"A rose-red city half as old as time"

So said the poet John William Burgon in 1845, and I first read the line at Kamini's Tales of South India.

I re-read it the other day, and the poem rang so true, now that we had enjoyed the privilege of seeing this wonderful wedge of timelessness. It took my breath away and I did not even try to put into words the wonder of it all.

Instead, I turned to a person, who has a better way with words. (Clever, aren't I?!)

So, here's a post by Sekar, with his pictures as well!

(Click on any of the photos for a more detailed, enlarged view.)

There are few places I have visited blind, as it were. Usually there are photographs I have seen, at times I have read a travelogue or history, and in these days where the internet is an outpouring of information, dipping into both official and personal websites before a trip has become as much a part of the trip as the actual travel.

With Petra, there was the memory of two movies, as well.
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was fun, an Indian masala movie in the western idiom, with special effects well beyond what Bollywood was capable of and a memorable climax which I learnt later was filmed at Petra. The sandstone cliffs and the Treasury were striking and filed away in my memory for possible followup later.
The second movie was Lawrence of Arabia. I had seen it as a child. Peter O'Toole's performance was powerful enough to stay in my memory along with the siege of Aqaba and a few other scenes. So much so that I was motivated to search for Aqaba in an atlas. I never found it – Aqaba was too insignificant to merit inclusion – and eventually concluded that I had misheard and that they must have been talking about Addis Ababa (which I did find) instead. Never mind that this meant stretching the geography a bit. 'Lawrence' was restored many years later and I duly made the pilgrimage to watch Lean's masterpiece in 70mm and surround sound. O'Toole was as impressive as I had remembered and the movie even more so. The stunning desert vistas around Wadi Rum, spectacular in 70mm, really took my breath away.

My sister had visited Petra some months earlier. Her account and the photographs she had sent us tempered my expectations. Yes, the setting was very special and the Treasury every bit as spectacular as the photographs and Indiana Jones suggested. What seemed incongruous, though, were her photographs of the shops clustering around the entrance, their signboards garishly proclaiming the Indiana Jones connection. I was half expecting what we normally see in India – the aesthetics of a bygone era juxtaposed with an in-your-face, ugly, modernity. Minus some of the crowds, dirt and noise.

I was pleasantly surprised.

Petra is some 300 kms south of Amman. We soon left the hills of Amman behind and found ourselves surrounded by largely featureless desert. Some hills dotted the distance, there was little vegetation and only the tall, wind blown swirls of sand broke the monotony. I had half hoped for some pale imitation of Wadi Rum, but no luck: the desert was not giving up its jewels to casual passers by. Featureless settlements had come up around the few crossroads, each with an oil-stained garage, a shop or two, a very basic restaurant and some windowed concrete blocks that served as houses. Amman itself was spick and span: these wayside hamlets were shabby and run down, though, outposts uninviting even in the midst of the dreary sands.

The Silk Road Hotel - terrific location, large rooms, but less said about the food the better!

We turned off the main road (which went on to Aqaba – THE Aqaba) and were soon among rolling hills with attempts at plantations and agriculture evident on the odd hillside. The road wound through the hills and suddenly, abruptly, we were dropping steeply into a valley. Sandstone bluffs stood out from the hills and hotels, restaurants and shops hemmed the road in. This was clearly tourist country. We wound our way down through traffic to our hotel, the Silk Road Hotel, wonderfully located by the entrance to the Petra site.

Indiana Jones was there all right, but was not the overwhelming presence I had expected. The visitors center blended well into the surroundings, the shops stocked with the things tourists looked for (water, caps, souvenirs, camera essentials) stood off to one side with Indy beckoning discreetly. The place was clean and people helpful. Warned to be back before dark, we set off down the path to the site. We walked down a shallow valley under clear blue skies, the barren hillsides glowing in the evening sun and some sandstone outcroppings giving us a glimpse of what was to come.

The walk from the visitor's centre to the entrance of the Siq
Much of what remains at Petra is a necropolis. The caves and structures carved out of the sandstone are mostly tombs. Of the city that thrived for several centuries, we can only see the remnants of a colonnaded street, a ceremonial arch and the ruins of several temples, only one of whose walls partially survived an earthquake which brought ruin to the city. No houses, palaces, baths or anything else survive. It is likely that most lesser structures were built of far less durable materials and either perished in the earthquakes which spelt Petra's doom or to looters once the city was abandoned.

