A moment of truth and another of madness at the Little Rann of Kutch
We were off before the sunlight kissed the horizon on a sleepy and indolent December morning. The rising sun looked beautiful as it lent a kind of splendour to the perpetual sea of parched land. In the vehicle, I shivered in the rigorous chill of the salty desert air. The car slowly gathered speed making its way down the road as the morning was beginning to break into soft colours of pink and orange against the brilliant azure sky. My lips were beginning to dry and I had to lick again and again to keep them warm. We kept moving on the road until suddenly Gopal (the navigator) slowed down to turn right. The path was now no longer flat but marshy, parched and zigzag. He pressed the accelerator as we whizzed past ubiquitous dogs which didn’t shy away from racing against the vehicle. All signs of humanity slowly faded away and we were in the wilderness… of a different kind. To a passerby it may look an arid, desolate place but the connoisseur knows it