Frying Pan or Fire?

We have made the move. Out of the campsite and into the wilderness.

Wilderness in the desert = ONE tree

Although, to be specific, we’re nowhere at the moment. We were at the venue for breakfast. Then I had to head back to the campsite because all the laptops at the venue were dead. By lunch, there was a power outage at the campsite. Back to the venue.

Now we’re back at the campsite again to charge our laptops. We’ve given up our tents, though. Our bags are in the Rabbit. We’re at least seventeen of us. There are twelve mattresses. We’ll be dining at the venue. And we’ll be sleeping in the open. That’s as far as I know.

Oh, and loos will be installed at the venue only by tomorrow afternoon.

Fun!

Level III

It is a staircase.

It is a slow and gradual climb. We are nearing level III.

Our ascent began the day the crew arrived. We were in a hotel in Jaisalmer, five minutes from the fort. It was a time of utter chaos. Even the festival venue changed. Nonetheless, the boys did get a lot of paperwork and permissions sorted. That was Level I. Ground floor.

We then climbed higher and moved closer to the venue. At a camp site south of Kanoi. Things got going. Master, Musician, Bumblebee and Bladerunner went on a famous killing spree. Batman too joined the party. The venue was tailored clean for the design team to later add elements. That was Level II.

We now depart for the toughest climb. On site. To our new home, the desert. The business end of the festival awaits with an evil grin on its face. In a few days, there will be another 90 of us working their asses off to get this bitch ready. God only knows what will become of it.

It is a staircase. This is Level III. I call it Pandemonium.

Shifting Stages

“Every time both of them start walking, I get scared,” says Grand Meister. “They’ll come back and say they now want that dune – all the way over there.”

“Sure, sure,” says Deputy H. “Then that dune. And then those trees. We’ll put up a stage on the Pakistan border also.”

Grand Meister laughs. “And we’ll put giant alphabets spelling Ragasthan on those windmills.”

We have been scurrying over the dunes like beetles in heat. It’s been a couple of hours already and the sun is taking a dive. We sit down for a break as well.

Batman and Kaptaan were right here. We were discussing how this dune could be used. Batman asked what this slope could be called. Then they were down the slope and suddenly they were a couple hundred feet away. Five more minutes and they were specks on the horizon.

"Look," says Sheriff. "Vasco da Gama and Columbus."

Vasco da Gama and Columbus have gone looking for Ujalo, the film tent.

What part of 'Get Up And Go' did you not understand?

We’ve been through this quest before. Yesterday, Kaptaan led us into the dunes at around the same time. “Let’s go find Ammara,” he had said. And we had followed like thirsty travellers looking for an oasis.

But locations have still not been marked on the dunes. There’s too much to take into account.

You need enough space between stages so that sound doesn’t travel between them. But even small distances grow larger on the undulating dunes. There’s going to be a lot of walking required.

Toilets need to be placed close enough to the bars and stages on the dunes. But toilets can only be built on solid ground. There’s some solid ground in patches within the dunes. But how do you get water to them?

More maps are scribbled on sand. The Morio stage is now trading places with Olun. Again. Ammara is locked. Batman and Kaptaan return to tell us that Udham and Ujalo have been found.

“And we’re thinking of putting giant alphabets on the windmills,” says Deputy H.

“Hmm,” says Batman and turns eager eyes to the horizon.

“What? No, no,” he sputters. “We’re just joking!”

Madcap Chatter

We have had a day of startling conversations. Here's a few.

1745 hours

On site

Deputy N and Deputy R

What are you doing, dude? You look retarded.

What? It's impossible for me to not play with sand when I am having a sit down. I can't help it, ok.

You can totally help it, OK. Stop having a sit down. That's how.

0110 hours
Tent 04

Back and Batman

Do you even realise how far you've spread out now? People are going to get lost in this vastness.

Well, maybe.

Doesn't that concern you at all? 

It does. But you know what? The kind of vibe that we have, Back, I don't think anybody would mind getting lost. It can be fun too, you know.

