The Valley of Death

I have spent the past few days following the main herd on its daily wanderings through the 700-hectare NRCC ranch. Ostensibly with the goal of familiarizing myself with 'natural' camel behavior and learning herding techniques from the raikas, I have ended up spending far more time simply wandering through the well-preserved range and enjoying the desert scenery. I am gradually getting used to the Thar, learning the patterns of vegetation growth and where to find the largest groups of miniature antelope.

On Tuesday I hopped an intriguingly barbed-wire fence. Walking in a downwind direction I had no clue what awaited me. Soon I was surrounded by the carcasses of dozens of animals-- cows, camels, dogs, buffalo, everything-- whose decay and reclamation was presided over by massive packs of mangy dogs and enormous congregations of vultures and other large birds. As the stench washed over me and I fingered my walking stick in hopes of never needing to defend myself, I recalled a warning I had ignored several days before.

When an animal dies, dalits (untouchables) are called to remove the corpse. After removing anything of value for later processing, they transport the carcass to a designated spot for disposal. It was this city dumping ground I had strayed into. Surrounded by years of decay, the aroma of death filled my lungs and I focused on getting away safely. It was only later that my thoughts turned to the people whose lives are consumed by such business.