AN ancient outpost in India’s Rajasthan, the golden fort of Jaisalmer is the perfect place from which to set out on an exploration of the Thar desert. While on a camel trek from Jaisalmer I was lucky enough to catch the end of the annual Desert Festival.
Rajasthan Desert Festival. Pic: Natasha von Geldern
Thousands of people had gathered from the surrounding villages to watch the star event – the camel racing. The spectators lined the highest dunes; they were mainly men with a few women clad in the bright fabrics of Rajasthan.
As with many things in India, organising the start of the first race took some time and much too-ing and fro-ing. But the spectators were patient, enjoying the anticipation and social atmosphere.
There were camels everywhere, placidly sitting and chewing, or moaning vociferously, waiting for their turn; their humorously expressive faces bedecked with colourful bridles and decorations.
The roar of a patrolling Mirage fighter jet passing overhead was a reminder that the Thar Desert forms a border with neighbouring Pakistan. This more-than-200,000-square-kilometres of aridity extends from Rajasthan into Punjab, Haryana and Gujarat.
Rajasthan Desert Festival. Pic: Natasha von Geldern.
The Rajasthan Desert Festival takes place during the Indian winter but it has been a hot day and I can only try to imagine the intense heat of the summer months.
In the harsh conditions the desert is surprisingly populous but desperately poor. Riding through villages that day I regularly saw people engaged in the labour-intensive and neverending job of fetching water.
There were three heats and then a championship race for nine camels. The riders cut a very dashing scene with their white robes and red or orange turbans streaming out on the breeze.
Eventually they were off! Racing from the distant dunes across rough terrain where the camels got up an impressive pace on harder ground, and then a soft sandy finish that slowed everyone up a little.
Rajasthan Desert Festival. Pic: Natasha von Geldern.
The cheering was immense and then there was music and dancing on the dunes: chanting and primal drums with answering cheers from the crowd.
Snake charmers and musicians did their best to capture the attention of the excited festival-goers with ballads of valour and romance.
After nightfall a fireworks display failed to compete with the brilliant stars and rising moon. It was the grand finale of the Desert Festival and a big yellow full moon began its slow arch across the sky.
Finally peace descended on the desert; all I could hear was the cry of a wandering peacock, the melodious sound of sheep bells, and the snoring of our flatulent beasts.
Natasha von Geldern is the Wandering Kiwi, a freelance travel writer whose obsession is discovering and covering the world: making the pages of the atlas real, one trip at a time.