0415 hours

Tent 04

Batman and Back

What time is it?

Time for you to go to sleep, dude. Tomorrow will be a long day.

We've got 12 days to do what we need at least 45 for. Trust me, I need every day to be long.

1040 hours

Staff Camp

Sheriff and Deputy V

Which way is Olun facing? Towards the rising sun?

I don't know. I'll have to check.

Which way is Morio facing?

I don't know. I'll have to check.

What? Haven't you been marking everything?

Just the pathways. I am awaiting instructions for the rest. Don't even get me started on how confused I am.

1215 hours

On site

Kaptaan and Deputy V

The pathway has gone wakda, bro. Look at it.

It's the desert. Everything is wakda, no?

Arrey! How are people going to walk like that?

Wakda!

This was fun. I can't wait to do more. 

Meanwhile, Batman and Kaptaan take another walk.

They need to plot each section to absolute perfection, all within the next seven days. Thereafter, the design teams would take over.

Seven days. That's all.

Let's make the best of it.

Last Supper

“This morning, we left at six,” says Deputy S. First it was only him and Deputy V. As they were leaving, Deputy N woke up.

‘Kahaan jaa raha hai?’
‘Site.’
‘Abhi?’

The first tractors arrive at 6:30. Kaptaan needs two deputies to direct them.

‘Wait, I’ll wash my face and join you.’
And then Deputy R was up. ‘I’m coming too.’

The team has been on a mission.

Mission: Demolition

Kaptaan took us on a hike to the centre of the site today. He pointed to faraway landmarks. “See that tree? Those two trees out there? That’s where the Swiss Tents will be.” Hidden away in a colony all their own. Some areas will be tucked away within the dunes. Activities in the centre. Restaurants a couple of hundred metres from there. Hot-air balloon way out there on the other side. So on.

Kaptaan described it all like it will be. All I saw were chalk boxes in lonely clusters on a vast flatland stretching to the dunes.

The plot is now so clean that you have an unobstructed view from one corner to the other. But it is so enormous that you would barely make out what’s out there.

The sheer scale of this setup terrifies me.

Invisible tents. Book now!

At night, Deputy V is wiping his plate clean with rotis, chicken, rice, dal, bread, omelette and churma. “Aaj toh kapde-phaad kaam kiya.”

It’s just the deputies with us at dinner. Kaptaan and Sheriff are spending the night at the site. The first crew tents have come up today. We might be moving there tomorrow.

If so, this is our last supper here.

“Aaj kapde-phaad, aur kal tha palank-tod,” says Deputy N. True story. The bed in their tent broke down the middle last night. There’s no clear answer why.

Perhaps it’s just as well that we’re moving out.

Ragasthan Express 2013

'Next year, I am gonna have a god damn train running to Jaisalmer. From Bangalore perhaps. Via Goa, Pune, Bombay, Baroda, Ahmedabad, Jodhpur and Bikaner. Just for Ragasthan. I might even have one from Delhi. The more the merrier. I want to make the journey to the festival as exciting as the festival itself'.

More than a thousand people travelling to the festival in a train exclusive to them! Sounds sweet.

I gather that the hassles and opportunities of today haven't stopped Batman from looking at the future.

The wasp strikes Back

Back finds a wasp in our tent. It looks mean and intense. He screams like a girl and runs out to the porch. He even warns me against staying in. I don't pay heed. That thing has been here a few days now. It just flies around and makes terrifying sounds. I think I can deal with that.

Back comes back only after dark. He now finds a wasp's nest right under his bed.
He almost shits his pants.

Bhurut!

Demon-spawns of the desert. The scourge of these wastelands. An all around pain in the neck, foot and ass. Bhuruts have been a major part of this operation. And not in a good way.

Bhuruts are dried and hardened flowers of wild cactus grass. They are sharp, stubborn and spiny. They are like tiny anchors with lots of teeth. And they grow in clusters by the thousands.

Heat from above. Needles from below.

