Bikaner

Bikaner began with a family argument. In 1488 Rao Bika, a son of Rao Jodha of Jodhpur, rode north into the Thar to carve out his own kingdom, and the city that took his name grew up on the caravan routes between Central Asia and Gujarat. A century later Raja Rai Singh, one of Akbar's generals, built Junagarh — a fort on flat ground with no hill to defend it, protected instead by walls, a moat and the desert itself. It is said never to have fallen to a siege.

The twentieth century belonged to Maharaja Ganga Singh. He raised a camel corps that fought abroad, sat at the table when the Treaty of Versailles was signed, built red-sandstone Lalgarh Palace and, most lastingly, brought Sutlej water into the desert by the Gang Canal. Much of the green you see in northern Rajasthan began with that canal.

Bikaner is a food city before it is anything else. Bikaneri bhujia — fine strands of moth-bean and gram flour fried crisp — carries a GI tag and is made in quantities that scent whole streets. Breakfast is kachori, lunch is ker sangri and dal baati churma, and the rasgulla here has its own reputation. In the old city, the Rampuria havelis show what the trading families did with their money; inside Junagarh, rooms like the Anup Mahal show what the kings did with theirs, every surface lacquered and gilded.

Faith takes stranger forms. At Deshnoke, 30 km south, the Karni Mata temple is home to thousands of rats, believed to be the reincarnated devotees of a fourteenth-century woman saint; a white one crossing your foot counts as a blessing. Closer to town, the camel research centre keeps herds of several breeds and serves camel-milk coffee and ice cream to anyone curious. Usta art — gold embossed on camel hide and lacquer — is a Bikaner craft still practised by a few families.

Do Junagarh first thing, before the day warms up, and give it the guide — the rooms make far more sense with someone explaining the hands that built them. At Deshnoke you go barefoot over a floor the rats share with you; wear socks and leave squeamishness at the gate. Time the camel centre for late afternoon, when the herds come back in from grazing. In the old city, walk rather than ride: the havelis are shut-faced from the street, and you see them only by slowing down. The bhujia is better fresh from a small maker than from a sealed packet at the station.

Water is the oldest luxury in this desert, so treat it that way. If you ride a camel, choose an owner whose animals look fed and rested, and don't let anyone overload them. Buy usta work and bhujia from the people who make them. At Karni Mata, remember it is a temple first: keep your voice low, cover your head where asked, and don't chase the rats for a photograph.

Bikaner is the quieter way into the Thar. Travellers who come for its fort and its desert edge usually go on south-west to Jaisalmer — a long day's drive, a golden fort that people still live inside, and dunes at the end of the road.