My Memories of Jaisalmer Fort 🌟By KK
I was born and raised inside the majestic Sonar Killa (Jaisalmer Fort) — a place that wasn’t just my home, but a world in itself. I lived there until the age of 30. Within those golden sandstone walls, I built my life, my business, and created memories that still shine brightly in my heart.
My childhood in the fort was full of adventure and mischief. We never thought twice before climbing the fort walls, running across narrow parapets, or playing on the high temple roofs. Looking back now, I shudder to think of the dangers — but back then, it was pure thrill. I remember once falling from a temple roof near Dushehra Chowk, injuring myself badly. There were no motor vehicles around then, so I was taken to the hospital on a bicycle — our version of an ambulance. At that moment, I felt like a VIP in a “bicycle ambulance”!
I studied inside the fort until the 8th standard. Our first school building is now Hotel Paradise, and the second is Hotel Suraj. Life inside the fort was tough, but it was full of excitement. We played cricket in the narrow lanes, sometimes hitting balls into neighbors’ homes — which would spark little “wars” as they tried to stop our games! But that was just part of growing up.
We lived in one of the quieter lanes of the fort. Some houses around us looked like haunted ruins, giving us chills at night. But from our rooftops, we could see everything — the temples, the cannons, the palace, and beyond. Today, tourists admire these sights. For us, it was everyday life.
The common toilets were along the fort walls — separate for men and women — but there were no written signs. Everyone just knew. During the monsoon, the rainwater poured off the big temple roofs and palace terraces, creating mini waterfalls. We kids would rush into them, laughing and shouting with joy.
Our home had a big balcony and rooms plastered with mud, topped by wooden ceilings — cool in summer, warm in winter. We had no fans or coolers, but the real joy was sleeping on the roof under the stars. It felt like being on the 4th floor, far above the town, in complete silence, with only the sky as our blanket. That sleep — so peaceful, so pure — no city in the world can offer.
There were no mobile phones, no TVs, but our lives were full — full of laughter, friendship, and connection. We didn’t have much, but we always smiled. Fashion didn’t matter. My father handled all the family finances. We children lived without care, simply and freely.
Every festival was celebrated with full spirit — especially Holi, which began 10 days early with color, fun, and friendly games. There was no divide between rich and poor. Wedding invitations meant great food and shared joy. The whole fort felt like one big family. Every elder was Bhau (BROTHER), Chacha (UNCLE), or Dada (GRANDFATHER).
After school, our time belonged to our friends. In the evenings, we gathered around our grandparents, listening to old stories — tales still alive in my heart, that helped shape who I am today.
Birthdays were different then — no cake cutting. Just sweets made lovingly by our mother. Back then, we didn’t realize the value of where we lived. But as tourists started arriving to see the fort, the Jain temples, and the palaces, we understood — we were living in history itself, in a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Even now, when I close my eyes and remember, I feel grateful.
A beautiful life… lived in a beautiful place.
A treasure I’ll carry forever.