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Walking through the winding streets one encounters Aaina Mahal, the palace of the erstwhile Maharaja of Kutchh, now converted into a museum. The British architect Mclealand, true to their colonial style, designed this monument with a major Roman influence. Marble is the chief material for interior works while the Mahal is built with the locally available sandstone. Different colors of the sandstone have been used to create arch bands and patterns on the palace towers. Covered passages encircle the mahal. Caryatids support arches all along these passages. Detailed gold inlay work adorns the ceilings and the columns. About 125 circular steps lead to the roof, which gives a full view of the city. The covered portico in the centre is where the king once surveyed his kingdom. A tall clock tower, heard within a 10-mile radius, merrily announces the arrival of a new hour.

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As one leaves the city of Kutchh into further interiors, visions of vast expanses of sand replete with thorny bushes arise on either side of the road. Deep into these lay various tiny settlements of the Kutchhi tribes. A guide was needed here since navigating in these parts is not only confusing but difficult also. As we zeroed in on our destination, an altogether different sight greets us. As the fierce sun grows red, groups of bhoongas emerge. These bhoongas are circular huts of mud and the wall being upto 12” thick. These walls are instrumental in keeping out the extreme daytime heat and the harsh cold of the night. Rich white choonaa and mirror-work adorn these lovely bhoongas from outside as well as inside. Since most activities occur at sitting level, the windows are also placed at squatting level giving view and ventilation. 

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Rabari women dress in black wool with large pieces of silver jewellery. They all have extensive tattooing on their necks, arms and legs. The patterns are done in black and consist of animals, plants, crosses (to ward off the evil eye) and other geometric shapes. The men, except for children, wear only white with some colors on their shawls. Rabari boys and men are usually seen wearing earrings called toliya that are cone-shaped and look quite heavy. 

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Nearby, the Kaladoongar or the black hill raises its head majestically. It overlooks the spectacular Rann, close to the Pakistan border. On this is situated the Dattatraya temple. Absorbing this huge vista of riveting desert-scape, thinking I had seen it all, I heard an echo of ‘laung, laung…,’ which pierced through the howling wind. A sadhu was standing on the edge of the mountain beating a thali shouting into the valley over and over again, ‘laung, laung.’ He continued for five minutes, placed something on the rocks and then walked back to the small temple of Lord Dattatraya, the only other structure on the peak besides the Border Security Force (BSF) shacks.  

Intrigued, I was about to question the sadhu when he pointed towards the rocks. A fox appeared sniffing the mountain air and was soon followed by four others to partake their mid-day meal of sweet rice and lapsi (a kind of sheera). For years, the head priest of the temple has been feeding these creatures who answer his call of ‘laung, laung’ with unfailing regularity like pet dogs. The sadhu informed that the evening congregations swell to nearly 20-25. The strange encounter with foxes, which are an integral part of the mystic beauty of the mountain and desert, was like stepping into a Ruskin Bond world of magical realism. 

From here, one can get a glimpse of the 2 km long India Bridge, which leads to an almost no-man’s land. Civilization stops short of India Bridge. Twenty kilometers away and harsh terrain beyond with temperatures touching 50 degree Celsius in summer and just above zero in winter, this area is populated only by the BSF and the Army. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, can prepare anyone for the scene, which unfolds here. The stark yet beautiful landscape is mesmerizing. A rich experience indeed.

(Saloni Nagpal is an architect and currently in the last leg of PG studies at NID, Ahmedabad. Which is what brings her to the financial capital, but only shortly. She longs to escape to the ruins and remnants of civilisation as soon as she can rid herself of "worldly affairs". Meanwhile, she writes about her many such previous escapades.)

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