The festival site is a battleground. Soldiers return wounded every day.

And they have brought the demon back with them.

The bhuruts attach themselves to your clothes, your shoes, maybe even your brain. We now see bhuruts everywhere. There are bhuruts in the quilt. There will be a bhurut in the seat of your pants every time you sit down. There will be bhuruts in your nightmares, I kid you not.

Attached files could be potentially dangerous

The land has been cleared today. Tomorrow should be an easier walk.

But the damage has been done.

“I’m sure we can do the Siddh ourselves,” says Sheriff. (There’s going to be a Siddh performance at the festival.) “Walking on coals will be nothing after this.”

By that time, I tell him, we’ll be able to set a carpet of bhuruts on fire and walk over that.

Just in three

Deputy H is back. His eyes absolutely light up at the festival site.

'What, is this a different venue? Where did the mounds and grass lands disappear'?

'Mounds? Grass lands? Really? None of that is around anymore, dude. You missed quite a lot. We've turned this whole place into a giant dune bed'.

No fucking way! This cannot be the same place he saw just three days ago. Deputy H is convinced we are playing a prank on him. He asks me if it's for real. Did the guys really do so much in so little time?

I pamper his imagination. I lie. I tell him this is not even close to Kanoi. He looks relieved.
I can be evil and twisted when I want to.

Dawn of the Deputies

“Production is a thankless job,” says Kaptaan. When things go right, nobody thinks of the production guys. But when even a tiny thing goes wrong, they’re always the ones to blame.

Production people are unsung heroes. They work through shit to build you the stuff of dreams but the dreamers get all the credit.

Well, not on my watch.

The deputies are the first line of defence, and the first line of attack. They are foot-soldiers dedicated to the cause. They are the banner-men of Team Ragasthan.

A few days ago, three more have added to the ranks from Mumbai.

Deputy D aka Bhurut-Mata: Kaptaan says that the boys still step into the shade for a quick break sometimes. She hasn’t. Not once. Not even on the day she was fasting.

Deputy S: Landed straight in the thick of it. Thorns, that is. He’s been directing the tractors over them every which way. I’ve yet to see him without the most beatific smile on his face.

Deputy N: Rides the only tractor on the field without a roof. All day. He sits with the driver and goes over the entire site with a hawk eye, removing any trace of unwanted stubble.

Sun? No problem. We'll mow it down.

As for the others,

Deputy H is back from Delhi via Pushkar. He has sorted out the entire journey for the Ragasthan Caravan from Delhi. He got back at five yesterday morning after three days without sleep. And he headed straight for the site.

Deputy R has his serious face on. It’s probably because of the thorns in his shoes. Maybe also because when others break for lunch or dinner, he still has mails to send, calls to make and altogether too much information to keep track of.

Deputy V has turned several shades redder. He still carries the bag with all the water bottles. But he’s got much more on his shoulders than just that bag. By the end of the day, the poor guy is sweating and panting. And he’s still always the first on the ball.

Each is worthy of applause.

Hats off, deputies.

...Now let's put our hats back on. It’s hot out there.

Two for the cost of One

They have a new itinerary for the Delhi leg of the festival caravan. This one has a six hour halt in Pushkar.

That's two festivals for the cost of one. FTW!

Running Scared

There are spiders, scorpions and snakes in the field. But that’s not what the boys are afraid of. It’s the snake-charmers that have them on the run.

Some of the local women labourers belong to the Kalbelia tribe, an erstwhile nomadic tribe of snake-charmers famous for their indigenous culture of dance and music. Wikipedia calls the Kalbelia ‘one of the most sensuous dance forms of Rajasthan’. Traditionally, the women dress in black to replicate a snake. They dance in serpentine motions. And they sing with venom.

Kalbelia women can probably out-rap Eminem. They write songs on the fly. And judging by the frequent shrills of laughter within the band of women, the contents of those lyrics are strictly NSFW.

These are some seriously sassy women.

Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

Deputy V has been having a hard time dealing with them. “I tell them to work and then one of them will say something and for the next twenty minutes all the women are laughing at me.”

“So what do you do?”

“Kya karne ka? I turn around and quietly walk away!”

Whatsapp, Deputies?

“You must write about this.”

The deputies have their own Ragasthan group on Whatsapp. Seniors not invited. I guess it’s the modern day equivalent of the office water cooler where employees gather on breaks to gossip about their evil bosses.

Except that their phones beep-boop all day. They send each other messages even when they’re sitting face to face. I've heard Deputy N actually say 'LOL'.

And at the end of a conversation, they bend their head sideways and smile. :)

It’s a little disturbing. I can’t quite figure whether technology has connected or disconnected them.

Already, there is talk of dissent within the ranks. The teams in Mumbai and Jaisalmer have formed their own factions. I overhear some name-calling and friendly ribbing. Everybody’s out to get the other. It sounds like war. And it’s all happening on screens smaller than my palm.

Deputy V sits toying with his phone like a cat with a mouse. He’s the admin. If somebody breaks the peace, spams the chat or generally annoys him, he’s going to kick them out of the group. He smirks.

The deputies kick back, stretch their toes and laugh.

That’s when they tell me I should write about this.

This is three days ago. It’s the first day of work on the site. It’s not been a good day so far. The tractor has failed spectacularly and the JCB is on the verge of breakdown. The deputies have come back to the camp for lunch.

Lunch has gone on for more than two hours.

Kaptaan is still at the site. He’s furious.


The next day onwards, the deputies have been up by six. Some by five. They are at the breakfast table by 6:30. At the site by 7:30. Lunch is sent to the site in a large dabba. They grab a couple of quick bites on the field. Then it’s back to work.

Then it’s the sun in your eyes, the maddening heat on your back, sand in your mouth and thorns in your feet till the stars are up.

The deputies have shown extreme perseverance through it all.

The team gets back to the camp only by 8:30 in the evening. Most hurry through dinner, update their job lists and make the requisite phone calls. Some brave the chilled water for a bath. A few linger over drinks at the nightly round-table. Pretty soon, everybody drops like corpses.

But before they do, I like to think that the silent night still rings with a hushed series of beep-boops for a while.

Moving mountains

They show no fear.
That can either be a boon in disguise or a catastrophe waiting to happen.

The festival is barely a fortnight away. These are testing times for the crew. Yet their faces don't reveal any signs of stress whatsoever.

They work together and hard, day in and day out. They brave the unforgiving sun and make friends with the desert. They wear smiles to beat the heat. They sing, laugh, push, nudge, chuckle. They move mountains with their bare hands.

They look as passionate and eager as they did the day they got here. 16th, was it? I can't quite put a finger on it. Days and dates have become difficult to keep a track of.

'We will make it to the 19th with our heads still in place, our minds still at peace. I assure you that'.

They show no fear.
I wonder if they sometimes should.

The bee

Meet Bumblebee the second.
Wrecker-in-chief by day. Party animal by night.

Last seen in the able hands of Deputy N.

May the lord protect them both. Especially from each other.

Amen.

A new map

‘The centre is not in the centre anymore. I am sure of it. In fact, we have stretched very disproportionately to the left’.

Kaptaan is livid. We need a new map.

The flat land to our right isn’t flat at all. There is no way our men can level it in time. Obviously, that doesn’t sit too well with our plans. A large chunk of core activities now need to be shifted to the left. It is going to be a logistical nightmare.

Sheriff, however, doesn’t make much of it.

‘Arrey, what are you saying, baba? All we need to do is move a few things. That’s not such a big deal. On a plot that is as huge as this, the centre isn’t going to matter much anyway. People are not going to measure shit, you see. We just have to show them a good time, not our skills at geometry’.

The deputies seem to agree. They are young. For them, nothing is a challenge.

‘We’ll do it, boss. All we need is a new map and a few men like Master and Musician’.

The votes are cast.
We have a new map.

