My road trip begins at Khimsar. The Khimsar Fort Hotel, to be precise. A luxury heritage establishment, I offer the appropriate ‘oohs-aahs’ before being whisked into the middle of the desert adjoining this property. It’s still sort of spring season (blistering days, freezing nights) and that means strapping taupe tents with ensuite bathrooms make for adventurous room options. While the sun, sand and storm (wind) got a bit much for me, I still recommend this outdoorsy tryst as an experience worthy of mention in any travelogue. Ask for a barbecue by a bonfire with some red wine to warm you to your toes – it’s a whole eventful footnote by itself.

Honesty forces me to admit my relief at reaching the next stop. Ajit Bhawan in Jodhpur is a sprawling spread of foliage-lined alleyways, leading to serenely private accommodations, where one can peacefully fritter away the day without disturbance. My agenda is more multidimensional though; to sample the deliciously hot mirchi pakoras from street vendors, to locate a table-tennis-ball-sized bor (a Rajasthani head ornament that manages to impart a royal and rustic feel at the same time) just like the ones I saw on local village women while driving to the city, and to scout the much-acclaimed soap market (I’m imagining wax paper-wrapped bars concocted with ingredients like rose, almond, cow’s milk and tulsi – blended as per palace recipes followed from centuries ago).

I’m disappointed on all counts. Mumbai hawkers offer a more piquant range of bhajias on any given day. The bor is surprisingly inaccessible; the jewellers I visit patiently explain that this is an almost archaic bauble, ‘See the modern pieces, Madam’, they urge. I do finally find success amongst a row of stores just outside the hotel; a faux pearl-and-garnet orb strung on a delicate gold-plated chain that beckons daintily; nothing like the solid 22k heirlooms I admired on the tribal folk, but this will have to do until I custom-order a replica at 20 times the current price.

The soap market is a disaster. Occupying the area of a few square feet, its prized offerings look little better than a slab of Nirma and smell like a cross between washing powder and unsalted butter. Not all is lost though – along the way, I’ve managed to nose my way into bite-sized stores selling threads and borders. I now have a wardrobe shelf stuffed with versions of the latter in gota, silk and brocade.

I’d say visit the Jodhpur Fort. Cobbled paths, painstakingly latticed windows, gnarled and moustached men in turbans minding the doors, a marble coronation throne, the princes’ grand cradles preserved to perfection and a breathtaking view of the traditional blue painted homes from atop makes for an afternoon well spent. The notices by the ticket counter announcing shows and musical concerts within the fort’s open courtyards do sound inviting; I’ll go out on a limb and suggest future visitors take their time here.

Bibajee awaits me on my return to the hotel. The princess of Bikaner is a regular patron of his Belgian crystal cut bangles and that endorsement is good enough for me. Though his eclectic shop stands proud in the city centre, he’s happy to cart a few bags of his best to my doorstep. Jade, salmon, indigo and amber – I select the hues and my wrists tinkle in happiness.

Suryagarh is my final halt. At first, it’s dismaying to note that the hotel is a fair way off from the city, but as we whizz past the buzzing town, towards more mellow desert area, the silent wonder of the surrounding landscape mesmerises me.

Built like an expansive fortress, Suryagarh imparts a resounding welcome with an impressive drum roll; I walk past smartly uniformed bearers, almost soldier-like in their stance and proximity to the displayed cannons. A pool of water is flanked by sandstone dome buildings on each side, while the grand entrance doors lead to a lobby surrounded by palace essentials – marble fountains, opulent crimson drapes, chunky metal armour wall hangings, wood and silver period furniture.

Fresh orange juice and cookies hot from the oven await me in my chamber, as my feet are first bathed in rose-petal water, then scrubbed with delicate salts and finally massaged gently. All part of the Suryagarh greeting. A rich and finger-licking Rajasthani lunch comes next – I devour bowls of gatta shaak in the open courtyard, admiring the high stone steps in front of me and the delicate sandstone cutwork all around.

The hotel is strategically located just a few minutes from Jaisalmer’s favourite folklore site, the Kuldhara Village. Abandoned centuries ago, the story goes that the villagers vacated their homes here overnight on discovering that the pretty daughter of the chieftain was being eyed as a consort by the debauched king. Future residents feared the curse of death allegedly placed on the village and consequently, this place is now a shrine to a tragic past; a collection of brick ruins that does not live up to its tale.

