Our visit in and around Bhuj included several impressive textile cooperatives with wonderful stories of village traditions preserved and lives improved. Of course, there were many gorgeous textiles to buy. Our local guide, Kuldip, arranged for me to see the bandhani dealer I had met at the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market. Lots of beautiful scarves!
From Bhuj we traveled north to the Great Rann (desert)of Kutch where herding animals is the principle way of life among the many communities (tribes). Mexican acacia was introduced in the area many decades back and it has become invasive, dominating the vast, flat landscape. Fortunately the goats and camels are able to eat the acacia leaves; there is a rough ground cover for the buffalo and sheep. After checking into our desert accommodations of exquisite mud huts (I am not being facetious here, as photos will attest at some point) we drove further north, through both police and army checkpoints to reach the white salt desert, 70 miles from the Pakistan border. We arrived in time to walk across the springy white surface that seemed endless towards the setting sun. With tourists getting camel rides, groups of women in colorful saris milling around and drums beating in the distance, it was one of those experiences that transcend time. With a hazy sky losing color, the horizon line blended into it, creating a dreamlike three dimensional vastness. After dinner back at the resort, some local musicians came to perform around the fire pit. It was indescribable -- more reminiscent of some melodic African songs than the music I associate with India. I fell asleep in my hut under several quilts listening to the gentle drumming.
From Bhuj we traveled north to the Great Rann (desert)of Kutch where herding animals is the principle way of life among the many communities (tribes). Mexican acacia was introduced in the area many decades back and it has become invasive, dominating the vast, flat landscape. Fortunately the goats and camels are able to eat the acacia leaves; there is a rough ground cover for the buffalo and sheep. After checking into our desert accommodations of exquisite mud huts (I am not being facetious here, as photos will attest at some point) we drove further north, through both police and army checkpoints to reach the white salt desert, 70 miles from the Pakistan border. We arrived in time to walk across the springy white surface that seemed endless towards the setting sun. With tourists getting camel rides, groups of women in colorful saris milling around and drums beating in the distance, it was one of those experiences that transcend time. With a hazy sky losing color, the horizon line blended into it, creating a dreamlike three dimensional vastness. After dinner back at the resort, some local musicians came to perform around the fire pit. It was indescribable -- more reminiscent of some melodic African songs than the music I associate with India. I fell asleep in my hut under several quilts listening to the gentle drumming.