Bhuj, Kutch and Mandvi

I must say, my trip this weekend to Bhuj was absolutely incredible; my best in India so far, and something utterly unforgettable. I should first explain that Bhuj is a relatively small town in Gujarat, situated beside the incredible salt desert of Kutch, while Mandvi is a coastal town a few hours from Bhuj with a massive ship building industry.

Saturday

Three of us foreigners took another sleeper bus on Friday evening, arriving at ‘City Guest House’ in Bhuj by 5am Saturday morning. We filled out the necessary paperwork and were shown to our room (nothing to write home about, but nice and cheap enough despite a lack of hot water) for a quick nap before breakfast (“butter toast jam?”). It was at the breakfast table at 9:30am that we first met our wonderful, knowledgeable and beautiful tour guide for the day: Kuldip, and our unbelievable adventure began.

Kuldip’s tiny black car (white by the end of the day) awaited us for the 280km round trip into Kutch, the desert and surrounding villages. This was where we started, inching into the desert land with stop overs in some local craft villages where we had demonstrations in pattered kitchen equipment and Rogan art; an ancient freehand, symmetrical art onto fabric using castor oil, now only created in Kutch. The skill these people possess is amazing.

We played crazy card and number games, ‘rocked out’ to the cheesy selection of music (everything from ABBA to Bony M, Bob Marley to Leona Lewis and of course some more traditional Indian songs), and with Kuldip’s sense of humour and unending energy, we had an amazing time just driving the straight Route 66-esk roads through a deserted but stunning land. We had chai stops, and at one point dared each other to stick our heads out of the windows of the moving car, for no other reason than “well, it’s what you do on a road trip right?”

One of the most enjoyable stops was when we went off-roading into the desert itself, kicking up dust and spinning the car faster and faster. We pulled over when we could no longer see anything in any direction and had some time playing sheep herder and angry desert man before spotting a wild boar running. We decided to have a little ‘safari’ and chase after it. The experience was made all the more special as the four of us stood toe to toe in the cracked, dried sand, and had a moment of silence for the world in a place where it felt the world no longer existed.

We were lucky enough to visit a tiny hamlet, miles into nowhere, where we experienced a glimpse of the reality of desert living. The people receive no education, not in a traditional sense anyway, they live in single roomed huts that need rebuilt or fixed after every monsoon season, and their only sources of income are the quilts the women make and embroider, and when a single man takes a month to travel to catch and sell fish in a town some hundred kilometres away. It was very humbling to learn of their lives which are undeniably difficult and a daily challenge, but to see them so joyous. Not a single child had a frown, and all were excited and desperate to make friends (this resulted in a competition of who can hold the poor lamb in as strange a way as possible). It puts life into perspective seeing how easy it can be to be truly happy.

The salt desert itself is the largest in the world and was mind boggling. ‘The Great Rann of Kutch’ fills with water every year during monsoon before draining again in winter, leaving behind a pure white land covered in salt. It was here that we watched the sunset which turned the white into pink, tried for another photo shoot, this time Kuldip making turbans from our scarves and played a little Marco-Polo.

The long drive home to the guest house was broken by a break in the desert again, the same place we spotted the boar. I have never felt as at peace as I did lying under the stars, hearing nothing but the natural silence of the land. We broke the moment only for storytelling and a little out-of-control rendition of ‘Stand by Me’.

It was a perfect day, made possible by our tour guide. The job title does nothing to show his commitment to the people and land, nor his passion, and I can guarantee the only way to see a desert and experience some of the world’s wonders is with Kuldip in Kutch.

Sunday

Our second and last day was spent half in Bhuj, wondering the Hilltop Garden, and half in Mandvi at the public beach. Here we met up with Kuldip again, and his Scottish friend Victor (whom I’m to meet for a curry with in Glasgow). We travelled by Government bus (to Europeans – normal bus) which was quite enjoyable after learning it looks worse from the outside, and hitched a lift back with Kuldip and Victor for our return sleeper bus. We had a fabulous time lounging on the overcrowded beach – remarkably similar to an English coast, except only in India does one face the problem of choosing 'camel or chai?' We enjoyed finding new ways to tell the locals ‘no’ to photographs, I think I’d do my nanny proud with my sass, and it was fun to teach the girls ‘I Spy’. Victor was loud and funny, outgoing and not afraid to give some Sottish charm to the Indians.

After dropping him off, the ever amazing Kuldip arranged dinner for us in our last hour. Despite jokes of kidnapping us, we had a lovely time at his friend’s farm where we ate some home cooking by the moonlight before saying goodbye. It was heart breaking to leave!