The Sam dunes, another short drive further, make for a must-visit. The silken gold slopes are enough to take your breath away by themselves, but Dubai’s acclaimed Lama Tours have now set up shop here to make this space a destination for adventure. Post some adrenalised dune bashing, quad biking and camel rides, I take a break by the campfire for an evening replete with hookahs, music and dance. (Suryagarh has aligned as hospitality partner for this venture offering a splendid Indian feast to those who want to make a night of it.)

Dinner is an elaborate affair on the hotel terrace. Received with gentle strains of instrumental piano and a showering of fragrant flowers, I am led to a specially prepared candlelit table overlooking the mammoth desert sands, as the customised menu presents international delicacies like a Cajun chicken salad, a cleansing cucumber essence and soya soup, the softest grilled prawns in a lemon butter sauce and a walnut brownie to end the meal. I’m a few kilos heavier by now but definitely many notches higher on the pleasure scale as well.

No trip of mine is accounted for without a shopping excursion thrown in. I’m headed to Gandhi Chowk at Hanuman Circle the next morning, where my first bout of retail therapy awaits. A cacophony of sounds assaults me; horns blaring in constant synchrony, a loud buffalo moo adding to this noisy chaos. Dirt and dust generously swamp the cramped lanes leading to wholesale shops that stock mirror work canvases and crisp organdie linens. Stores display ingenious and often hilarious signs to draw your attention to their wares. Surprisingly, there’s not much scope to haggle. Embossed leather albums and notebooks, wood and metal lifestyle knick knacks and georgette leheriyas in every hue – I’ve quickly filled my Gucci hold-all with these local goodies before heading for a well-deserved lunch at Trio, a much-recommended eatery that is adorned with striped tents and leads out onto a patio that overlooks a few quaint havelis, some rustic homes and the general buzz of the circle below. The typical traditional dishes are appealing, but I was more enamoured with this meal when enveloped in the luxurious grandeur of my hotel.

Patwon Ki Haveli is a true visual delight. Built by a generation of merchants as an erstwhile residential quarter, it is still partly occupied by the family today, while the rest of the rooms pay homage to a life gone by. I am taken in by the signature stone work and the exquisite stained glass reception room, even as another section of little shops call from the courtyard below. The prices here are higher than those in the main city but the charm of shopping in this enclosed portion of history cannot be underestimated. A turbaned local, casually sporting dark shades and snoring by a bench corner dotted with colourful puppets creates a memory that encapsulates the tugging pull of Jaisalmer.

Watching the Sonar Quila light up in the evening is also a sight that stays with me; another tour of another Rajasthani fort goes beyond my capacity for monument sightseeing so I’m content with this breathtaking viewing as I head back to Suryagarh. I may not know it yet, but the city has fortified its hold on me. While I may find the existing reviews of its attractions exaggerated, I cannot deny that Jaisalmer possesses the aura of a fading but still bewitching beauty that captures your senses with her beguiling wiles.

Ajit Bhawan Palace Resort

India’s very first heritage hotel, Ajit Bhawan is a living example of style meets history. Imparting a sense of life within a private royal home rather than a five-star lodge, this generous expanse of city space (it’s only a few minutes drive from the airport) offers a variety of suite variations, including tent-style rooms for those whom the wilderness calls out to. A spunky bar looks down casually on to a shimmering pool, and suddenly you’re in an oasis of exotica. Then you look up at the walls and building facades, which are unabashedly Rajasthan of yore, and the striking contrast tickles the senses.

Dine by the gardens with a choice of continental fare or opt for the ‘Dhani’, a clay house that serves fiery local specialties. The in-house store is a great stop for lightweight saris, wood and silver artefacts and souvenir trinkets, while a larger array of shops await you just as you pass the property’s fleet of vintage cars to get to the exit gates. Sit back, relax and let Ajit Bhawan pamper you royally.

www.ajitbhawan.com
Jodhpur, Rajasthan.
TEL: +91 (0) 291 2513333 FAX: +91 (0) 291 2510674

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