Jaisalmer sits right on the edge of the Great Thar Desert on the far western flank of Rajasthan. All that separates the masses of India and the multitudes of Pakistan is about 200km of desert. But it has not stopped the Indian military setting up here in strength! Bases of every kind seem to litter the horizon in the dusty wind driven haze. I am sure that every time an Indian Air Force jet takes off, its counterpart in Pakistan shadows its every move on their side.

In centuries past, Jaisalmer was a key town on major trading routes and the Maharajas here needed a fort to protect their trade routes, but also to ensure that the magnificence of their reigns was never forgotten. Here in this seemingly bleak, dusty brown flat desert plain, the fort of Jaisalmer stands out like a sentinel on its hill looking down in golden sandstone elegance.

This "major" town can actually be walked across from one side to the other in about half an hour. If you can stand the desert heat and the accompanying sweat that tickles down your back when any exercise is performed. Although not an Englishman, I understand completely the term, "Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun….!" And the kindhearted rickshaw drivers couldn't bear the thought of any white tourists walking in the heat and in their town. They even become like a bodyguard as they drove alongside us; imploring us to come with them out of the sun! So nice…..

But the most striking features about this is town are not immediately apparent. It is only whne you have walked around the town, through its bazaars and seen the blacksmiths beating red hot metal and the traders in their stores and up into its fort, that it starts to sink in what is different about this place. It is almost as if the future was a mysterious guest that walked in from the desert, unknown and unbidden and sat down at one of the many chai stalls for a rest and conversation. Indians being Indians, named the past, struck up a conversation and rather started to like this stranger. He brought strange new things with him and he showed them how have they all worked. Almost like a magician. Like any gathering in Indian, a small one soon becomes a big one, and this was no exception. Soon he was demonstrating the wonders he had and they were all enthralled with the crackle of electricity; the wonder of lights and cooking without fire and smoke. This stranger and his wonders were the talk of the bazaars and shops, the chai stalls and the household kitchens. Some thought his wonders would be good and grand. Others resisted. But the majority were excited and wholehearted endorsed this new wonder and all it could bring. Indians being Indians, as the traders they are, imagined what goods they could buy and sell (at profit, of course) to those that had this "electricity" and the marvels it brought with them. Here the past met the future and the union was happy.

The past is never far in Jaisalmer. It is definitely a place that has seen its better days. Long gone are the days of immeasurable wealth and grandiose lifestyles of royalty. But there are definitely glimpses of another age. Some of the walls and fronts of old buildings and havelis still retain some of the stunning carved golden sandstone. The rock is so finely carved as defy the material that they have been wrought from. You can slip into some of the older, more prominent haveli's of important people from the past and imagine their lifestyles of old. Sadly now, it is only the homes of old that retain these memories. Faded, crumbling and neglected in the desert air.

But the GoldenCity has not changed much at all since the days of opulence. Yes, there were these electricity cables hanging from pole to pole that resemble messy crows' nests. Yes, there is a sense of elegant decay and crumbing of the fort and its older buildings, but life goes on. Only just a little easier.

To make it into the fort, you walk through the main gate after various twists and turns. Elephants were used in war for, amongst other things, to barge down gates. To prevent this, defenders made roads leading to gates twist and turn because elephants need a little momentum to break gates! The gates are covered in parade ground precise and ordered spikes and hooks. Even if the elephants did get to the gate, and they survived the bows and other projectiles from above, they would be slightly reluctant to push up against the gates. Unless, of course, they had a major bondage fetish!

But in these peaceful days, the gates are wide open and the men have polished the floors of the old guards' alcoves and seats with their backsides. The marble has taken on a brilliant shine and many a backside has taken off the rough edges! Old men still watch you wearily as you walk by, the heat reducing them to mere spectators.

The romance of being in a city, and fort, that could well have been the inspiration of films like Aladdin is only added too when you sit high above the city watching the sun set and feeling the heat dissipate and drinking a cold beer. The landscape changes from washed out yellows and blues, bleached from the noonday sun to a spectrum of gentle, yet deep and enthralling golds, reds, pinks, dark blues and eventually black. While the sun is setting, the pigeons that call the palace walls home make for their roosts; and not long after out stream the bats for their nightly hunts while the call to prayer echoes across the city.

Sitting here it is no hard to imagine horsemen clattering up to the fort gates splendid in their dome silver helmets and chain mail, with lances held erect and curved swords and shields hanging from their saddles. Such men would have giant dark moustaches and even darker scowls as they would answer to the ghosts of similarly clad sentries manning the battlements and gatehouses.

"Who goes there?" cry the sentries.

"We are the union of romance and reality. Let us pass!" answer the horsemen below.