35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘MANY GHOST HERE’
high on its craggy plateau – even if that first impression was of a
gargantuan series of children’s sandcastles. Getting closer, though,
I thought it resembled old pictures of medieval Jerusalem or some
of the Crusader forts in the Holy Land.
The rulers of Jaisalmer, the Yadava-Bhati Rajputs, believed
themselves to be descended from the moon, via the divine lunar
lord Krishna, including for a thousand years among their many
titles ‘Guards of the Northern Gate.’ Remote, impregnable, and
now close to the volatile Pakistani border, Jaisalmer remains India’s
north-western gate, though no longer a key city on the Silk Route.
That disappeared when the British constructed the port of Bombay.
From its historic prominence as a hectic metropolis like Peshawar,
crossroads between East and West, Jaisalmer has become one of the
least-visited great cities in India: scarcely changed since the Middle
Ages, with its winding cobbled lanes, ornately carved overarching
houses, open sewers, and sense of vulnerability to attack that the
immense walls and fortifications emphasise.
The abiding reality for the ancient Rajput warriors has always
been the great Thar Desert, an inhospitable expanse of shifting sands,
scrub, and rock covering most of Rajasthan state and protecting its
desert kingdoms from their enemies while threatening to engulf
them itself. It was this desert that Bentley and I had come to explore.
And there was, unfortunately, only one way to do it.
When we eventually reached a hotel that called itself a palace but
was in fact a converted camel stable, the photographer was more
interested in exploring his bed.
Dawn. A fragrant mist rolled through the quiet streets, almost rosetinted
beneath a huge shimmering sky. Bentley was standing staring
at the jumbled mound of photographic equipment on his bed when
I opened the door. He did not look good. His moustache sagged as
if too heavy for him to carry, and he must have lost twenty pounds
since I’d last seen him. He didn’t have another twenty to lose. I
asked if he was ready to head out.
‘Yes,’ he said, uncertainly. Then he bolted for the bathroom. It
sounded as if someone were running him through with a sabre in
there.
251