As we walk down the road to the station at 4.30 in the morning there are a shocking number of people laid asleep across the pavements and many more lie outside the station, on the concourse, the platforms and even on the footbridges. It’s difficult to tell whether all the people at the station have no where else to go or they are here to catch a train. The truth is probably a mix of the two, but either way it’s a disturbing sight. Our train is delayed until 6am and we settle down to wait on the platform whilst the station gradually awakes around us. There are two or three rats scurrying hither and thither darting backward and forward through a hole in the platform only a few feet from where we are sitting. Surprisingly, given the open drains and mounds of rubbish in the streets, these are the first rats we have seen since arriving in India. And if that isn’t bad enough a ma thinks nothing of squatting on the platform edge and pissing on the tracks. Urinating in the streets (both men and women do it) is a way of life here so I don’t know why we should be surprised when we see it happening in the station. This is India after all!
The destination indicators are displaying yesterday evening’s departures so we have to rely on a stall holder to give us the platform number. The usually helpful displays that hang at intervals along the length of the platform giving details of the carriage numbers, aren’t displaying information either. Of course, this being India, the carriages aren’t in any particula order, so we end up walking up and down the very long platform with our heavy luggage, negotiating the crowds of people until we manage to locate our carriage.
We are in a sleeper coach for the journey so for the first couple of hours we catch up on some lost sleep. It’s a long and slow journey and we seem to spend ages sitting in stations for no apparent reason. By the time we get to Jaisalmer the train is one-and-an-half hours late and it’s taken a total of 6-and-an-half hours to travel 244 kms! We are rescued from a throng of rather aggressive touts and rickshaw drivers that accosts us the moment we step out of the station by our hotel pick-up. Our luggage is tossed on the roof of a jeep along with that of six Spaniards who have been recruited by the hotel’s driver and we all squeeze into the limited seat space.
Jaisalmer ‘Jewel of the Thar’ sits on the edge of the Great Thar Desert, just 100 km from the Pakistan border. The great desert citadel known as Sonar Qila with its 99 bastions stands guard of the surrounding town rising like a giant golden sandcastle out of the sloping skirt of Trikuta Hill; the only living fort in Rajasthan. A small town, Jaisalmer is built almost entirely of mellow yellow sandstone; a jumble of mostly one and two and occasionally three, storey buildings surrounded by arid desert stretching as far as the eye can see. We are staying at the Shahi Palace just under the fort walls. It’s a newish hotel built in a traditional style with carved sandstone embellishment, oriel windows and a lovely rooftop restaurant with a mix of cushioned and conventional seating and fabulous views of the fort to one side and the desert to the other.
Jaisalmer is a laid-back place with very little traffic, quiet and relatively clean. It has a good vibe (or karma as they say here) and already I feel I’m going to enjoy our stay. After lunch in the restaurant we take a rickshaw to Ghandhi Chowk for a bit of retail therapy in the bazaars that line the narrow laneways off this square, returning with some baggy pants and a couple of silk kirtahs.