Dacoits of the Desertland

The team is sporting a new fashion statement. The desert demands it.

Guilty

The work done on the festival site is no short of amazing. Two days ago, it used to be a one square kilometre stretch of wild grassland. The late monsoon had sprouted thick (and thorny) shrubs and bushes all over it. It is now soft, sandy desert land stretching to the dunes. And now the land can be built upon.

Yet, four people have told me today evening that the sword they flexed cuts both ways. They are not entirely happy about what they accomplished. Removing that entire foliage means destroying the habitat of maybe millions of insects and reptiles that live there. If running tractors on the land has not killed them already.

I should have got up and gone...

What price are all those lives on a conscience?

Or on the environment?

Kaptaan tells us that we are to document the entire process of setting up so they don’t have to make the same mistakes next time. They need to make it more sustainable, more eco-friendly. This year, a friend is coming down just to take readings and give them an analysis on the festival’s carbon and water footprint. The aim is to eventually host a 100% Green festival.

But this time, what’s done is done.

Terminator. 'Nuff said.

First, when I BBM-ed Batman an image of the site post-apocalypse, he replied: “Guilty and relieved at the same time.”

Kaptaan: “But what is he feeling guilty for? He’s in Bombay. All the guilt is mine. I’m the one doing all this. It’s all on my head.”

Big Tony: “We must do a puja before we go to Pushkar. We have killed too many today.”

Sheriff: “Yes, so many lives gone, no? This is wrong.”

Kaptaan: “Bas***d, you have sinned too much already. This is nothing for you.”

Sheriff: “...That’s also true.”

Like a champ

'He is a part of the team now. This little guy has worked as much as we have, if not more'.

Grand Meister seems to have discovered some love for my man, Rabbit. Why wouldn't he? That dude drives us around for nothing in return. He probably doesn't ever want to move his white ass out of bed. Yet he gets going nearly every morning. He takes rocks and stones, sticks and bones - everything in his stride. Yet he never complains of a burnout.

No questions asked. He just drives. Like a fucking champ.
Here's presenting my man, Rabbit!

Unstoppable

The sun is down by 6:30. The moon rises like an egg poached in rum. By 7:00, all is darkness and moonlight. The team shambles to the cars. Pack-up.

And then we notice two pairs of headlights running circles in the distance. Those tractors refuse to stop. The local labourers have left, so has the JCB and the other tractors. We’re tired and aching to have a bath, a drink and a good night’s sleep. But these guys will not take no for an answer.

At the end of a long day, a sight like this breaths fire into your body. We sprinted all the way to where they were and clapped for them. Kaptaan whistled them down and thanked them.

They’ve been super productive. Absolute masters of their profession.

But wasn’t there one more? And there he still is – a pair of headlights snaking around the other end of the plot. Deputy S is riding with him.

Remember the Titans. These are the tractors that killed them.

The deputies have had a hard day as well. A hard day they can be proud of.

Kaptaan tells me that this morning he had stepped on a bhurut, the thorny menace of these lands, “and I must have said, ‘Ow’, you know. Deputy R was walking by and he said, ‘I have them inside my shoes. You get used to it.’ ...I loved it! This is what I’m looking for.”

Everybody had a major role to play. “They will all have stories to tell today,” said Kaptaan.

But in particular, a special mention for Deputy D. She was fasting today for Lord Ganesha, the remover of obstacles. She was out in that crazy heat all day, working non-stop without a morsel in her belly.

And if you could see how much has been pulled off in just one day today, you’d think, no wonder.

Master and Musician

It's organised mayhem really.
They stay glued to their seats and run havoc with just their grit and technique. Nothing escapes them. Nothing hides. They get burnt in the sun throughout. They smile and wave and bob their heads in excitement.

They are also the last to leave, way past seven.

They confound us all.

Master and Musician.

Both drive tractors.Both know their machines very intimately.

Both kick some serious ass.

Get Up And Go

The alarm went off at 6:00. I found the snooze button at 6:01.

