Thar’s Prophecy

Thirsty saplings struggling to survive, stunted growth of crops, abandoned fields, dried up ponds: in the desert these are telling signs of prolonged scarcity and a winter of misery that is in the offing

Rahul Ghai Bikaner

A cavernous layer of looming drought reveals itself when you leave Bikaner towards the remote interiors of the Indira Gandhi Canal project in the district. The sublime yet brittle formations of clouds set the stage for gloomy prophecies about times to come. After crossing the main canal nearby Pugal one enters what would perhaps qualify as one of the worst patches of human settlement, deficient in water and endowed with extremely poor sandy soils. The canal network dried up, clogged with sand, buried underneath it, as if it had never existed before. The landscape haughtily celebrates the triumph of the pre-canal geography of the vast chain of imposing sand dunes. Human intervention - with its grand, pretentious design of remodelling and greening the infinite Thar desert - seems trivial and grossly misplaced.

The signs of fleeting, erratic rains could be seen vividly inscribed on the face of the desert.  Different hues of sand, dramatic play of the scorching sun illuminating the moist patches on dry surfaces of the dunes. Thirsty saplings struggling to survive, stunted growth of crops, abandoned fields, dried up ponds: these are telling signs of prolonged scarcity and a winter of misery that is in the offing.        

Every year during these months unfolding of daily events become dramatic in the otherwise monotonous routines of the desert. Cloud gazing becomes the obsessive and impulsive engagement of all - men, women and children alike. Everyone watches with keen interest the white tufts of clouds, floating in the vast blue sky whose imposing horizons merge with the sea of sand. In no time the sun gets stronger and the sand is blazing hot. Slowly the tufts congregate and the formations assume a faint hue of brown that darkens over time. Evening sets in, and the harsh sunlight mellows down into cool soothing light.    

At Naju Khan's dhani in Bijeri in Kolayat tehsil of Bikaner district, we sit in the moonlit night watching keenly the dramatic play of clouds, dark brown with possibilities of life giving water, a regal light and sound show of lightning with sharp streaks of silver surrounded by an orange glow. And yet, the wind moved them away. Dinu Khan exclaimed with despair, "It will not rain here again, it will rain somewhere else, maybe in Bikaner." Yes, rains have slipped us yet again in this desert state.

When clouds play truant they are telling signs of another story: of anguish, collective despair. The marusthali dotted with sandy deserts and marshes, has been a stalking ground of droughts and famines. Naju Khan sings the couplet about the omnipresent expanse and presence of drought in the Thar:

Pag pugal dhad kotda
udaraj  bikaner phirto ghirto jodhpur, thavo jaisalmer...
(Feet in Pugal, neck in Kotda (Barmer) 
stomach in Bikaner, a frequent visitor to Jodhpur, permanently resides in Jaisalmer...)