Atop our camels, the Thar desert was even more exquisite. Women draped in beautifully colored sarees walked barefoot across the hot sand. A cluster of them carrying fresh well water to their families in large metal jugs balanced effortlessly on their heads. This tiny sandstone town carved in the middle of a vast yellow desert was teeming with dogs, camels, donkeys, cows, and people all moving slowly under the burning sun.

Two guides traveled with us by foot, leading our mounts deeper through the sea of wind swept sand. One of the guides spoke great English especially for living in such a remote part of the world. The other was young, maybe sixteen, and spoke few words to us. He had a face full of mischief and shortly proved to us why.

We were a bit outside the village, only a spattering of trees and animals scattered around the sand. About fifty yards ahead a lone donkey stood staring solemnly by a crooked tree. Our silent guide gave us his best mischievous smile then ran towards the donkey, reaching down to grab a fallen tree branch. He was quickly upon the donkey, branch clasped tight around its throat as his legs swung around to mount it. The beast was startled and bucked around wildly, but the boy held fast. Eventually the beast accepted its fate. For the next hour he rode alongside us astride his donkey like a proud child riding a large dog around the house. It was one of the more memorable parts of the journey, near as memorable as the wind blowing a fog of bleached white sand over the dark orange setting sun.

<Donkey Riding>

Location: Rajasthan, India.
Written by: David Jackson