The camels we saw squatted contentedly, chewing the cud and pretending to look wise
The donkeys hung around forlornly, looking stupid and bursting into loud hee-haws at random moments.

We visited in early June, towards the end of the tourist season. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Visitors have the choice of riding a horse, a donkey or being pulled in a horse drawn buggy, and once at the Treasury, camels are available as well for the ultimate authentic desert experience.

The Siq - water channels carved into the walls

The Siq narrows, hiding the treasure at the end of it

We walked. Despite the groups of tourists making their way back, despite the riders on horseback racing back and forth looking for custom, despite the cluster of shops at the entrance to the Siq – the long canyon that winds its way to the Treasury and the rest of Petra – there was this sense of timelessness. We were walking into the past.

Petra, ultimately, was all about water. We passed dry waterways as we entered the Siq. In the Siq itself, water channels were carved into the rock. At various places, openings were dammed and the water flow managed. Petra grew at the crossroads of several ancient trade routes that criss-crossed the Arabian desert. Water, and its inhabitants' ability to manage it, allowed it to grow and assume importance. We saw plenty of evidence of this as the canyon walls closed in on us. Fantastically coloured and contoured sandstone rose in jagged walls above us. At places we could barely walk three abreast, at others the passageway opened up, allowing glimpses of sky, the odd plant that had struck roots in unlikely crevices and painted earth where the sun caught the rocks' dizzying colours. Patches of two thousand year old paving forced us to walk with care. We felt like explorers.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, after more than a kilometer of random meandering, the Siq opens up. Ahead, carved into a towering sandstone column, is the Treasury (Khazaneh). There are times and places when photographs cannot prepare you for the real thing, when the real overwhelms the imagination. The Treasury is one such. Classical perfection almost untouched by time.
Al Khazneh, as you emerge from the Siq

The lower half - Al Khazneh
The upper half. This was carved first. All rock carvings in Petra are believed to be top-down
The inner, now bare chamber

The Treasury is actually a tomb. There are signs that the walls were originally ornamented, that there was more to it than just rooms carved into the rock. But what remains is hugely impressive. The smooth walls, the soaring, colonnaded entrance, the decorative carvings, all hewn out of solid rock, take our breath away. We lingered, wanting to make the moment last, unwilling to pull ourselves away from this place. For it was not just this structure, but the entire setting around us. We were in a broad cul de sac, blocked off at one end by a wall of sandstone broken only by a couple of fissures snaking their way up. A narrow break on one side was the Siq. Across it rose the Treasury. Away from the cul de sac, the canyon opened up and curved away, leading down to the rest of Petra's treasures. The twenty first century had become a distant thought; the ancient canyon walls spoke louder than our cameras, plastic water bottles and backpacks.

Evening was nigh, though, and we had to move on.

Petra does not ration out its treasures. There was something everywhere we looked: a tomb, steps leading into the hills, facades, more tombs and, our final stop for the day, an entire amphitheater, large enough to seat several thousands, carved out of solid rock.
The amphitheatre
Here and there were more of those phantasmagorical colours and patterns, completely unreal, nature's surprises for us jaded urbanites. People had lived here once, they had done mundane things and had worked hard carving these wonders out of unforgiving rock. Their lives, their ways, their thoughts have all vanished and we are left thankful that they left some lasting imprint that has cheated time.

Tomb of Uneishu, opposite the theatre. Look to the upper part of the hill.
Street of Facades - multi-storey necropolis

The shadows were lengthening and we needed to get back. It was uphill all the way back and we were ravenous as we sat down to dinner at a streetside restaurant just outside our hotel. The town was quiet, with little traffic. Many visitors to Petra are day trippers from Amman and they had left with their large tour buses. Those staying at the fancy places did not venture out. Budget tourists and some hopeful shopkeepers stood around, snatches of conversation floated up into the cool night, Petra bedded down for the night.

We had a flight to catch from Amman the next afternoon and wanted to make an early start, taking in as much more of Petra as we could before heading back to the airport. The hotel had promised a 6.30AM breakfast. We were at the restaurant at 6.30 along with a fellow tourist with similar ideas. An empty restaurant and a row of empty food heaters greeted us. Silence prevailed. We knew we were going to be delayed, but the row of heaters suggested a substantial breakfast. We sat and waited in anticipation. Someone finally emerged with a plate of toast and dumped it in one of the heaters. We waited some more and it became evident that the Silk Road was not planning to pamper us with a lavish breakfast. We grumpily made what we could of an unpromising situation and set off once more.

