I’m sitting inside my room situated over the fort rampart and I can see a live cannon to the right from my window. Below the fort, I see a patchwork of sandstone slabs and mud-roofed houses spread in front of me, beyond which an endless expanse of a flat, parched land specked with nominal green shrubbery extends till the eye can see. From my bathroom window, I’ve got a surprising view. The windows opens to the view of curved bulges of the fort on my left, the ochre houses that coalesce into the barren desert earth on the right, a road that snakes between these two and a gorgeous, red ball of fire rising in the centre. I had a front row seat to the sunrise from my loo! There’s a sort of winter haze I can see in the distance, a small glimpse of the season that’s few weeks away. The night however, is balmy with a tinge of that winter chill. The lights of the town below are faint and not blinding. I can see few stars shining in the sky, while the fort walls glow in a golden hue. I’m now sitting on the stone block that supports the cannon, pouring my heart out to a friend over phone late into the night while the world’s largest living fort sleeps after a day of frenzied activity.

I am in Jaisalmer, in a rather touristy part of the town, and I’m struck by how much I’m charmed by this setting. Apparently, even the most touristy parts of Rajasthan still retain the ability to surprise you. Even after several visits, several thousands of articles and promotions seen in the media, and several decades of being the cynosure of travellers from around the world, that Rajasthan can still manage to draw me in is a testament to how endowed the state is when it comes to offering something new to the traveller every single time.

On the very same trip, I find myself in a deserted strip of pristine, untrampled dunes near the outer fringes of Desert National Park. The narrow band of endless curves and pointed sand peaks spread undisturbed in between two parallel running wire fences evokes a strong sense of deja vu. I finish my shoot and ask the guide the name of the place. The word he says next confirms my hunch. I had been here before. Eight years ago in fact. I had first stumbled upon these sand dunes on a unique weeklong hike with YHAI across the Thar Desert in 2010.

After crossing the monstrosity that is Sam sand dunes, I was delighted to have arrived at this place where desert magic was alive and unmarred by unchecked commercialisation. Apart from my friend and me, there was no one else on the dunes. We walked carefully, anxious that we’d disturb those untouched patterns on the sand. But we eventually killed our hesitation and trampled on those untouched dunes with much glee, adding human footprints to the already existing collection of deer, birds, insects and other inhabitants of the desert. Two days ago, exactly eight years since my first rendezvous with these gorgeous dunes, I was back in the same place. And in those eight years, only a handful of tourists have made their way to this secret corner, which holds a special place in my heart. Frankly, I had locked this place up in my mind and never divulged it out on the interwebs for the fear that my excitement to share it with others would possibly ruin it for good. So I jealously guarded the secret till date. But Rajasthan surprises me once again by managing to keep our secret safe for so long, despite being overrun by mass commercialisation, mindless tourists and overenthusiastic tour operators.

In fact, my first trip to Rajasthan eight years ago had been quite a revelation. The only reason I even considered travelling in touristy Rajasthan was because when I signed up for the YHAI desert trek, I knew I had to spend few extra days there to explore some more. But I avoided exploring the usual Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaipur and Jaisalmer circuit, since I have a certain disdain for ostentatious displays of wealth and feudal power and I rarely find glorious palaces and royal residences of much interest. But I would recommend considering a guided Rajasthan Tour Package if heritage palaces & wildlife sanctuaries interest you. And I love finding stories of common people and their lives. By spending days on the unusual trek and some more days in the fascinating Shekhawati region, I found a side of Rajasthan that I hadn’t considered before - one that was hidden, engaging and novel.

Even in Shekhawati, already made popular by some guidebook as the world’s largest open air fresco gallery, I skipped the famous towns of Nawalgarh and Mandawa and spent days wandering through obscure villages with gigantic, broken, crumbling, abandoned and colorful mansions. I couldn’t believe it that in Rajasthan, a state overrun by tourists, I didn’t encounter any during my wanderings in remote Shekhawati.

