As any visitor to the Indian desert fortress-city of Jaisalmer will tell you, it's a good deal easier to explore the 12th century citadel these days. Your path might still be barred by curly horned cows, spotted pigs or women goatherds. You might still fall victim to silver-tongued shopkeepers who spring from tiny medieval doorways while you gaze, speechless, at magnificent sandstone palaces, ornate Jain temples or the finely wrought manors of the palace élite. But now you're less likely to find yourself ankle-deep in what used to be Jaisalmer's main impediment: human waste. Gone are the days when alleyways doubled as communal lavatories and just a whiff of the walled city revealed what travel guides really meant when they said life hadn't changed since the Dark Ages. Jaisalmer has had a cleanup.
But although it no longer smells like a barbarian outhouse, it will take a lot more than a serious scrub to save the ancient fortress. Time has finally caught up with the jewel of Rajasthan. The great, golden sand castle shimmering across the Thar Desert is on the brink of collapse. For centuries its sandstone walls have housed what is still one of the world's few inhabited forts, and is home to some 2,000 people. But since its heyday in the 16th and 17th centuries, when it was the last filling station for colossal caravans traveling the Silk Route, Jaisalmer has been in decline. And over the past two decades, the decay has accelerated. Hundreds of historic buildings have crumbled like shortbread and dozens more are rapidly deteriorating. The arrival of thousands of tourists every year has also exacerbated the ruin.
The irony, for a desert city in its fifth consecutive year of drought, is that it is water that's killing Jaisalmer. The city was built of dry stone in 1156, before the advent of piped water and underground sewers. In those days, residents collected their water from a nearby lake and stored it in clay urns. Today the gallons piped in daily to meet the demands of a growing population and its shower-needy visitors are overwhelming the ancient plumbing. "Seepage into the foundations has left many structures unstable," says Sue Carpenter, founder of a charity called Jaisalmer in Jeopardy. "And you can't rebuild Jaisalmer." The seepage problem, plus violent monsoons in 1993 and a severe earthquake in 2001, caused the collapse of scores of historic buildings, including Jaisalmer's oldest palace, the Har-Raj-Ji-ka-Mahal.
Happily, the best places to stay in town are sensitive to the fort's distress. Forget the sprawling five-star chains on the outskirts and pick from a selection of small hotels tucked inside the battlements. The prettiest is the Killa Bhawan, tel: (91-2992) 251204, which comprises two converted town houses built right into the fort walls, with rooms decorated in vivid shades of crimson, lime and orange. Its three terraces command what might be Jaisalmer's finest sunset views, when the ancient bastions take on the color of pure honey and seem to melt into the desert backdrop. The staff will update you on the restoration efforts and you won't find anything as wasteful as a bathtub within their walls.
Despite the cleanup, Jaisalmer still retains a whiff of its human odor. And, if you want to do your bit to help preserve the ancient wonder, so should you. This is perhaps the one place in India where you should forgo your customary bathing routine. The roads might no longer be paved with excrement, but Jaisalmer's best hope of salvation lies in holding onto its medieval stink.