The nights and mornings are getting colder. There’s a delicious nip in the air. The quilt feels like home. And then, at 7:00: “Keys? We got some stuff in your car.”

At 7:20, it’s Sheriff again: “We’re too many people. Think you guys can get your car out and come with us to the site?”

“Let’s go.”

9:00, I’m sweating already.

The festival site is a battlefield. The deputies have spread out. No instruction required. Three tractors are in mad swing. Another two are joining the ranks. A JCB is lining up.

I walk from one corner of the perimeter to another. It takes me thirty minutes. There is a buzz of activity all along. Tractors shaving shrubbery off the land, local men and women collecting and burning the waste, deputies taking point at the centre and marking out sections on the field.

Smoke, sand and chalk is flying everywhere.

I’m trying to think where I’ve seen this before. Starship Troopers, maybe.

Jab Tak Hai Jaan. Shahrukh Stage Khan.

At some point, it becomes apparent that the local labour is losing motivation. They are used to being called in to work for film production units. Film units usually have a catering service. Where’s lunch? And more importantly, where’s chai?

Soon, there are people disappearing behind bushes. Some line up for water every five minutes. Can’t blame them. The sun is merciless today.

That’s when we leave the site. The plot still looks like it has a bad hair day. Stubble on razor burn. We drive Grand Meister to the city and grab a bite. We get back after five hours. Clean shave.

At sundown, Kaptaan takes a break and plops down on the sand beside us. “But that man,” he says, “has been a backbone. He’s been on his feet all day.”

Padam Singh Ji.

He has probably walked every inch of the site. Deputy S says that they’d walk together for some time and then he’d have to sit down for a break. But Padam Ji just went on and on. He directed the local help all through the day, all over the plot.

Chalk to chalk. Dust to dust.

Post lunch, he noticed that the men were not coming back to work.

“So I asked one of the women workers to sing. She’s actually a Kalbeliya dancer. She started singing. Then the men started coming one by one. As soon as they were all there, I asked her to stop. Back to work!”

Day of the Deputies

Kaptaan: What’s the craziest thing you saw today?

Deputy N: A tractor doing a wheelie.

Damn. I missed it again.

“You should have been there,” says Sheriff. A tractor got stuck in the sand with its rear wheels up in the air. They had to get a JCB to get it free. Sheriff describes it like something out of Transformers meets Star Wars.

It’s been a good day at the site. Mostly. Deputy V says that if we go to the site blindfolded, we wouldn’t recognise it. The entire plot has been trimmed and flattened. But not cleared.

The local labour doesn’t share quite the same passion as the team.

Deputy V was bewildered the whole day. They got ten people but he can count only seven. 

“They must be on a break,” says Kaptaan. “Three people must be sitting down.”

“But there are seven people every time I count!”

Kaptaan is all praise for the deputies, though. And they look like they deserve it. Half of them have passed out before dinner. The other half have emerged fresh out of a chilled water bath at this time of the night.

“You should have seen them today,” says Kaptaan. “You know how everybody was stopping to take out those thorns the first couple of days? Today they were just going on with all that shit on them. And it was HOT! From twelve to two, boss. No one was in the shade.”

Lunar landscape. Solar flare.

Tomorrow begins at 6:30 again.

My camera is charged. My alarm is on.

People say it

The candle is lit. The mattresses are out in the verandah. The rum is clear and sweet.

Kaptaan prepares for an encore. 

‘And then there were eighteen’.

He begins.

Tonight might be the night he gets his rightful audience. He looks calm yet misplaced. It must be difficult wearing those shoes. Creating beauty out of nothing can be a daunting task.

‘It’s crazy. To think I said yes to this monster. By the end of it, I might even’…

‘People say I am mad. I don’t know. People just say it’.

Big Tony interrupts. 

He has a few things he likes to say and he says those things repeatedly. That’s his thing. He does that till dinner is served. Oh, and at dinner, he eats like there’s no tomorrow. That man can eat his way out of anything.