Before arriving up north for the trek and to see the havelis, I had quite an interesting encounter in the southern part of Rajasthan, where I had spent my days wandering around the countryside, basing us in Udaipur. One evening while returning from Kumbhalgarh Fort, I saw a leopard cross our path in the night near a village where men were casually walking on the road ahead of us. Two things surprised me about that encounter. One, that southern Rajasthan was forested and big predators such as leopards lived here. Two, that leopards live and move so closely among humans. Over the next few years I learnt much more on how leopards have always lived in the fringes of our communities and contrary to what I had imagined, they wouldn’t attack humans until cornered. But that stray incident in Rajasthan was the catalyst to reading up more and recognizing the misunderstood animal’s plight across the country. I truly didn’t expect Rajasthan of all places to teach me a lesson on wildlife.

Few years later I found myself gaping in awe at a narrow band of dark condensation in the cloudy sky, it was raining in the desert! On that trip, I also made my way to an oasis nearby where the greenery and a rippling water body felt so uncharacteristic that it would’ve been easier to believe it was a made up movie set than a real life scene. I spent two monsoons in Rajasthan since and I must say seeing it rain in the desert is right up there in the list of my most cherished monsoon chases across the country. Who would’ve thought monsoons actually make their presence felt in the Thar Desert of all places!

On that very same trip, I also was privy to a rare sighting of an endangered species that almost became the national bird of our country but lost that coveted title out to peacock due to semantics. Story goes that Great Indian Bustard, an impressive and one of the heaviest flying birds on our planet, found only in Indian subcontinent was also in the running for the title of India’s national bird but was rejected on grounds that its name could easily be bastardised to Great Indian “Bastard” whether in jest or all seriousness. However, that loss became the last nail in the coffin for the already declining Bustard population in India. Once spread all over India abundantly, by 1970s only 1300 remained due to extensive habitat loss and hunting, which further plummeted to a devastating 150-odd extant population from where there is little hope of species propagation. Desert National Park in the outskirts of Jaisalmer is the last remaining primary habitat for breeding of Bustards. There, I stumbled upon a majestic Great Indian Bustard flying in the distance, by pure happenstance. Once again, I was left to pick up my jaw from the ground in Rajasthan.

Read: The Great Indian Bustard’s last sigh [Livemint]

Finally, after all these incidents, I was sure Rajasthan couldn’t surprise me anymore. Then Rajasthan Tourism released a campaign that featured a stunning Chambal river with a horseshoe bend, bound by a forested cliff full of waterfalls and my jaw drops to the floor once again.

A huge bird flew in front of us across the barren desert landscape. The wingspan was at least 2 meters and the height was a meter or so. It took us a while but our gracious host had soon identified the bird for us and it was a spectacular sighting, one that was very rare! It was the critically endangered Great Indian Bustard that we had just seen; only 200 of them remain today. We drove closer to the edge from where the bird had just taken off, we spotted it gracefully gliding across the desert plains, where it allowed privileged few a peek into its world.

For me, authentic travel experiences like these come before anything else. I care little for where I stay as long as I am getting to see something new and exploring like a local. So, while Suryagarh’s invitation to experience Desert Monsoon sounded very appealing, I was a bit worried about the luxury part of it. I would never associate luxury with authentic local experiences. Is it even possible to be immersed in luxury but still explore a destination like a local?

And that’s where Suryagarh scores big and rises above than being just another luxurious stay. Situated in the outskirts of the Golden City, Jaisalmer, Suryagarh looks like a structure straight out of the bygone era. It’s sandstone walls, the bastions and the regal elegance might fool you into thinking that this could be a renovated structure. But the truth is it’s a newly constructed property using yellow sandstone and designed so that it effortlessly blends into the desert landscape, just like Sonar Qila(The Golden Fort).

The folks at Suryagarh will leave no stone unturned in making you feel like royalty – from escorting in a jeep with two tall traditionally dressed men holding up fluttering orange flags to raining down rose petals as we entered the property. The rooms were super comfortable and grand but the highlight again was the many different ways in which the local traditions and styles were incorporated in the interiors of the rooms and the property as such.