Dawn and dusk are cut and dried events in the desert. There are no lingering clouds and haze to soften the transition. The sun comes up and that's it: daylight is on you.
Beyond the amphitheatre, in the morning light


Walking past the amphitheater, we came to a row of tombs situated up on the hillside. Seen from a distance it was almost as though someone had constructed wax models based on the Treasury and then partially melted them. Unlike the Treasury which was sheltered from the wind and the sand in its canyon, these were exposed and two millenia worth of erosion had worn away the smooth walls, the carvings on the pediments and much else. Like abandoned houses, they looked on with blank and unstaring eyes as time took its toll, reducing grandeur to mere shadows of a better past.
The massive Urn Tomb, from ground level
The Urn Tomb, from the terrace
The Corinthian tomb, next door

We made our way up the hillside, and as we got closer the scale of these tombs became apparent. Up close, we had a much better sense of what these structures must have been like in their prime. Some were larger and much more ambitious than even the Treasury. Erosion had exposed the rocks' striking colours and the overall effect took our collective breaths away. Here, we also had a sense of location. The broad valley that lay before us was surrounded by hills and was well protected. We were in the desert – the sand, the lack of vegetation, the rocky sandstone outcrops, the dry air and clear skies all evidenced this – but in a relatively secluded, sheltered corner of the desert. Add the water and the Nabateans had chosen well.
Looking across the valley from the tombs
Below, we could see the remnants of a colonnaded road. Shops must have lined the road at one point, with a covered walkway supported by the columns providing shelter from the harsh sun. Remnants of temples - roofs, columns and walls missing - stood on either side. One - the South temple - was being restored and the scale of what had been was astonishing. Along with the ceremonial archway which framed the far end of the road, the feel was that of a Roman ruin, much like Jerash in northern Jordan.
The road, far below that led to the free-standing ruins
The colonnaded road, being gradually restored
The South Temple
On the far side of the archway was the only freestanding structure - the Qasr al Bint - that had survived the last of the earthquakes that, along with the loss of water, eventually led to Petra's abandonment. The roof had collapsed, but the walls, while damaged, still stood. This had been a temple and, as with so much else we saw at Petra, the scale of the temple and the imagination that had gone into its conception boggled the mind. We take progress for granted as also the notion that man's creations improve with time. These ruins, some two thousand years old, made us realize just how far mankind had come at the time of their creation and put our current situation in some sort of perspective.

The Monumental Arch
The south Temple - upper level
Qasr-al-Bint

Columns line a tomb
Roman-style amphitheatre
Tomb of the ObelisksPetra was a crossroads and its architecture was influenced by many of those who must have stopped by. There are obelisks reminiscent of Egypt, Roman amphitheaters, Greek columns and much else. Today's visitors come from further afield and leave their imprints in different ways. An old man had chosen a shady spot on the path we had climbed to display his wares. Trinkets and earrings, refrigerator magnets, coins and stones were all spread out before him and he called me over. These, he said in a conspiratorial whisper pointing to one pile, are Chinese fakes, and these, pointing this time to an adjacent pile, are genuine antiques. They looked identical. He didn't look in the least put out when I declined his custom and cheerfully waved as I left.

Time was running short. Two days, perhaps three, were needed to see all of Petra at leisure. We had hurried through as much as we could and as we walked back past the growing crowds we turned to take a last look at the monuments, stark in the mid morning sun, and somehow brought to life by the presence of humans, the canyons and caves once more echoing to the sounds of voices and passing feet.

The Monumental gate in the foreground. The bulk of the Al Khubtah mountains in the rear, with the line of carved tombs

Petra and history were a world away that night as we waited under the cold lights of Dubai's newest terminal for our flight back to Madras. Time and geography have strange ways of dealing with reality. Sitting in twenty first century Dubai, Petra felt unreal, a dream almost. We couldn't help wondering what, if anything, would remain of modern Dubai two thousand years hence. Petra would still be there, though. A little the worse for wear, but there, nonetheless.


Dead Sea ramble here.

Neem ka Thana memories

October 1995

Oh for the good old days!

