The Rann of Kutch in Gujarat is a place that many from India have heard about, yet few have truly experienced. A vast, desolate salt flat, this was once part of the Arabian Sea until the waters receded, leaving behind a stark, shimmering expanse. Divided into the Little Rann and the Big Rann, it’s a challenging landscape that tests the spirit of anyone who dares to traverse it.
In February of this year, I crossed the Little Rann, a new chapter in my pilgrimage, the Walk of Life project. This personal journey of faith has me walking to each of the 12 Jyotirling temples dedicated to Lord Shiva—a 6,000-mile, or 9,000-kilometer, odyssey. I began in May 2022 at the Mahakaleshwar temple in Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh, and have since visited Omkareshwar, Somnath, and Nageshwar temples in Gujarat. Now, having crossed into Rajasthan, I am on my way to Kedarnath in the Himalayas.
Twice a year, I return to India to continue my pilgrimage, picking up exactly where I last stopped. For 15 days, I walked every day, covering an average of 25 miles per day. By the time I reached the Runn of Kutch, I had already walked over 1,200 miles, meeting people, encountering wildlife, and witnessing the diverse beauty of India. Yet, the Rann was an entirely new kind of challenge.
Walk of life
The vast, featureless terrain seemed to stretch endlessly before me. I started my walk at dawn before the sun rose on the barren earth, and the only sound was the crunch of salt or hardened clay underfoot. There was hardly any vegetation—just the occasional salt farmer’s home, scattered like lonely outposts in the wilderness. I learned that there are 19 schools for children in this otherwise inhospitable region, and I marveled at the resilience of those who call this place home.
Yet, for all its harshness, the Rann is full of life. Flamingos dotted the salt pans, their pink feathers creating a surreal contrast against the white ground. Further north, I spotted giant storks flocking among thorn bushes, their enormous wingspans making them seem almost otherworldly. These creatures, along with the 200 species of birds that inhabit the Rann, were a reminder of nature’s ability to thrive in even the most extreme environments.
As awe-inspiring as the birds were, the presence of wolves, hyenas, and wildcats was far more unsettling. Given that I started my walk between 2:00 to 4:00 AM to avoid the punishing heat, I had to remain on constant alert. On previous stretches of my journey, particularly near the Gir sanctuary, I had close encounters with wild animals. I wore a headlamp and carried a sturdy stick, hoping they would keep these small predators that roam this land, away from me.
Navigating by the stars
Navigation was another challenge. Until I reached Kutch, my mobile signal had been reliable, allowing me to access Google Maps and stay connected with the world. But the Rann, with its vast expanse and sparse infrastructure, interrupted my signal and left me relying on more primal means of direction—navigating by the stars and vehicle tracks in the ground.
It was easy to feel vulnerable in the face of such vast emptiness, but the warmth and generosity of the villagers who lived on the fringes of the Rann kept me grounded. In each village on my way to the Rann, I was invited into homes, fed by families who were fascinated by my journey and eager to help. They saw me as a pilgrim walking a path that few had ever attempted in this region. Their kindness touched me deeply, and I will carry their stories with me long after this walk ends.
The kindness of strangers
One of my most cherished memories was meeting a man who had recently undergone surgery for throat cancer. He asked me to pray for his health and that of his family. In these fleeting moments, the connections I made felt profound—strangers whose faces I may never see again, but whose spirits now walk with me.
Before venturing into the Rann itself, the elders of a nearby village gathered under a tree to ensure I was prepared. They gave me survival tips, checked that I had enough water and food, and warned me of the dangers ahead. For them, crossing the Rann by foot was an unfamiliar feat, and they wanted to be sure I was as safe as possible.
That night, I found shelter in the most unexpected of places: a large shrine dedicated to Shri Vachchhraj, a warrior of the region from the middle ages. This sprawling complex in the middle of the Rann offered free lodging and food to thousands of pilgrims. It was a reminder that even in the most remote corners of India, faith provides solace and sanctuary. A couple of days later, I reached Revdar in Rajasthan, close to the sacred site of Mount Abu, a place of deep significance for Jain pilgrims.
A new adventure
Each day on this journey brings something new: a different culture, a different land, and different people. And though I’m walking through vast and varied landscapes, the essence of India remains constant—its soul resides in the strength of its people and the stories they carry.
With the Rann behind me, I prepared for the next leg of my journey, which will resume on October 6, 2024. Friends and colleagues from across the country are planning to join me, and I eagerly anticipate the stories, landscapes, and people that await me on the road to Kedarnath.
You can follow my daily progress and reflections on this Walk of Life on FaceBook and Instagram. Until then, I look forward to sharing more stories from the road.
(The article is published under a mutual content partnership arrangement between and India Currents).
