<p>Rakesh weds Amita’, says the painting on the wall in Hindi. Kishanji, who has become my philosopher-guide and self-declared mentor, all in a matter of 7 minutes, explains: “This is not any painting, but a wedding invitation.” I stop on my track to reread the invitation, taking note of the date. About 3 weeks from now. “This is an open invitation,” he says, “and even you are invited to the wedding.” <br /><br /></p>.<p>I’m in an alley within the fort at Jaisalmer in Rajasthan, once an important trading point of the Thar Desert, where caravans used to converge and men slurped tea around a fire at night, where warring kings used to cross sword amid battle cry, where Rajput women committed jauhar (self-immolation) during an indefensible siege. The fort is also known as the Golden Fort for the brilliance it radiates when sunrays descend on its yellow sandstone edifice, and the sobriquet got more popular after Satyajit Ray’s film by the same name, Shonar Kella (Golden Fort).<br /><br />Claim to fame<br /><br />Kishanji is guiding me through the labyrinth within the fort towards Mukul Wadi (Mukul’s Place), where the climax of the film was shot. Mukul is the 6-year-old protagonist of Ray’s film, and the real and the reel twine effortlessly within this 12th-century fort.<br /><br />We walk through the narrow lane, past playing children, past men on chore, and past women wearing bright red-yellow-green tie-and-dye sarees with ghunghat drawn till the nose and sometimes, even down to the chin. “She’s a newly-wed,” says Kishanji, indicating a woman whose ghunghat is drawn over her face till her chin.<br /><br />We stop as 2 scooters have blocked the lane as they try to cross without their rear-view mirrors elbowing each other. My mind still clings on to the open wedding-invitation. Looks like this open-arm, universal relationship of humankind is somehow preserved with the rampart of this ‘living’ fort, while the world outside is running away to an impersonal oblivion branded as progress. <br /><br />And, oh yes, this is a living fort. Kishanji sidesteps from the lane and leads me halfway into the courtyard of a house where an elderly woman squats on the floor, bending over a wide and shallow aluminium plate of grains of daal on her lap, diligently picking out the hard, inedible parts, and segregating the clean ones. “My cousin’s house. Chachera bhai,” says Kishanji. He exchanges pleasantries with the old woman. He turns to me and adds, “About 4,000 people live within this fort; have been living here for generations. And this single aspect makes Jaisalmer Fort so special.”<br /><br /> I follow Kishanji through the maze of lanes, past dwelling houses, and shops selling souvenirs and trivia; past a road-side gallery where the artist is engrossed in his painting; past ornate havelis, built by wealthy merchants, with jharokhas (enclosed balcony) of elaborate designs hanging from the floors above. We enter one of these havelis, which is now a heritage hotel. I realise how cool it is inside without air-conditioning, and even without the fan being on.<br /><br />On the platter<br /><br />The middle-aged owner greets us at the reception and Kishanji tries, unsuccessfully, to explain the convoluted family relationship with him. The owner proudly points to the framed social media certificates of his hotel hanging on the wall. “Mostly, Europeans stay with us,” he says, “Germans, Swiss, Swedish.” We take his leave after having sharbat, and after a short maze-walking come up to the Jain Temple, complete with its Dilwara-style torana intricately carved out of soft, warm stone, with a tirthankara at the apex. I stand in the queue of devotees.<br /><br />It’s time for food and Kishanji surprises me with his question: “What do you want for lunch? French, Italian, North Indian or local Rajasthani cuisine?” All within the fort! I opt for the local fare and wait for my dal-bati-churma. The tangy flavour of chilli pickle is already tickling my glands.<br /><br />Fact File<br /><br />Getting there: Though Jaisalmer has an airport, flights to it may not be regular. Trains from Delhi & Jaipur, and buses & taxis from Jaipur & Jodhpur are popular ways to reach the city.<br /><br />Accommodation: Heritage properties, heritage lookalikes and modern <br />accommodations are available, some within the fort and many in the city. <br /><br /> Best time to visit: Between October and March as the temperatures are low. Desert nights can get pretty cold though.<br /><br />Must-dos: Afternoon trip to the sand dunes at Sams, 40 km from Jaisalmer. Camel ride on the dunes and viewing the sunset from there are memorable.<br /><br /><br /></p>