The Taregna eclipse was not a patch on the fun we had during the 1995 October eclipse. It was Doordarshan's first live coverage of a total solar eclipse, and the centre of action was the little Rajasthani town of Neem ka Thana.

The moon's shadow bypassed Madras, so we decided to follow it on the telly. Prof Yash Pal of the UGC was anchoring the show from the studios in Delhi, and they had a remote unit at Neem ka thana. We were very impressed with the set up and excited as well.

Prof Yash Pal of course gave us a scholarly start by giving a little history and science of the solar eclipse and dispelling and rubbishing superstitions and myths of the effects. Then it was time to join the live stream from Neem ka Thana, and thats when the fun started.

The Neem ka Thana reporter was given to poetic and eloquent commentary, and went on about the birds chirping and the light wind blowing, while the cameras scanned the scenery, ignoring the sun altogether. After tolerating this for a couple of minutes, Prof Yash Pal interjected rather politely that maybe they should show the sun as well.

So, the camera did move to the sun, which was still under partial eclipse....but then wandered down again to the crowds milling around, the trees in the background, doing its bit to set the mood for this great event.

Slowly, the professor's agitation increased. At one point he barked,"Arre Neem ka Thana thum totality ko miss karoge, show the sun!" Then, the cameraman again went back briefly to the sun, but somehow his artistic and creative side needed expression and once again the camera moved on to more "scenery".

The good professor then reminded the remote DD team," Poora Bharat dekh raha hai, scenery math dikhana, Neem Ka Thana!"

By this time, my husband and I were rolling with laughter, just short of ROTFL, it was like an episode of Fawlty Towers, with the Prof assuming Cleese-like, over-the-top agitation at Neem ka Thana's Manuel-like obtuseness.

I was also amused at my mother's consternation and clucking, as she was in full sympathy with the professor's plight, not seeing the humour of the situation, while her irreverent daughter and son-in-law guffawed away.

The last straw on the Professor's back was when the cameraman started scanning the skies, looking for the IAF plane that was doing a pioneering sortie in the path of the eclipse to catch pictures at 80,000 ft!

As the commentator also droned on about the IAF mission, the Professor in the Delhi studio finally lost it!

He started a non-stop verbal barrage of the N-K-T commentator and his cameraman, and we just about saw totality as a result of this.

More than the eclipse, the good Professor will be etched in my mind forever. (I do wonder if he ever got invited again to the DD studios.)

July 2009

The eclipse of a few days ago, I watched for a bit on CNN-IBN, which had feed from China, Tokyo, plus a couple of Indian cities and Taregna....all very slick and colourless. Oh well.

The excitement for us, this time around, was that we could see it in Madras as well - we had 62% eclipse - and so my husband and son (who actually came and roused us to go to the beach. This is an event in itself, a red-letter day in our family history, since waking up early in the morning without need is unheard of!), went off to the beach, down our road.

The TN Science Forum - may their tribe increase - were out on the beach, distributing sun-filter glasses to groups of five, clearing doubts of enquiring minds, answering questions and dispelling myths.

There was one lady arguing loudly with them about the rationality of the beliefs, and the science behind it, and soon there was a shouting match between the volunteers and the pseudo-scientists!!

Re-energized and invigorated, father and son returned with the sun glasses, and I daashed off to our verandah, from where I also had a good view of the eclipse. I saw it when it was half covered and waning.

Mr Ramanan went to the Eliots beach, in Besant Nagar, and these are the pictures he took.

Through the clouds - Photo by Mr Ramanan

"We arrived at the beach at around 6am and found that there were already around fifty people at the beach, many settled around the Schmidt memorial. It was cloudy and I did not have much hope of good shots in my camera.

We had done some homework and arithmetical calculations, and arrived at the conclusion that 6:20 am would be when the eclipse was likely to be at its greatest phase. I did not have the special glasses, and so was just looking at the sun and unable to see if there was an eclipse.

When the clouds lifted - Photo by Mr Ramanan

"Around that time, luckily, there was a gap in the clouds, I just aimed at the sun and took as many as 30 frames, continuously. Later on at home, on reviewing the files only we came to know the partial solar eclipse has taken place!!

A chance shot with a blue rock pigeon flying by, Photo by Mr Ramanan

"In one of the frames, I saw that I had captured a flying blue rock pigeon against the sun! There were many of them in the sky that morning.

