The Bagar Rock Climb

After a group night out in Bagar that was divided up by monsoon rain and dinner, four of us had broken off to walk back to GDL and call it an early night. Tushar, Sasha, Yuki and myself made our way down the mangled, sand-covered inner roads of Bagar, walking in and out of lamppost-lit pockets of visibility.

“Hey, you guys want to go climb Bagar Rock?” Tushar asked the three of us. The resounding answer was “Yes”, as the rainfall had stopped hours ago, and it was now a clear and breezy night.

Shooting a quick left up a side street, we made our way to what had always been referred to as "Bagar Rock". About 100 feet tall, it was a small but veritable mountain that overlooked Bagar and the surrounding desert. I had seen it from a distance, but never attempted the climb.

Wearing thin-soled sandals and gripping flashlights, we climbed our way to the top. A group of goats that we left behind at the bottom soon grew quieter, and the breeze grew quicker with each push upwards. Claw, pull, push, repeat...until there was nothing - just breeze.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting this. I could see all of Bagar living its life in total peace under small umbrellas of white electric light and the evening stars. In the distance there was the booming sound and bright lights of a ceremony in one of the local temples, and past that was the black void of the Indian desert. For 15 minutes, the four of us just stood up there in total silence. The sun was not abusive, the car horns had stopped, and the peace was unavoidable. I think I like India more at night.