India was full of first-in-a-lifetime experiences. Although, if we’re talking about life changing, there is nothing like the night we spent in the sprawling Thar desert in Western Rajasthan, 90 km from the Pakistani border. It’s when you are aching from the camel ride, freezing in the desolate desert night, tranced by the crackle of the fire, and mesmerised by the silvery night sky, that you begin to appreciate the relationship between us and the elements. I remember thinking, right before falling asleep that night inches away from the sand dunes, that the faint pulse of my heartbeat was the only reminder of my alive-ness. Despite being a fresh visitor, the desert had quickly engulfed my senses, and for better or the worse, I felt a part of this landscape, not a visitor.
I leave the reader with a paragraph written that very next morning, on 18 November 2014, when the fresh day’s sunlight warmed my face and a new sense of wonder illuminated my heart.
“I woke up three times last night, first to the twinkle of starlight, then to the call of feral dogs, and finally to the chirping of birds. By all means the Thar isn’t a real desert, but all this still felt primitive. The call of open fire and stars and isolation and desert men in indigo robes and camel shit – enticing despite my pre-consumptions of consumerism and tourism overkill. Here the elements just take over, and your senses awaken. Your icicle of a nose drips occasionally during the cold desert night – a reminder that your body is still hoeing and humming and doing its work in keeping you functioning. Otherwise you blend completely into the eerie silence, feeling the night and the sky not as an outsider but naturally, as part of its integral being. ”
Musings of a Leaf 