After that, we waited for another fifteen minutes, but then the sun became too bright for us to watch without protection. A lady advised my daughter and me not to try to take pictures, as I may overload the sensor and spoil the camera, and not look at the sun either.

We packed up and returned home, and my daughter grumbled to my wife, that I am more bothered about my camera than her eyes!!"

A new bird in town

The Hindu : Tamil Nadu / Chennai News : Fulvous Whistling duck sighted at Pallikaranai

Photo by Skandan - Dendrocygna bicolor

See that brown duck, he's not supposed to be here. This is Pallikaranai marsh, a wetland in Madras, and that brown bird is a Fulvous Whistling Duck. According to the experts, this is a first sighting for Madras!

Its visit to Madras was captured by MNS member Skandan. While we were all getting excited and celebratory by Skandan's report in our e-group, the coots don't seem in the least bothered, and the black-winged stilts in the foreground seem to be largely ignoring him.

Poor chap, here he's come from some far-away land, and nobody to give him a half-decent welcome. Now, if it was Bharatpur, it would be a different matter altogether.

Well, I bring up Bharatpur, because I went all the way there, (along with Skandan and others), and we saw Mr Fulvous' extended family - (I assume they are distant relations, the lesser whistling teals.)

Its like finding Toblerone in the local grocery store nowadays, when once they were symbols of your travel to distant and exotic foreign lands. Globalisation, I suppose.

Photo by Skandan - Dendrocygna bicolor

So now, I need to learn how to tell a Greater Whistling Teal from a Lesser. The latter is below. Gorgeous aren't they?

The lesser ones that we saw in Bharatpur, did whistle a lot. They would take off as a flock, whistle away as they did a sortie and then land noisily back among the red azolla.

Photo by Skandan - Dendrocygna javanica

Photo by Carthic - Dendrocygna javanica

Well, its do with the streakings and the size. The larger, is larger (well, but naturally,), and also has more white streakings on its sides. The Fulvous Whistling Duck is supposed to have a distinct, dark black line down the rear neck.

So, now I need to go off to Pallikaranai and see if I find Mr Fulvous still there...after all, one has to be hospitable to visiting guests.....maybe a Mrs Fulvous has joined?

Fulvous Whistling Duck - videos with their calls - Click on the link.

The day's surprises continued....

It was not done with. Skandan and Sripad, then also witnessed a David-Goliath kind of battle. The courageous black-winged stilts (David), took on a black Kite and then some crows, chasing them away, as they fiercely protected their little chicks.

Sripad's photo of the black-winged stilt chasing a crow
Sripad's photo of the black-winged stilt taking on a Black kite

Update - 20/7/09

Of course, the sightings led to much excitement, and many MNS members trooped off to Pallikaranai to see the new bird in town.

Chitra wrote in that she saw around fifteen of the ducks (so it was not a maverick couple), as they flew overhead, crossing the road, and heading north. She also reported that the marsh was teeming with avian life.

spot billed ducks, pheasant tailed jacanas, grebes, coots, BWS, glossy ibises, and the fulvous whistling ducks, along with the usual pelicans, painted storks, egrets, moorhens, purple herons, we also saw three bar tailed godwits one male in breeding plumage (reddish upper body), blue tailed bee eaters, ashy prinias, and black kites

I dragged my husband off and had a quick look-see this morning. We did not see the "stars" of the show, well in any case not well enough to identify...there was a distant bunch of brown ducks.

But I did not mind, because I added two more to my lifer list - Pied avocets and Pheasant-tailed jacanas!

The Pied Avocets have a lovely black-and-white wing pattern, which is captured in this photo by Abhijit Avalaskar so beautifully. I enjoyed watching them take off as a flock, and then come and settle down in the water. When they rested, they were in the background, and I could not see their markings all that clearly, but when they were in flight, it was oh-so-clear.

I cam back home and read a bit about them. They seem to have interesting feeding habits with their long slender upcurved bill, but they were too far away for me to observe this, but I did hear their "high-pitched kleet call" (Salim Ali), as they took off in flocks.

My first encounter with a jacana was at Dungarpur in December 2008, when an immature bronze-winged jacana had me foxed, with its spidery legs and walk-on-leaf spryness.

This time, I was prepared. There were these four spidery-legged birds poking about in the mud, with a long elegant tail, like as if they were in coattails! It was a dull and cloudy day, and these pictures dont do justice to a rather interesting looking bird, with a touch of yellow on its neck.

