Rann down to the end of the world

It’s like walking to the edge of the world. The stark landscape, the cactii, the few shrubs — there’s nothing as far as the e...

It’s like walking to the edge of the world. The stark landscape, the cactii, the few shrubs — there’s nothing as far as the eye can see, except the horizon. Welcome to the Little Rann of Kutch, a little part of the world that seems to have been left untouched by the vagaries of development.

The conical huts seem to have stood in the village forever, as do the salt pans, gleaming in the sunlight. The women in their black and maroon mirror-worked cholis and lehangas add a spot of colour to the otherwise monochromatic background as they go about their daily chores. There’s no TV, no newspapers, no telephones, no electricity. But the Rann more than makes up for it: the silence, the sight of the sun bidding adieu to the day, the shimmering mirages, the vast expanse of land that seems to stretch endlessly, salt heaped up in neat pits — it all adds up to a visual experience that stays in your mind even after you drive away.

The deadening silence is broken only by the monotonous hum of the diesel pump that intermittently pumps out saline water. A salt-pan worker’s lot is a hard one: Agariyas have to be present at the site 24 hours, preparing the pan before they can harvest the salt. Working and living in sub-human conditions for nearly seven months a year would sap anyone’s energy. But not the hard-working agariya’s, who goes about his job with a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye. And in this great outback, agariyas have devised their own means of communication. Bye bye cellphones, bye bye telegrams, all they need to communicate with their family is a mirror, the right angle and their hands. Reflecting the sun’s rays through the mirror is the agariya’s SMS. Fast flashes mean there’s an emergency, ‘‘I need help.’’ Slow flashes say that all’s well. This and many other meanings can be read into the mirror messages — something that keep the agariya and his families connected.

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It’s hot. And getting hotter. The right time to set out on a three-hour cushy camel ride? A camel ride and cushy? That’s what this ride through the Rann is. Colourful and ethnic, the carts have tie-and-dye upholstery, a small pantry, a mattress to sit back and watch the parched lands pass by, even a few carefully chosen coffee table books.

The ride proved to be an opportunity to experience the spirit of Rabaris, Bharwads and Jats who migrate to South Gujarat from Kutch every year during the monsoon. In all three villages — Kharaghoda, Mithaghoda and Chikasar — conical huts, a chulha outside the house and bajra rotis welcome tourists. At the local market, there’s silver jewellery with kundan work, bright scarves, local handicrafts — all this and more to choose from.

The women making bajra rotis is what interests some Italian tourists, who try their hand at it. ‘‘It’s like moulding clay,’’ says one of them. Salt rocks, painted in bright colours, can also be picked up as unique souvenirs. The three-km journey ends near Navatalav, where tourists get a chance to watch the sun set and the moon rise at the same time. ‘‘The orange ball bids adieu while the silver rays add shimmer to the parched land,’’ says Marita, a 55-year-old tourist. Not very poetic, but it hits the nail on the head.

A trip to the Little Rann can be said to have been successfully completed only after catching a glimpse of the Wild Ass, a Schedule I protected animal. Framed in the middle of nowhere, the animal appears to be a shy animal. But it’s stronger, sturdier and even appears kind of majestic. Advancing in groups, the Wild Ass thrives on wild grass that grows in the Rann. The grass provides them with food and water, informs the guide.

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A recent census conducted by the Forest Department shows a rise in the number of Wild Ass, figures show that there are 3,863 of them in Gujarat. Maldharis living here often cross the wild ass and female donkeys and sell the hybrid, which is supposed to be able to carry more weight. ‘‘By selling the hybrids, we obtain anywhere between Rs 15,000 and Rs 20,000,’’ says a resident of Zinzuwada village.

Apart from the Wild Ass, the nilgai, chinkara, desert cats, cranes, pelicans and thousands of flamingoes that arrive to their migratory home in the winter make this an animal-lover’s paradise.

Entering the Rann through the arches of the historic Zinzuwada — the gateway to the Little Rann of Kutch — is like coming to mirage country. People here proudly claim that they show the way to the ‘‘most unique part of earth.’’ Water seems to be everywhere. Only when you step closer do you realise that it was a flash in the pan.

Head towards Mardeik Bet in the north-west direction from the 100-year-old Zinzuwada, and you feel like you’re in nowhere land. No roads, no trails, no signposts and no landmarks. All that exists is sand — in all directions, mile after mile. This could be where the world ends for all you know. And as the sun sets, the heaps of salt, which shine like crystals in the daytime, resemble mounds of snow. The Wild Ass goes into hiding while the salt pans take on the appearance of lakes. In the night, the Little Rann is an experience to be savoured. Words can never do it justice.