Some people are afraid of silences. Of solitude. Of emptiness. Of nothingness.
There is this single long stretch of road that connects a tiny desert right in the middle of Rann of Kutch and the rest of Gujrat. On a hot, sultry day in mid-October, the Rann is filled with water as far as the eye can see. Further west, Flamingos will be poised in the Rann, meditating on the still waters standing on one leg. In the East, tiny little towns will be half-way through their post-lunch nap while a handful of shepherds guide their flock back home from rich pastures.
Our car stops somewhere in the middle of this road. This long road leading into infinity. On the left, gigantic electric poles accompany the road. Barring a few random shrubs on a small stretch of land far towards the North, there is just one thing: still water.
And of course, deafening silence.
The silence of the desert is inexplicable. It's beyond words, beyond even contemplation. We were lucky for there was not even a breeze as we got down to inspect the magical expanse of the Rann with its crowning glory: the silence.
Abilash says, “What a silence!” and I want to tell him “Oh yeah!! How awesome!” but I don't want to break the spell of the silence with my voice. I nod excitedly, my hands trying to add to the emotion I am experiencing.
For several moments, there is just silence all around us. Occasionally and reluctantly, it is broken by the sound of the shutter on the DSLR. We step onto the marsh sand and are rewarded instantly with a soft, sponge of an earth that appears to pull you into it.
Those few minutes of complete silence, complete total deafening silence – that's a bliss for some of us.