The urban mind

I’d heard a lot about Little Rann of Kutch in Gujarat, but never been to that place although it is just about 100 km from Ahmedabad. My wife and I drove there recently along with a friend of ours from Mumbai, who was spending a weekend with us.  We were interested in seeing the wild asses, which are apparently found only in Little Rann. We also wanted to see salt production.

We reached Kharaghoda, our destination, without any difficulty.

We stopped the car at the first place where we saw huge mounds of salt. Workers were transferring the salt into polythene bags. We approached them and asked them many questions about salt-making. When we learned that the salt fields were about 15 km away, we asked them for directions. One of them, Parimal, who appeared to be their supervisor, said it wasn’t a good idea to venture into the Rann without a guide. Beyond Kharaghoda there are plenty of tracks but no roads nor signposts. We had also read about the need for a guide to navigate the Rann.

We decided to hire a guide and asked Parimal where we could find one. He said he didn’t know of anyone. Seeing the look of disappointment on our faces, he offered to go with us. We welcomed it readily. But I didn’t want to engage his services without settling the price in advance. Suppose he demanded an atrocious amount on our way back? So I asked him how much he would charge. He smiled and said he didn’t expect any payment.

As we were walking to the car, my wife pulled me aside and said quietly that it wasn’t a good idea to take that guy as a guide. We don’t know anything about him. Suppose he attacked us with or without the help of his men in the desert? Weren’t we walking into a trap? Why don’t we just go as far as the road takes us, and walk about a bit on our own, and return? I reassured her somewhat lamely that we would be safe because there were three of us. I didn’t suspect any foul play. After all, he didn’t offer his services until we asked. And this was not a place like a bus stand or a railway station where cheats target strangers.

As we approached the car and opened the door for Parimal, one of his associates also got in. My wife was even more worried now. I was also somewhat shaken.  But I didn’t stop him. Somehow I said to myself that there were three of us against the two ‘guides.’ Moreover, it was morning.

Once we reached the end of the road and entered the desert, we realised how difficult it would be for someone unfamiliar with the tracks there to get anywhere and more importantly to get back to Kharaghoda.

The two men turned out to be excellent guides and hosts. On our way back they invited us to their Seth’s factory where we observed how salt was being washed, crushed, iodised, and packed. They also offered us several packets of salt with their compliments. We wanted to thank them and return to Ahmedabad but they wouldn’t let us leave without taking tea with them. They sent a boy on a motorbike to a tea shop two kilometres away to bring us tea.

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As I look back at the morning’s experience, I feel ashamed of myself. What is wrong with my urban mind? Why do I look at every stranger with suspicion? At the same time, I ask myself if we weren’t foolish in accepting a total stranger’s offer. If he had any evil intentions, we would be sitting ducks in the middle of the desert although there were three of us. Were we just lucky? I am confused.