VI - The Camel

Apollo gave the desert 100 out of 5, asserting the morning we woke up under the stars on cold sand that he wanted to stay another day. His parents were greatly relieved, being on tenterhooks for any sign from the children that they have had enough of India. (Pancakes for breakfast each morning is really helping.) Currently Apollo’s favourite thing in the world is “camels”. Our great thanks go to Ratiya and especially Papaya for stealing his heart. 

The desert is a magical place – no doubt why it plays such an important role in all religions – especially these ascetic Indian religions – but no less in Christianity. The story of the Patriarchs largely takes place in the wilderness, as well as key moments in the lives of the prophets. The earliest Gospel begins with John the Baptist in the desert and it emerges frequently in all Gospels as a refuge, place of teaching and encounter. 

Even for the tourist, the desert offers something – especially stepping away from the noise and refuse of Indian cities – there is space and as much quiet as you’re likely to get accompanied by a 3 and 6 year old. There’s the glorious sunrise and sunset. There’s the high-definition star scape overhead and the soft sand underfoot. There’s the crazy miracle of nature that is a camel with its double-jointed bandy legs.

Standing on a dune with my two relentless boys tumbling up and down the dunes with the energy of springer spaniels made me pray. I don’t mean that in a pious or “I’m so grateful” #blessed way. The first step of prayer is connection. To mentally or spiritually take hold of the sense that we are connected: to this world, to one another, to a sense of purpose. Sipping chai in the dawn with half a red sun over the horizon watching children roll about like puppies, despite all the unfamiliarity, felt like home without any desire to be anywhere else, doing anything else. 

Often the world feels utterly indifferent, and technology makes life feel even more instrumental. Combine that with the sense of control and necessity that takes hold of our lives and we stop seeing enchantment, stop feeling our vulnerability, cease to have time for person that is in front of us, in different shoes. A guide in Jaisalmer mentioned that, being a desert city, its main industry is tourism, which because of weather only operates for five months. For the rest of the year he drinks coffee, plays cards and sleeps a lot. That is a very different sort of life. More like being an Oxbridge chaplain. 

There is something in our tourist-desert experience, especially within this setting down of work that is making me feel more connected: to my family, to the creatures of this world which here so surround us, to something a bit deeper that is our reason for living. That might sound strange coming from a priest and one who loves being a priest. But I’m also just a pilgrim soul and God is to be found out in the strangeness and wonder of our world, and especially in the mysterious and peculiar lives of all his many people.