A Magical Sunrise and A Miserable Dune-bashing In The Thar Desert, Rajasthan

I do not miss a sunrise or a sunset while on vacation. And I always put extra effort to ensure that, especially the sunrises.

Waking up early while on holiday is a tough task and more so when you are a night owl by habit. But, I always instantly change my routine the moment I went for a vacation. As a result, I have witnessed some of the most beautiful sunrises ever.

The first rays hitting the peak of Kanchenjungha seen from Pelling, the scattering light projecting behind the Kinnar Kailash in Kalpa, the red sun suddenly appearing from the Bay of Bengal in Puri or the light path visible through the fog resting over the tribal village of Bangriposi – they were all beautiful and memorable. But the sunrise that I experienced in the Thar Desert will top the list. It was magical. Incredible. Sensational.

After an early night on the previous day following an entertaining evening performance by the Rajasthani folk singers and dancers, it was time to wake up early and start the journey an hour before the sunrise.

We were awake by four in the morning. Our phone alarms worked perfectly. A guy from the resort security came to our tent at 4:30 am and informed us that the car had already arrived.

Read more: Staying In A Desert Camp Beside Sam Sand Dunes Near Jaisalmer | Things To Know Before You Go

Finally, the time has come. I was excited about two things – photographing the morning dunescapes and experiencing the thrill of dune-bashing. So, with my tripod in my hand and the camera backpack on my shoulder, we were out for a ride towards the sunrise point, a five kilometres drive northwest of Sam.

I sat beside the driver and the rest of us in the backseat. The drive for the initial few kilometres was on a narrow pitched road. Then the car started running on the open ground towards the west to reach the dunes. And, finally, started the thrilling part, “Dune-Bashing”.

It was our first experience of enjoying a drive over the dunes. A drive on the slopes of the dune by a notorious driver with all his gutsy twists and turns over the sand. And they call it dune-bashing.

The concept must come from the idea that it does not hurt if you fall on the sand. And then they improvised on the idea in all possible ways.

Literally, it was a bashing. Disgustingly bashing the creation of nature to enjoy the thrill out of it. I mean, seriously?? How one can enjoy bashing the creation of nature? And what kind of fun you get out of it? The thrill is as unwarranted as the action bashing is. It was just a pain in the ass. Nothing else. Nothing else.

My 60+ mother was the first to protest against the thrill with her replaced double knees, and pretty soon, others joined. So, we stopped the driver in the middle of a slope and told him to quit this adventure.

We were a group with an average age of 45 just because I have a kid of five years. Otherwise, it would have been 53.

The driver was a bit confused because this is what tourists pay for. And, Sunrise?? Well, you can see that from anywhere in the world!!

But when I told him that my mother had a problem with both knees and is incapable of withstanding this thrashing, aka bashing, he seemed a little convinced. At least his head nodding let me knew that.

After that, it was just hard pressing on the accelerator against the sand for the next few minutes until we reached the vantage point with a thatched roof shack in the middle of the desert.

When we got there, it was just us. Finally, I was certain that our driver understood the health condition of my mother. He quickly arranged a charpoy from a lonely desert shack and carried it to the top of the dune.

The charpoy was just spacious enough to accommodate four and a half people comfortably. We ordered our morning tea and settled over the charpoy while morning twilight started painting the eastern sky.

In the next half an hour, the place started gets filled up with more tourists. More young souls standing on the backseat of the car with one hand holding the guard rail tightly and another hand projected towards the limitless sky in an outstretched manner. And the faces are flooded with the contemplation of bashing the dunes hard and raw. What a feeling it must have been. Long live the Arabs!!

The eastern sky, in the meantime, started painted in red and yellow. The windmills on the far east just become visible, a couple of detached camel-carts were lying uselessly on the sand, and the camels were sitting in front of that shack. \

The glass of morning tea with crispy cookies from local bakeries was perfect to accompany the scene. I mounted my camera back again on the tripod and started waiting for the first visual of the morning sun to appear at the horizon.

With all those frames of Rajasthani village women walking on the ridge of a dune carrying stacks of earthen pots over their heads, all I can see were random prints of SUVs over the saffron yellow sand.

The sun suddenly appeared behind those windmills, and the visibility increased quickly with every passing minute. On the far west, I could see a camp resort in the middle of nowhere and tourists enjoying parasailing behind a running car.

The stretch of dunes where we were standing is smaller than what I saw at Sam beside the highway. But the place is serene, not the dunes, of course.

Suddenly, lines of camels started emerging behind the dunes, with a couple of people sitting on each of them. They started encircling around the smaller dunes. Must be the half an hour camel ride from the desert tour package.

As time passed, I took a few family photos before calling it a wrap and heading back towards the resort. The return journey was not bumpy anymore. No more bashing. Just loud Bollywood number from the car audio.

The sharp turning seemed habitual for the drivers in the desert, though. Giving a sudden jerk now and then while me and my wife standing at the back of the car. No outstretched hands. Only grasping the guard rail tight with both hands. I wonder who said age is just a number!!

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