I personally loved the vast and open courtyard that would reflect the shiny lights when it rained. And it did rain while we were there. There are a lot of accessible open spaces within the property and around it so it never felt I was confined. The day we arrived we were taken on a drive in the desert for a sundowner, the sun was down already but the thunders and lightning matched the high-spirited melodies of a Manganiar singer while we enjoyed wine and cheese!

Dinners can be quite the experience at Suryagarh, one night we dined under the starry skies on a hilltop and the next amidst pristine dunes with no one else around. The little attention to detail goes a long way in providing truly unique experiences for the guests, for instance as we arrived at the dunes, the local folk singers’ melodious and timely rendition of “Padharo Maro Des” [Meaning welcome to our land] lent a magical touch to the evening.

The very young MD of Suryagarh, Manavendra Singh Shekhawat, has explored the deserts around Jaisalmer and has found brilliant little spots with no name. At the end of a crazy but super-fun desert offroading, it was such a pleasure and a surprise to arrive at an oasis. It was him who took us on a ride in the barren hinterlands where we spotted the Great Indian Bustard.

Along with the MD, the entire team at Suryagarh is focused upon offering authentic experiences, like the haunted trail fondly known as “Chudail trail” where we went exploring the haunted places in the dead of the night. Or visiting the abandoned villages of Khaba and Kuldhara where legend has it that 84 such villages were abandoned overnight and were cursed that they never be inhabited again. No one lives there today. In another place, we were shown several tombstones with stone structures and inscriptions in Devanagari script; it could be the burial ground of the Paliwal community villages but there was no way to tell, another visit with a historian might clear that up.

But like I said earlier, it wasn’t just the luxury that made the experience special, instead it was the pride everyone took in upholding the culture and tradition of their land. The local stories and legends were valued, passed on and displayed with much gusto. Suryagarh very well understands that a traveler is interested in discovering the secrets of a place and not just luxury, by combining these two they have the perfect offering for the discerning traveler.

Note - I traveled to Jaisalmer as a guest of Suryagarh. 

I first visited Rajasthan in 2010, I was there to trek through the Thar desert. It was a spectacular trek and I thought that was as offbeat as one could get in this overdone tourist destination. However, during the trek, a local camel herdsman let me in on a little secret, that the dry barren desert landscape transforms into a green haven every year just for few days during the monsoons! Being the monsoon chaser that I am, I never forgot those words, which is why I jumped at the chance when Suryagarh, a luxury boutique hotel in Jaisalmer, invited me to experience Monsoon Magic with them in the desert. I've got drenched to the core in the rains before, dealt with landslides, almost shivered to death on a mountain top and donated liters of blood to leeches in pursuit of chasing monsoons but this desert experience stands out as one of the best monsoons till date. After all, who would expect a barren desert to have anything to do with the rains or greenery? Before you go through the images below, I highly recommend you see pictures from my previous visit - here and here to see how different the same landscape looks in a different season. 

***

It was a strange place to be. The breeze was too cold to make me want to stay in the shade, and the sun was too hot to make me want to step out from under the canopy of the huge khejri tree that I was leaning against. I was in the Thar Desert, on the first day of a five-day trek that had started that morning in a village called Khaba, near Jaisalmer, and would end 40 km away at Bharna. 

Every day had brought a range of discoveries: stark landscapes, pristine dunes, rosy sunsets, starry nights, and the realisation that an amazing variety of life could flourish in an unforgiving environment. Each new morning had also brought intriguing stories. On the very first day, our group of three found ourselves in Kuldhara, an abandoned village 17 km from Jaisalmer. No one has been able to explain why its inhabitants fled, but it has been suggested that the Paliwal Brahmins who lived there migrated elsewhere in the 19th century either to escape the atrocities of the ruler or because their water sources ran dry. They left behind crumbling walls, a temple, and a curse that the village would never be inhabited again. Seen through the arches of the derelict Khaba Fort, the ruins of the village were bathed eerily in the colours of sunset while the plains beyond were carpeted with green fields. 