The speech loses its audience again.

Simple as that

November is almost here. There is a giant monkey on our heads.
It is time to step up and go blitzkrieg.

No soul can rest easy. From now on, every job is everybody’s job yet no job needs more attention than it does. Tempers are expected to rise. Things are bound to get misread, misheard and misunderstood. The odd person might even take offence. A discomfited phase of play awaits us.

It is essential to stick together, stick to the plan and march ahead.
Kaptaan can’t stress that enough.

‘It’s easy, bro. It’s a lot like planning your day in advance. You pick your clothes and keep them ready. You pack your lunch, chalk your itinerary and make appointments. You program yourself to your goals, basically. That’s all. That is all you have to do here. Be clear about your goals. Lay them out and plant them in your psyche. Once you have, there’s no stopping you. No stress, no delay, no conflict, no problem. Just fucking results. Simple as that’.

The deputies can’t make head or tail of it. They look baffled. Tired minds are seldom adept at comprehension. It is perhaps not the right time for a speech.

Tomorrow might be a different story. New day and all that. Tomorrow, when they are slightly less spent, the deputies might just get Kaptaan's drift. By then, however, we will also be just that one day closer to November than we now are. Nobody seems to make a speech about that.

Game Face

“Full game face, boss. Kal hai Jhansi ki Rani. Tomorrow, everybody should be ready at 6:30. And if you want to do push-ups, you can meet me outside at 6:00.”

This happened last night. Kaptaan was counting off the days to the festival on his fingers. Not too many left. (Days, not fingers.)

13^th onwards, all local labourers will go on leave for Diwali. So everything needs to be up by then. For that to happen without a hiccup, the plot needs to be cleared and marked before the stage-setup team arrives. They are due on the 1^st.

The plan is to finish levelling and clearing the entire festival site within today and tomorrow. If they can do that, then they can take all of 31^st to measure and mark the site.

“If we can get one day to plot everything out,” explains Kaptaan, “we can rectify anything that’s wrong.”

And it will take all day. The total area they need to cover is a little over a square kilometer. Time and money have both defected to the other side. The heat is taking a toll on whatever motivation remains.

And half the day is spent reversing unwanted acupuncture

But the show must go on.

So Kaptaan gathered the deputies and belted it out for an hour.

“What big companies do, we’re trying to do. Without any resources. And we have to. We have to get this done. It’s only us. You can’t be bothered about the sun or the heat. There’ll be snakes, there’ll be scorpions, there’ll be everything. It’s going to be bad. But we have to do this for the people coming to the festival. It’s all for them. We are not going to enjoy this festival. Get that in your heads right now. We’re not here for a holiday. We’ll celebrate when it’s over. For now you have to put every fucking thing into this – heart, mind, body, soul. When something needs to be done, don’t tell somebody else to do it. Just do it. Take a call. Do it yourself. Hum sab same level pe hai. We’re all labour. Set aside your ego. Everybody go do your own shit and block, block, block. Everything is sortable. Think on your feet. Your brain will hurt but you’ll sleep easily at night.”

Then he took a long look at his young battalion and softly added, “And if you’re tired, take a break. Don’t fall sick. Don’t be a hero. Just stay motivated and contribute, contribute, contribute.”

Man, Machine

Yesterday, Stage got back at lunchtime looking like a raisin. I decided not to head out into the field. We had the lowdown for the day anyway – the site was being flattened. They had first tried a tractor for the job, and then a JCB. Work was on. End of chapter. What else could there be to report?

Or so I thought.

In the evening, Kaptaan dashed into our tents. “Oh, man, you missed such a story today.”

Murphy!

The JCB had worked for only a couple of hours. Then it overheated and sank into the sand. A tractor had already wasted precious hours in the morning. Daylight wouldn’t last forever.

 I'm still waiting for that  JCB to turn into a Transformer

“At one point toh I was thinking yeh aaj hoga hi nahi.”

Then two brothers arrived with another tractor and saved the day. In two hours, they accomplished what even the JCB could not.