Sangeeth VS has taken a lovely close-up picture of the pheasant-tailed jacana here.

We then saw another two in the water, holding their tails up, as if they did not want to get them wet.

We wandered around for a while, seeing coots, black-winged stilts and dabchicks by the hundreds, and pelicans lining the electric pylons. There were so many bee-eaters, flashing past us, or sitting on the reeds. Then there were the large purple swamp hens and the smaller moorhens, the solitary purple heron, and a few white ibis. every now and then a black kite would glide overhead, and the ducks and stilts would all get a trifle nervous.

The cars and motorbikes zoomed by, honking impatiently and oblivious to all this lovely bird life.

About Pallikaranai

Pallikaranai is a freshwater wetland, situated in Madras/Chennai. I guess in the old days it served to keep the city's groundwater charged as well. Then came a few years of poor rain, and the city realtors and developers decided it was a jolly good idea to build in this marsh - how could we let such prime land go to waste.

On the other side, the city Corporation also decided to use it as a garbage dumping ground.

Choked from all sides, the birds fled. Citizens got together under various banners to reverse the trend, and there has been some success. The High Court has ordered that garbage dumping and burning in the area be stopped.

According to a report in the Times Of India, though, a High Court panel says garbage is still being burnt at Pallikaranai. The Chennai Corporation has been asked to reply to this charge by July 29th. Lets hope for the best.

Also, the remaining undeveloped areas have been notified as a Reserve Forest, and I noticed that the protective fencing has increased slightly.

These small steps have already brought the birds back. I do hope it continues!

Featured in I and The Bird #105.

So, what's the big deal about the Dead Sea?

• Its the lowest point on dry earth
• Its salty, very salty
• There's no life in it

My son did not seem very impressed with these points, as a reason to visit. I argued with him, we're never going to stand on the highest point, so lets atleast go to the lowest point!

OK, we did not go all the way from Madras just to check out this geographical phenomenon, but happened to be in the neighbourhood.

6th June 2009. Amman, Jordan

10 am, and we set off for the 45 min drive to the northern tip of the Dead Sea. My son did not think this was a good idea, especially since I packed swim trunks - What? You're going in to the Dead Sea?, he enquired querulously. His mood improved significantly on seeing our mode of transport - a Mercedes (dont ask me which one), with our friendly driver cum guide, Fadi.

All through the journey, Fadi chattered on incessantly, about Jordan, the Dead Sea, the benevolent dead king, the dynamic current king, etc etc. The roads were good, his driving even-handed and the sun outside sharp. I feared that I would drop off to sleep with the drone of his voice and the gentle motion of the car, and so made sure that I asked questions every now and then!

So I learned about the therapeutic effects of the Dead Sea, the lousy neighbours that Jordan has to suffer (I didn't tell him that we had the same problem), the political problems of sharing the river Jordan and even some biblical history about Moses!

Suddenly, he brought the car to a halt, behind a huge tourist bus, and as I wondered why, I saw this board, on the roadside!

We were at sea level! Needing to descend another 300 m to reach the shores of the Dead Sea. See those red spots, thats where we were. The altitude of Madras, and where we would find the Mediterannean Sea as well.

It reminded me of another board a long time ago. 4,000m, Rohtang Pass!

So, we stood besides the board and had our pictures taken dutifully, as our driver took several quick puffs on his cigarette - I suspect that's the reason they stop at this board. So they get their puffs and we get our photos!

Here's the other marker in the sand, to convince us that we were at sea level! The terrain around is rolling hills, with olive groves in some of the valleys but generally bare.

We could see the road drop down, and the driver pointed out a blue speck in the distance as the Dead Sea.

But doesn't the river Jordan flow into it? The river is dry, declared our driver flatly. Dammed by Israel, Jordan and Syria, so there's no water from the river into the Dead Sea. At this rate, soon there will be no Dead Sea. Already, the southern end has become mud flats, since the Dead Sea is really a lake, a very large one, and so needs the water to flow in.

We soon reach the bottom of the Dead Sea valley, the Jordan rift valley. Uh oh, should I be nervous? Isn't a rift valley not a very safe place to be? Arabia moved away from Africa many million years ago, and we have this huge "crack" in the earth's floor? I think thats a simple enough explanation for me.

