Desert Trekking

Iam , for the time being, near a village in the outskirts of the desert, Cholistan. It has no name. Here, the villages do not have names; they are numbered. And this one is: 156-NP. This system of nomenclature was introduced by the British when India was a part of their Empire and, they say, the sun never set in the British Empire; it was so vast extending from the shores of Africa to the foot of the Himalayas.

This village, 156-NP,  is some eighty kilometers from the heart of the desert. The land is fertile, although the subsoil water is not suitable for irrigation. They grow cotton, wheat, pulses, grams and such other crops. The land owners, big or small, have their own flock of cattle: buffaloes, cows, goats and sheep. They keep them in their houses, with their children, and rear and care them as their folks. And even mourn their deaths whenever one of their loved Katta’s die.

I live in a small “haveli” at the edge of the dusty road that links the nearby town to the village. For those who love solitude this is an ideal place: cool, calm, quiet. Far from the maddening crowds of big cities. Weather is perfect. Clear. Never harsh. Although it is winter but you are very comfortable without warm clothes.