There’s something magical about being up before the crowd, particularly here in India. Life kicks off at a more sober pace before the dogs, horns and people take to the streets. The rooftops are empty, the streets washed clean and a hazy sun struggles to raise its head above yesterday’s output.
And as the sun rises over the great fort of Jaiselmer the early morning sounds reflect how things must have been. The sound of quiet. Just the cooing of a pigeon and the sound of the first street cart being pushed into place ready for the onslaught. It takes about an hour; by 8am she’s awake. The haze clears (just a little), the motors start, the horns blow (who the **** are you honking at dude, the street is empty) and so it begins again.