The road is now flat and straight like an arrow. we reach a T-junction and turn left. The driver points out to me that this is not a T-junction but a four way crossroad - the fourth direction westwards, being the road to Jerusalem through the West Bank, and so blocked off and unused.

Now we were on the east bank of the Dead Sea, but it was hidden from view. Suddenly there was a check-post ahead, and cars were being stopped and papers checked. I did not have a jot of identification on me, having left everything behind at Amman. Hmmm, lets see how this pans out, I thought. But, Fadi was probably well known in the area and friendly phrases were exchanged, and all I could make out was "indo"...I guess he was telling the policeman we were from India, and we were waved through.

So, we arrived at the Dead Sea Spa Hotel. The oldest hotel on the block. How it works is like this. There is a "public beach", but we were advised against going there - its dirty, was the reason - and we were told to take a day pass into one of the private-hotel owned beaches, which is what we did. So, the package typically involves giving you towels, providing showers and a changing area, and there's a lunch thrown in.

We walked through the hotel, and on to the "sea front", to see this.

We came all the way to see this drab and still "pond" and these barren shores???, my head screamed out, but I maintained a non-commital face (Cant show the son how I feel can I?). Where are those dramatic cliffs and salt-encrusted rocks that I have seen in pictures? I must say, that I did feel let down at this moment. (Turns out, that the spectacular scenery is on the Israeli side. Oh well.)

I looked around and to my chagrin, the changing rooms were located behind this picture, if you know what I mean. So, we had to trek down the entire distance in our swim suits!! I began to chicken out, and then looked around and saw all the visitors quite happily roaming around in the briefest of swimwear, with nobody giving them a second look, and I said, oh what the hell, come on nobody knows us here, lets go!

So we did change and marched on down, the sun by this time quite sharp.

My son had this, oh-no, what-have-I-got myself-into, look, and so I had to lead from the front so-to-speak!

But reading this board, he perked up. Oh, so I dont have to swim, swim, and I dont have to put my head in the water. I just have to float and do nothing. Not so bad!

So it was, that we entered the waters of the Dead Sea, tentatively at first, but then with more gusto and verve. After a while we were enjoying ourselves! Its a bizarre sensation, especially if you are used to swimming in a pool or fresh water. The salt and mineral content push you up, and you can "walk" effortlessly in the water.

This is the view from the water, looking up at the Jordanian shore. Not very interesting is it? And there are hotel projects still coming up...

In case you are wondering about those people who look like they are wearing a scuba-diving outfit, they are visitors covered in the Dead Sea mud! I did it too, much to my son's disgust, but in order to prevent this blog from being rated as "horror" or grotesque", I shall refrain from posting visual proof!

Soon, it was time to leave, and here's a final look at the cliffs of Palestine...there was not a soul on the other side of the Dead Sea...I wonder if its a restricted area...

We showered away the oily waters of the Dead Sea, and attacked the buffet lunch with our healthy appetites!

Fadi was quieter on the return, though he did the usual touristy thing of taking us to a souvenir shop, where I bargained down the price of a Bedouin rug pretty dramatically, bought some Dead Sea mud and posed for a picture with the traditional Arab headgear!

It was an interesting day out. But since we were not into spa experiences or therapeutic swims, I wonder if it would have been better if we had gone off to the Mujib Nature Reserve, further south along the Dead Sea? Again, our Amman hotel concierge discouraged us from this. It was not a good season for such a trip I think.

Ranjit Lal and Bharatpur

The Crow Chronicles is Ranjit Lal's delightful bird-tale set in Bharatpur. Looks like he's visited again!

The Hindu : Magazine / Travel : Bharatpur resurrected

Bharatpur resurrected

RANJIT LAL
After a period of neglect and devastation, Bharatpur is alive with the songs of birds again…
Photo: N. Sridharan

The birds are back...
It’s a trip after several years — perhaps the first since the Gujarat earthquake. And then Bharatpur, once a mandatory annual excursion, fell upon bad times; all but written off like so many big-name banks today. Now tales of a miracle, w hich had to be checked out… The approach is not promising; the road outside the sanctuary, as I remembered, was two-lane and shady; today it’s a four-lane highway for which all the trees have been sacrificed. And as you enter, more signs of devastation: the canopy is all but gone, the landscape looks bombed out. But wait, this is all for the good, because what’s been blasted and uprooted out of existence — permanently — hopefully, is that rabid coloniser, Prosopis juliflora alias Vilayati keekar.

