White desert (Rann of Kutch)

 In the middle of the surrealistic India and far out west is the dreamy White Rann of Kutch.

In this case, there is the earth and the sky that combines into an endless ocean of salt.

Scene two, roll in, luxury vehicles, straight to the horizon-Rolls Royce, Range Rover, Lamborghini- paying their respects to Kutch by blowing up dust.

Are we on Mars or planet Earth? That is crazy!” the man in the front seat says.

We were the only people who could discover paradise... and take our luxury along with us! giggles the woman in the back.

Then comes scene three at the camp of White Rann: luxurious white tents that are decorated with golden items, chandeliers inside, welcome beverage offered.

We are in the White Desert, time stands still, the moon is dancing with the land says the local guide.

The investigation begins in scene four: pedestrians going barefoot in the salt desert, making selfies, throwing salt in the air to have fun with it.

The narrator explains that, the Rann is not merely a desert. It is an emotion. The sense of infinite. ”

The guy in slow-mo responds, It feels like I am stepping on a frozen sugar.

Imagine that you are scrolling through a drone shot of a group of five friends having fun in the middle of the desert. All are standing around in a circle with their arms out, the wind catching the garments.

One of the girls comments, throwing her Gucci scarf on her shoulder, that she has the moon and dream-desert to visit instead of the Maldives.

.

The narrator interjects: secrets of the ancient desert are disclosed slowly, it seems to the narrator, through color, tradition and subdued grace.

Another high roller, flings his hands up in the air, and declares in a swell accent, This is the dawdling life I paid for. Here I go with my money!”

Now night is drawing on to twilight. The sky changes into warm colors to dark blue. There are people sitting on the floor cushions, drinking chai using gold cups.

Even the air is costly here to-night, a woman behind her hands says.

All of a sudden the moon creeps up on the horizon. The sand is as white as light and beamed in the desert.

Says the narrator, low-toned, a silver sea in the spotlight of the sky.

The group goes, wow.

The fire turns out to be blazing. Traditional dancers are spinning, their ghagras are bright and they are kicking. Audience applauds and even starts jumping when the drums come.

A man who has court with a local dancer is pumping a fist. I was here to have peace but instead got a party, he shouts.

Within this silent desert, the laughter prevails, the cultures clash against one another and every person becomes a child of the moon.