A Journey through the Rann

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It's not a 'donkey'. That's the first lesson you learn if you are going to film the Wild Ass a shy elusive animal a member of the equid or horse family that lives in a magical landscape known as the Little Rann of Kutch in Gujarat.

We arrive late afternoon at the Desert Coursers Resort- a little complex with comfortable mud huts. This is where we will be staying over the next few days. The sun is setting by the time we drive in our jeeps into the Rann described as the bleakest, dustiest, and hottest region in India. It stretches for hundreds of square kilometers in the state of Gujarat, from the frontier with Pakistan's Sind Desert, southward to the Little Rann and the Gulf of Kutch. Despite this bleak description, the Rann of Kutch is a haven for wildlife- the little Rann of Kutch was declared as a sanctuary to preserve the Indian wild ass. The wild ass is considered an endangered animal and the Rann the only place in India where you will find this species.

My first glimpse of the animals is dramatic. We drive close to a herd of the animals, chocolate brown in colour chewing lazily in a corner - there are at least 10-15 animals ahead of us all of them females and some new born foals. It's the foals which are at once captivating with their long noses and tails that swish of flies in a synchrony. I watch from a distance, and my cameraperson has already started taking shots excited at being able to get so close to the animals. My producer, Priyanka has never been on a wildlife shoot before. She admits wryly right from the start that she hates all animals. But I can see that within a few hours, the Rann has captivated even my cynical 'animal hating' producer. We watch the herd of wild asses make their way across the Rann against a huge ball of orange sun.

I am curious to know how the wild ass lives with humans. And I am soon to discover that here in India's most desolate landscape, wildlife and people are fighting. The Rabaris are a pastoral nomadic community, but many today have given up nomadism and live on the edge of the Rann. It's their agricultural fields that has got them in direct conflict with the wild ass. As night descends on the Rann we walk in the dark to a farmers field. I meet a tall farmer with a white handlebar moustache -- he introduces his name as Ranchod from the Rabari community. Ranchod has not had the time to go home in the past two days. In the day he works his fields and by night he guards his crops. Every night his crops are attacked by a herd of marauding wild Ass. I sit with him atop a 'machan' late into the night as he maintains vigil but close to dawn the wild ass herds have managed to get the better of Ranchod. His precious cotton crop has been eaten by the wild ass and next morning Ranchod is livid. Despite this damage Ranchod has never thought of hunting the wild ass. But why is the wild ass being forced to come out of the wilderness and into farmers fields? As we film the story of the wild ass over the next few days we discover why. The habitat of the wild ass is today highly disturbed pushing the animal out of the sanctuary and on to the fringes bringing it into conflict with local people.

A multi-crore salt industry operates out of the Rann. And trucks in thousands enter the Rann cutting right through the habitat of the wild ass. One of the solutions now being suggested is to introduce the concept of zoning to ensure that the salt pans are restricted to specific parts of the Rann and the number of trucks coming in restricted.

Problems aside, the Rann still has patches which are wilderness unlimited. Perhaps my most magical moment in the Rann was to an evening when we went to shoot the flamingoes. We drove through thorny bushes to reach the wetland and soon a bed of pink takes over the blue waters. Hundred of flamingoes sifting out food from the water busy at work. Wafer thin legs support a pink bush of feathers. They walk in synchrony to silent music, looking forward and backward as if part of a musical opera on Broadway. There's no clapping or cheering but the entire landscape is an orchestra. A common crane launches itself into the sky, in another corner a heavy pelican despite its weight makes a light landing and the flamingoes dash their beaks bending forward swirling their pink beaks in the water looking for fish. I sit in a corner watching from a kikar bush hungrily taking in all that nature has to offer.

The next day it's an early morning drive to a nearby town from where the salt is left on the edge of the Rann and taken to the factories for processing. As our jeep drives through small villages people have just started their day. The Rabaris egg on the sleepy cows to the grazing pastures and women are already at the community well filling buckets of water. As we drive out of the villages and into the wheat fields the sky is taking on a purple haze. I have the urge to stand up in my jeep and sing with the wind. The weather has taken on a new mood. And we are then in the Rann. Soon a grey sky meets a brown parched earth. There is some conversation between them but the clouds part ways giving way to streams of sunshine. The heat of the Rann is back. Up ahead in the distance is a sight for sore eyes. It's a herd of wild asses. We drive close to them but not close enough as to disturb them. A mother with her foal looks at us quizzically shakes her head and goes back to grazing. She's decided we are safe. But the Rann takes on different colours with the hours of the day. It is now getting closer to midday and soon all you can see in the distance are mirages. As I walk on this cracked land, the sun directly above me, I have new-found respect for the wild asses. How must have these creatures evolved their survival mechanisms in this cruel harsh land and yet look a picture of beauty and grace?

I leave this harsh yet stunning landscape with a prayer that may the tolerance of people like Ranchod who live along wild animals never be tested and some management measures introduced soon so that the peace in the Rann returns again.