Redefined Timeline

This small village was a true off-the-beaten-path escape into rural India. This short overnight stay was punctuated by a Jeep excursion into the desert to go on a quick hike at sunset, a break from the bustling Indian cities, a cultural experience unlike Jaipur, and boatloads of adorable goats.

Tordi Sāgar was nestled in the foot hills of the Aravali mountain range with a ruined fortress atop, with gently sloping pristine sand dunes surrounding it. The village’s reservoir snaked through a network of canals lined with date trees. Temples were tucked into different corners of the hills, peppered with tribal settlements and farms.

The only guesthouse in the village, Tordi Garh, sat on the edge of the town and had a storied history. The 18th century fort and palace was founded by the Khangarot Clan that triumphantly overthrew the local rulers in the 16th century. The now hotel was steeped in local traditions, giving us tourists a glimpse at community life. The turrets lining the exterior of the structure were used during battle, and the building was a maze of courtyards, terraces and verandas. It was yet another unique inn. One of my takeaways from India was that most forms of accommodation were very peculiar, often being repurposed ancient buildings.

It was such treat to not hear car horns late into the night. The air smelled fresher, the people were delightfully friendly, and the morning breeze was calm and chilly. I would have loved to spend more than a single afternoon and morning in the eclectic little hamlet. Wandering the quiet streets was delectable. While many would call it run-down and derelict, this parish was a wonderful retreat with more eccentricities than I could have hoped for. It was a photographers wet dream, and I certainly used my crime scene photography skills from work in a less conventional manner. I took advantage of depth of field, composition, and coloring. Plus, Tordi Sāgar had a little more pizzaz in black and white! Which one did it better – black & white or color?

Most of the village residents delighted in greeting us ‘hello.’ The children running about loved hearing us speak, especially saying our (mostly) Western names. At night, the hotel was lit up like a beckoning Christmas tree. The residents were slowly converting thatched roofs to permanent dwellings, generally repairing walls with a pungent mix of cow dung and water. A woman sat Indian-style on the floor concocting this amalgamation.

A 4×4 Jeep-like vehicle took us out to the dunes with the gentlest of men as our driver. We loaded in the rear of the truck, and he piloted us out into the countryside. We stopped at the farm of a small family and strolled the grounds. We were allowed to sample a few homegrown vegetables scattered along their canal, or so our guide said. I’m pretty sure the tomatoes were pilfered.

Back out on the road, we happened upon a pilgrimage of humans marching down the otherwise empty street. They waved and shouted excitedly as they progressed towards their destination. The next pilgrimage was of the four-legged variety… a herd of happy goats being chastised by annoyed farmers.

After a leisurely drive, we parked at the base of several rolling sand dunes. The guide loaded up some masala chai tea in a thermos, and we started up the unstable dune. Once at the top, we admired the sun as it set on the sprawling landscape before us, all while enjoying a steaming mug of chai tea paired with biscuits. The word serene came to mind.

Courtesy of the guesthouse’s proprietors, we enjoyed a lunch on one of the many porticos prepared by the staff. The spinach and tomato curry could not have been for sumptuous. Dinner consisted of melt-in-your-mouth bone-in chicken and veggies and a glass of white wine. I somehow was not yet curried out.

The evening we arrived, we went on an orientation walk of the town. We met a family that made pottery in their quaint home. A third generation potter, the husband generated force on his wheel with simply a stick that he spun by hand. His wife and daughters painted the pieces once they dried, which were then baked in a kiln before being sold around the town. They were not the only old fashioned villagers occupying Tordi Sāgar. There were cobblers, mat weavers, ironsmiths, and alchemists. There was also a stable across from the hotel that could arrange for activities with the ungulates.

A few of us woke early the next morning with the express goal of viewing the sun break the horizon over the village. Most of us climbed all the steep stairs to the rooftop of the guesthouse. It was cool, and we were regaled with the sounds of roosters, crickets and goats bleating in the distance. I pulled my sweatshirt tight in an attempt to ward off the crisp, morning desert breeze. It was worth it for the picturesque daybreak.

And thus ended our detour into rural life in India. That morning we headed back to civilization in Pushkar. Before I bit you adieu, please enjoy a few photos of some splendid doors…

I failed at my goal to finish my India posts prior to departing 2025, but at least I got several done! Progress. And with that, fuck off 2025… you’ve been a crap-tastic year, and 2026 better be a stark improvement.

March 2024