Travel Stories

February 11, the Great Thar Desert, India, by Xerxes Marduk

Part 4

I returned to the group under the tree and noticed that none of the others had left the security, and now familiarity, of the ring of camels and of each other. They must have thought me quite brave or strange for walking off into the desert on my own. I talked idly to some Danish girls who had all sorts of questions to ask me about my travels and myself.

Mounting back up on our camels we rode for four more hours further into the desert, occasionally shouting questions or comments back and forth between the camels. But mostly we enjoyed the splendor around us in silence.

The camel men didn't ride camels; they walked behind and around us keeping our camels in line with strange chirping sounds and sharp whacks across the backs of our camel's legs when they were misbehaving.

As evening approached we sopped in the lee of a grassy hill of sand and set up camp for the night. After I unpacked my stuff I set off into the desert to watch the sunset from an unseen dune. As soon as I was out of sight of the others I broke into a run and flew across the hills of sand. Up one valley and down the next. I ran with my arms outstretched, feeling as free as the air. I collapsed on my knees and gulped in air as if it were life itself. I noticed between my knees and large, black, dung beetle crawling slowly across the sand. Unknown to it I followed its progress at a short distance and observed it, entranced, as it started munching on a dried piece of dung. I brought my face within inches as the beetle as placidly as a cow chewing hay munched contently on the fragment of dung. I listened to a dung beetle eat dried dung, and that sound is a sound I had never heard before in my life.

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