Khaba seems to blend effortlessly into the barren landscape. It seldom sees tourists. We set up camp in the village school for the night. Village girls came to the well to fill up water while the smaller children played in the sand. Their smiles were genuine and their eyes curious. They had questions about life in the city. Why did I wear my hair loose instead of having a dupatta wrapped around my head? Would I choose my own husband? How was I allowed to travel so far without a man to accompany me? I took photographs that I promised to send them soon. 

Our route had been designed to seek out maximum shade under the region’s sparse foliage. Even though the mercury rose mercilessly, the winter winds made the sun more bearable. On the very first day of the trek, resting under one of the trees mid-afternoon, we saw women in the far distance walking with vessels to collect water. Later, at the campsite, porters brought us barrels of water. Though it was murky, we added purification tablets to the liquid and gulped it down. It was a hard lesson in how judiciously we needed to use water in the desert. 

Though the days were hot, the nights would get bitterly cold. We would spend the evenings huddled in our shelters. One night, while camping in a hut in the Desert National Park at Sudasari, three of us came out to make a wish upon shooting stars. The hut was situated just on the fringes of the National Park and on one side, the endless grasslands extended all the way to the horizon. It was a moonless night and the sky was so clear that I probably saw more stars in that one evening than I’d seen in the city all of the previous year. 

The Desert National Park in Sudasari is one of the country’s biggest nature reserves and supports a variety of species ranging from the endangered Great Indian Bustard to the abundant chinkara. We saw little gazelles everywhere we went.

Having done most of my previous treks in the Himalayas and Western Ghats, the desert landscape was unfamiliar to me. In the mountains, something always blocked the view. But here, the landscapes stretched on unimpeded. Watching the sunrise and sunset became a ritual for me. I made it a point to wake up every morning to see the red ball of fire come up over the horizon and settled down every evening to watch the scorching sun rest for the day. Though the desert appeared barren, it wasn’t lifeless—the chirping birds, the swaying leaves, and the footprints of sneaky animals made that clear. 

One of the beautiful sunsets during the trek

On the last day of the trek, we trudged up several sand dunes, but none were as perfectly shaped as the ones I had in my mind. Then, just an hour before sunset, when we were completely worn out, we were confronted with another dune. Everyone else walked to the right of the sand bar but I decided to head left. This, it turned out, was the pristine dune I had in mind all through the trip—it had dramatic, wind-sculpted patterns, unspoilt by footsteps. The setting sun cast an ochre light as well as dark shadows on the sand. I walked carefully to avoid trampling the beautiful patterns. There was no one else around.

At last, pristine sand dunes. If you have been to Rajasthan, you'd know how difficult it is to find one untrampled.

In my tent that night, my dreams were filled with chinkaras running towards the distant horizon. I dreamt of wishing upon shooting stars and riding a camel. I also dreamt of spectacular sunsets and solitary trees. When I woke up, I realised I had actually lived that precious dream. 

I spent two weeks in Rajasthan. As expected it was very commercialized and crowded but I managed to find some quiet and quaint corners for myself. I trekked through the Thar desert, spent few days deconstructing the paintings of Shekhawati Havelis and had dinner with royalty to name a few. Here's what I saw. :)

Start of the five day trek through the Thar Desert. Our guide on his camel.

A Lady offering prayers in the beautiful Jain Temple of Ranakpur

Frescoes of many a kind adorning the domes of tombs in Shekhawati.

This is where we stayed in Desert National Park, Sudasari

Beautiful pristine sand dunes of neither Sam nor Khuri

A glorious painted Haveli of Shekhawati, now in ruins and neglect

A French artist bought a haveli and restored the frescoes to bring to its former glory, Fatehpur

Businessman around Jodhpur

Beautifully lit Jal Mahal of Jaipur

Pesky kids running after us for money, after a while they just smiled and left.

Gadisar Lake, Jaisalmer

Mustard fields in South Rajasthan

A beautiful sunrise and a solitary tree