<p>Rakesh weds Amita’, says the painting on the wall in Hindi. Kishanji, who has become my philosopher-guide and self-declared mentor, all in a matter of 7 minutes, explains: “This is not any painting, but a wedding invitation.” I stop on my track to reread the invitation, taking note of the date. About 3 weeks from now. “This is an open invitation,” he says, “and even you are invited to the wedding.” <br /><br /></p>.<p>I’m in an alley within the fort at Jaisalmer in Rajasthan, once an important trading point of the Thar Desert, where caravans used to converge and men slurped tea around a fire at night, where warring kings used to cross sword amid battle cry, where Rajput women committed jauhar (self-immolation) during an indefensible siege. The fort is also known as the Golden Fort for the brilliance it radiates when sunrays descend on its yellow sandstone edifice, and the sobriquet got more popular after Satyajit Ray’s film by the same name, Shonar Kella (Golden Fort).<br /><br />Claim to fame<br /><br />Kishanji is guiding me through the labyrinth within the fort towards Mukul Wadi (Mukul’s Place), where the climax of the film was shot. Mukul is the 6-year-old protagonist of Ray’s film, and the real and the reel twine effortlessly within this 12th-century fort.<br /><br />We walk through the narrow lane, past playing children, past men on chore, and past women wearing bright red-yellow-green tie-and-dye sarees with ghunghat drawn till the nose and sometimes, even down to the chin. “She’s a newly-wed,” says Kishanji, indicating a woman whose ghunghat is drawn over her face till her chin.<br /><br />We stop as 2 scooters have blocked the lane as they try to cross without their rear-view mirrors elbowing each other. My mind still clings on to the open wedding-invitation. Looks like this open-arm, universal relationship of humankind is somehow preserved with the rampart of this ‘living’ fort, while the world outside is running away to an impersonal oblivion branded as progress. <br /><br />And, oh yes, this is a living fort. Kishanji sidesteps from the lane and leads me halfway into the courtyard of a house where an elderly woman squats on the floor, bending over a wide and shallow aluminium plate of grains of daal on her lap, diligently picking out the hard, inedible parts, and segregating the clean ones. “My cousin’s house. Chachera bhai,” says Kishanji. He exchanges pleasantries with the old woman. He turns to me and adds, “About 4,000 people live within this fort; have been living here for generations. And this single aspect makes Jaisalmer Fort so special.”<br /><br /> I follow Kishanji through the maze of lanes, past dwelling houses, and shops selling souvenirs and trivia; past a road-side gallery where the artist is engrossed in his painting; past ornate havelis, built by wealthy merchants, with jharokhas (enclosed balcony) of elaborate designs hanging from the floors above. We enter one of these havelis, which is now a heritage hotel. I realise how cool it is inside without air-conditioning, and even without the fan being on.<br /><br />On the platter<br /><br />The middle-aged owner greets us at the reception and Kishanji tries, unsuccessfully, to explain the convoluted family relationship with him. The owner proudly points to the framed social media certificates of his hotel hanging on the wall. “Mostly, Europeans stay with us,” he says, “Germans, Swiss, Swedish.” We take his leave after having sharbat, and after a short maze-walking come up to the Jain Temple, complete with its Dilwara-style torana intricately carved out of soft, warm stone, with a tirthankara at the apex. I stand in the queue of devotees.<br /><br />It’s time for food and Kishanji surprises me with his question: “What do you want for lunch? French, Italian, North Indian or local Rajasthani cuisine?” All within the fort! I opt for the local fare and wait for my dal-bati-churma. The tangy flavour of chilli pickle is already tickling my glands.<br /><br />Fact File<br /><br />Getting there: Though Jaisalmer has an airport, flights to it may not be regular. Trains from Delhi & Jaipur, and buses & taxis from Jaipur & Jodhpur are popular ways to reach the city.<br /><br />Accommodation: Heritage properties, heritage lookalikes and modern <br />accommodations are available, some within the fort and many in the city. <br /><br /> Best time to visit: Between October and March as the temperatures are low. Desert nights can get pretty cold though.<br /><br />Must-dos: Afternoon trip to the sand dunes at Sams, 40 km from Jaisalmer. Camel ride on the dunes and viewing the sunset from there are memorable.<br /><br /><br /></p>