Heart-warming
In the hazy blue of early morning comes that heart-warming sound: the roar of thousands of waterfowl wings as ducks rise en masse, from the waters, like a Mexican wave getting airborne. Pintail, and common teal, shovellor and gadwall speed through the gossamer mists as their perennial extortionist the marsh harrier comes calling. They swirl and settle, only to be roused again within minutes. In the maroon azolla-covered waters, purple herons stand stock still, merging beautifully with the marsh grasses, and egrets dazzle in pristine white. A flock of bar-headed geese fly past, honking in that conversational way of theirs, and on a branch just off the path, a little cormorant yawns…

A trip around the drier sections of the park has less on offer — flocks of squeaking silverbills, pied bushchats, the odd shrike and that easy-rider the black-shouldered kite. Past Python point and the old hunting lodge and on to the waters of the Mansarovar which are teeming with birds. Just off the path, a pair of immaculate sarus cranes feed; and grey herons wing away with hoarse squawks of irritation. Here, the main attraction is those enchanting musical ducks — lesser whistling teals — bright-eyed and perky as schoolboys in their tobacco and copper plumage, showing off tints of blue-grey and dark grey on their wings as they fly in circles and splash down. They are resident ducks as are the naktas, or comb duck, which have a delightfully snobbish air about them, despite their ink-spattered faces! Purple swamp hens in their shot blue silks and size 16 feet and vivid red frontal shields and bills look like the ultimate viragos, and it suddenly strikes you that the birds here seem somehow more vivid and richly coloured than their compatriots in Delhi. This impression is reinforced by the rufous tree pie you meet at the canteen later; its brown and white is newly minted and rich, unlike the faded versions you see in Delhi.

Must-do
A rickshaw ride from the check post to the Keoladeo temple is another “must do”, for you get to see and meet all the main tourist attractions of the season: Sleepy collared scops owls in the date palms, dusky eagle owls glaring at you from the rims of their huge twiggy edifices, grey nightjars impersonating branches, dozing away the afternoon, a smirking monitor lizard, flapshell turtles, holding their heads high — all impossible to spot unless you had inside information, which the rickshaw pullers do. Again, the importance of actionable intelligence… We’ve been told that pythons have been sunbathing everywhere but don’t meet any this time. Also, we haven’t done too well with raptors so far, a greater spotted eagle on a faraway perch is all we’ve bagged, until another one flies over and circles around us, giving us all the time to admire its broad chocolate wings and wedge tail. Late breeding painted storks are still caring for ravenous adolescents, some adults squatting on the backs of their “knees” look pretty done for! We catch but a furtive glimpse of a black bittern, and of the three normally encountered kingfishers, the sapphire-spangled little (or common) kingfisher, is the last to mark its presence, but squats unconcerned on a stump, softly backlit in the early evening sunlight ready for all admirers! Darters strike their crucifix poses, one looking especially martyred as it changes the position of its head every now and then, and then starts preening.

There appear to be more Indian than foreign visitors trundling down the path and happily, they’re better behaved than I remember from past visits, even if a little bewildered by the variety of birds. Everyone is delighted that Bharatpur has recovered after the trauma of past years; it appears that one good monsoon and a little good sense has made all the difference. There are plans now to ensure that it never experiences that devastation again by arranging a perennial source of water so that both breeding and migratory birds can be happy. Better cross-border relations with surrounding villages have hopefully also been forged (villagers were allowed to cart away the hacked Prosopis for firewood), though there were the usual, unavoidable transgressions. Bharatpur is a man-made ecosystem, dependent on human management for its existence and well-being, with a helping hand from nature of course. We’ve seen what neglect and deliberate anti-conservation measures can do. It’s time we ensure we never travel down that disgraceful route again and that the plans for its eternal resurrection and happiness are actually implemented.

Quick facts
The Keoladeo National Park (formerly Bharatpur Bird Sacntuary) was originally created as a duck-hunting reserve for the Jat Maharajas of Bharatpur and is a major wintering ground for aquatic birds from Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, China and Siberia.



The park is open throughout the year. Best months are August-November for resident breeding birds and November-March for migrant birds.

Bharatpur is well connected by road from Agra (56 km), Delhi (176 km) and Jaipur (176 km), all of which have airports. The Bharatpur railway station is 6 km from the park.

It appears that one good monsoon and a little good sense has made all the difference.