I was searching for a unique and authentic rural experience in Rajasthan, a state of India and ended up at Hamara Villa village stay near Phalodi town in West of Rajasthan.
Nestled in the peaceful countryside of Phalodi town, Rajasthan, lies a place where tradition, nature, and human connection come together — Hamara Villa. Literally translates into "Our Villa" This place is for travelers who seek not just to visit India, but to live its essence. On arriving at Phalodi railways station I was approached by many tuktukwallas asking for my destination. Some arrive dreaming of royalty, some pass through to chase desert myths, and many become instant targets for hopeful touts. I said no repeatedly—until one auto finally won. The driver looked confused when I mention Hamara Villa. I had to then give him the complete address and the name of the village where it is located. He immediately recognised it by saying “ohh, that's a very famous village where many foreigners go”. We are on our way to Bawari Kalla village. Soon, the town dissolves, the road narrows. Dry land stretches endlessly, barren even at the edge of springs. Then suddenly, green appears. The auto leaves, the smell of earth greets me—deep, nostalgic, grounding. A proud man with a big moustache immerses from the house and welcomes me with a beaming smile and salutation in "Namaste" with folded hands.
I was then escorted to my accommodation, a two-story building in the open fields behind the owner's house. My room is on the first floor. As I climb the stairs, I see a huge furnished terrace at the front of the room with impressive gaping views. I knew immediately my favourite spot. In a simple yet powerful phrase Mr. Singh the owner speaks out loudly "you can unwind yourself here" As if this was an instruction rather than an invitation. Probably a habit he developed during his teaching days as he served for the Government higher secondary school in the village. The sprawling fields at the front of the villa are my front yard with a couple of big acacia trees that stand in the field to show their arrogance standing to confront harsh weather conditions in the desert. My Room is huge! Probably the biggest I have ever stayed in any accommodation. White marble floors are glittered like diamonds and the huge cubical bathroom sent me an invitation to have a quick shower after my long journey from Delhi on the overnight train. Fresh air feels indulgent to my lungs after the traffic and pollution of Delhi. The dining table on the veranda was the perfect spot for dinner. Standing like an obedient soldier a young man stood to serve me my meal. The culinary delights are cooked on a traditional open fire that creates an authentic tantalising taste —clean, honest, alive. Evenings spent walking through the village.
The sunset in the desert doesn’t blaze. It fades gently from its magenta glow. A safari was on my agenda the following morning. The sandy tracks and bumpy roads made for a real adventure. Our first encounter was Neelgai [blue bull], grazing in the fields. I also spotted a few deers speeding off in the opposite direction as if a tiger was chasing them. Finally we got to a little Dhani occupied by a farmer's family which consists of 17 members in a joint family of uncles, aunts and brothers. Dhani is a traditional term for a small, isolated settlement in the countryside. Often built in the mustard or millet fields. Almost half a dozen kids came to me with curious eyes and wanted to touch me. Mr. Singh informs me that they are seeing a foreigner for the first time in their life. A couple of them courageously ask me for a photo with my phone, my afterthoughts were they just wanted to hold an iPhone. I happily obliged them. I was served with masala chai and homemade Kheechiyas, a popular thin Indian wafer made from corn and wheat flour. The conversation flows as I learn more about their desert life. My curiosity was expanding as I kept asking questions about their customs, traditions, religious rituals. It’s hard to believe that there are still people living in such nomadic ways this day and age. I could write a book about their life and culture. Some of their social norms are mind boggling. Daughter in laws don't utter a word to the father in-law. They literally never speak. In their own world they all looked content and happy. The millet fields beckoned to take a walk and gifted me with the best organic watermelon I’ve ever tasted. I was informed that they don't even know what pesticides are. I was then taken to meet the curious ladies of the house. There were 5 elderly women all dressed in red and yellow Rajasthani Lehangas. Warm hearted and cheeky smiles they competed each other for selfies. The atmosphere was full of laughter, giggles behind hands and whispers. The universal language of gesture made my day. What an unbelievable experience. The next stop was a proud Rajpurohit, a priest community man who served in the Indian Airforce in the 60’s. He started sharing about his serving days and then more knowledge about rural life and Rajpurohit community. I was not expecting to meet such a well educated English speaking man living in this terrain with no electricity. This man would sure have a lifetime of interesting tales. I came back to my cozy villa and prepared for a deep slumber after such an eventful day.
Day breaks with the golden sunrise spilling across the empty fields, the calm interrupted only by the soft murmur of cows, chirping birds, and the rhythmic clang of a distant temple bell. No alarms, no traffic, just peace. Inhaling the scent of ginger-infused chai bubbling over a clay stove. My breakfast was a traditional spread of hot parathas, tangy pickle, fresh curd, and seasonal fruits, eaten cross-legged under open skies. Unless you want to eat on the big dining table on the veranda. It’s the first time I’ve watched the sunrise with my hands wrapped around a cup of chai, surrounded by serenity and birdsong. I’ve never felt more grounded.
Then the heartfelt difficult moment of leaving such an incredible place with a genuine host who cared so much that it brought tears to my eyes.
Some places don’t just impress you. They teach you.
Sabin from Spain
