Thali for Rs 70 here.

It wasn’t the best thali but it was what we found at that time. We asked the hotel owner how to get to Rann. He mentioned ‘hired car’ which would cost around Rs 5,000, to and back. Public transport to Rann is non-existent. Of course, there was the cheaper option of Rehman bhai. Guess which option we chose.

By around 4:15 pm on Feb 22^nd we were on the way to the Rann of Kutch from Bhuj. The drive was absolutely fantastic, even in a rickshaw. The roads were smooth, except for some parts where construction is underway. The scenery of barren land, hills and a few ‘dhabas’ here and there made 2 hours pass by quite serenely. The old Bollywood songs blaring on Rehman bhai’s phone made us feel we were in a movie. Our script certainly was entertaining.

Rehman bhai stopped in between for tea at his nephew’s dhaba. This should have been our second clue – a family having small businesses as a front.

The tea served was mixed with buffalo milk. It takes some getting used to if you’ve been drinking your tea with cow’s milk. I didn’t get used to it.      

At Birandiyara, there was a check post at which the permission to enter the Rann of Kutch needed to be acquired. It’s available from 9:30 am to 5:30 pm, after which the army officer leaves. The permit costs Rs 100 per person + Rs 25 for 2 wheelers and Rs 50 for 4 wheelers. Unfortunately we reached at 6:30 pm. We would have to come again the next morning.

At this post, the road that goes left leads to the Rann. The road straight ahead leads to Kala Dungar.  

We made our way to Kala Dungar, since Rann wasn’t an option. It took us about an hour and half to reach the top in the autorickshaw. It should be only a 45 minute drive in a proper car. En route though, there is a spot that is termed a probable magnetic field zone. We had no idea what that meant, but Neil’s friends had informed him that a car moves forward automatically on that spot. An autorickshaw certainly doesn’t. We checked. Neil and his friends…pfft.

The light had faded. It was night. There was nothing to be seen from atop Kala Dungar. But Rehman bhai insisted it was a great sight from the top. He kept mentioning one could see the lights in Pakistan. We went up and could see just a flicker of orange. We didn’t know if it was Pakistan or just another traffic signal in Gujarat. We did meet a few soldiers from the Indian Army. We had a friendly chat with them for a while but they couldn’t invite us to eat with them for 2 reasons 1) Army rules 2) Lack of supplies.

However there is a temple atop Kala Dungar and a trust. They provide accommodation and food. The food though, is provided only till 8:30 pm. We were late there too. We decided to drive back down and come back to Birandiyara. There are rooms available right next to the check post. Run by Mr. Hira bhai, he plans to make a huge resort. It has the rustic rural feel to it and the ground is made of ‘gobar’ (dried cow dung). Far from stepping on shit, the place was beautiful. The rooms and the bathrooms were clean. He charged Rs 3,000 for one room for the 4 of us which included dinner and breakfast. The driver was given a cot.

The food was worth every penny. He served us ghee chapattis, aloo sabji (potatoes), baingan (aubergine) barta, khichdi, pickle, chaas (buttermilk) and gud (jaggery); the perfect recipe for a good night’s sleep.

Next morning with poha in our stomachs, tea in our systems and the permit in our hands we made our way to Rann. Neil’s friends had told him that there were guides who would take people across the border to Pakistan as part of camel rides and not bring them back. Neil and his friends…pfft. Little did we know we were inching closer to chaos. 

We reached the ‘Great White Desert’ border security check post. Our permit was solid. We were allowed to pass. We were looking at the road straight ahead, when suddenly Rehman bhai turned left off the road. He was speeding across the sand as fast as his chagda would let him. Is this what Neil’s friends were talking about? Suddenly, Neil’s friends' comments weren’t a joke but a cautionary tale.  

...contd