Day Six: Jaisalmer

Woke up at 8:15, sweating. The fans had died in a power cut, but I had the roof to myself for breakfast then ambled to the largest nearby Jain temple. The Jains’ beliefs are similar to Buddhism, but follow a prophet rather than a god. The 21st prophet, or tirthankar sits like a Buddha in a yogic position, but with wide-open eyes and palms upturned. There are 6,666 figures of him arranged over two storeys in this temple. The entrance hall has a circular, carved roof featuring the Hindu god Ganesh and his mama and papa, Shiva and Parvati as a concession to allow them to build within the fort walls (though the Jains did provide funds to reinforce said walls). Clockwise circuits take in voluptuous apsaras and tiers that reflect the pyramidical towers outside.

Aspara in Jain temple

The Jains hold all life to be holy, do not wear leather, ride vehicles (should they crush an animal) or eat meat or root vegetables (in case the uprooting should harm a creature). For accidentally swallowing the fly, the penalty is three days’ fasting.

There are visiting holy men within the temple who lure you towards a donation tray whilst donation boxes for the temple tell you to refuse them. The big money is in guided tours, at IR75 a shot. But, for an insight into this peaceful religion, it’s worthwhile.

Local transport

I perched on a shady section of the fort wall to write but was soon disturbed by a woman wanting coins, a shoe black trying to tear and repair my sandals and tour group. I escape by walking along the dirty, but deserted ramparts, spying views of the surrounding city. A concert and puppet show are taking place by the gate at Gopa Chowk, so I descend for a closer view.

View from fortress wall

Despite the constant ‘helloo’s, ‘look not buy’s and ‘good morning, sir’s, a wander around the back streets is enjoyable. All the buildings are crafted from the same golden stone of the fort. Most have elaborate balconies.

Jaisalmer Fort

I stop for a large, juicy aloo samosa, then enter a pair of havelis (merchant houses). The first, the Nathmal-ki-haveli was built by twin architects, competing, but matching each other’s decorations. The second, the Patwa-ki-haveli is the grandest. Chambers within retain their original furnishings – silver bedframes, hookahs and tables for opium-eating (opium sales being one of the largest trades in the old city). The guide here gives me a sob story of poor income and low season (cooler February is the most popular month) as a prelude to coughing for a tip. I take a Kerala coffee from Krishna’s Boulangerie. Nearby a trader asks me about my earring. Apparently a ring in the left earlobe indicates that my left bollock hangs lowest.

After a sunset siesta, I seek out the recommended Desert Boys Dhani (roadside restaurant) and end up walking in the dark around the fort. A rickshaw driver comes to my rescue. The place is worth the effort of finding it, set in a tree-shaded garden. The mushroom paneer masala with rice, garlic nan and lassi were sublime, best of the week. The rest of the group missed out by going for an average Italian.

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