“Ek character actor aaya aur ma **** di heroes ki.”

Kaptaan is all praise.

“Mad skills, bro. They go like this. Then zwoop, the whole thing turns on one wheel. One wheel! Then the other way. Zwoop, zwoop, zwoop. One side of the field cleared.”

Sounds like it must have been quite a sight. I made a mental note not to miss it today. Then I woke up, stepped out, narrowly missed a heat stroke and crawled back into my tent.

Hope

We see it approaching from a distance.

The JCB is here now.

It is a seasoned murderer. It makes the tractor look like a toddler's toy.
There is hope in our eyes again.

Day by Day

How is a festival plot mapped?

Over and over.

A large stretch of land is measured. The center is located. Then somebody discovers that a small patch within the estimated area is unusable. And the whole thing starts again.

Yesterday, as the sun went down, we left Sheriff with the deputies at the festival site to do the grunt work. We joined Batman and Kaptaan for a ride to Jaisalmer.

Rides to Jaisalmer are becoming rare. The city is 45 kilometers away.

We returned late. Deputies were woken up for updates. There’s some new information about the plot. Last-minute changes are made to the layout. They have spent more than three days on it already. They have been plotting the dunes 100 feet by 100 feet every which way. On foot. In this heat.

It takes some serious dedication. People are beginning to lose weight. And not just the deputies. Last night, I had a conversation with a lampshade thinking it was Stage.

Yes, Stage loses weight even in the shade. It's THAT hot.

I told Batman I still find it all terribly exciting.

“It’s almost end of October and we haven’t moved a brick yet.” He laughed and shook his head. “At this point, I’m just dealing with this day by day.”

Then he fell asleep with his glasses on and his thumbs on the keypad of his phone.

A beast in a mouse trap

We hear it approaching from a distance. The tractor should be here in no time.

The guys have been waiting since 10.

They sit around a tree, talk amongst themselves and finish water bottles in a hurry.

Life goes on.

Deputy V springs to a sudden alarm. The ropes and measuring tapes are still in Rabbit’s trunk. They might need those things to keep a track of their layout. He makes a run for it.

Deputy R masks his face with a handkerchief. He looks quite feisty.
Deputy D sits down with a tweezer and plucks dry thorns off her pants. She wants none of that shit on her. Why would she?
Deputy N is confused. He looks like he wants to work real hard but doesn't quite know what he is supposed to do. Kaptaan asks him to take stock pictures of the adjoining hillock. The top of it will later adorn an installation of the festival logo.

The tractor arrives.
Sheriff jumps on. He looks like he owns it.

Kaptaan isn't very impressed with the size of the machine. The idea is to clear and level most flat lands leading to the dunes. This one looks too puny to take on such responsibility.
They still give it a shot, though.

It heads straight into the flat lands. A young boy of 18 drives it. Deputy S is also assigned a spot. He is asked to direct the boy to the right areas, which he doesn't do much of. He just sits there and holds on for dear life.
I presume it isn't as enjoyable a ride as it looks.

Meanwhile, the tractor shivers and trembles across the land. It doesn't do shit. In fact, it gets stuck more often than not, like a beast caught in a mouse trap. Every now and then, it chokes and breaks down. The guys figure it won’t probably work out. Kaptaan himself looks a bit freaked out.

This was supposed to be just a day’s job. Someone suggest a JCB. Everyone concurs.

The tractor is shifted to another bed of flat land, one that looks easiest to level. The contraption fails even that lowly test. It is stuck. Now it’s not. Now it is.

I haven't had so much fun in years.

Onward, Brigade

“Five crates of water. And one kilo of Parle-G.”

Supplies for the troops. They’ve taken off to the site after an early breakfast. Stage has gone with them. Presumably to scare the beetles away. Tractors are going to roll today.

I’m chilling in my tent till they get back for lunch. The plan is that I will head out with the team post-lunch and Stage will stay in to do the blog.

I’m hoping lunch is at four.