The ancient sea port of Mandvi sits on the western coast of Gujarat. To the north-east stretches the great Rann of Kutch, a magnificent, desolate, salt-encrusted desert that covers thousands of square miles. To the west, the sheltered waters of the Gulf of Kutch spill into the Arabian Sea.

The natural harbour at Mandvi, on the lip of the broad mouth of the Rukmavati River, gave rise to what was once the largest port in Gujarat and a thriving bazaar town. It was the nexus of trade between the maritime spice routes and the inland caravan routes of the Kutch.

The docks bustled with ships being loaded and unloaded, serviced and repaired. And lining the creek were the shipyards for which the city was famed. These were a hive of activity as all-wooden sailing ships known locally as vahan or buggalows took shape under the skilfully wielded mallets and chisels of hundreds of artisans from the Hindu Kharva caste. Here, with only the most basic tools to aid them, the Mandvi shipwrights of old created robust, oceangoing vessels that braved the hazards of long ocean voyages and made the fortunes of their masters.

The city was also home to a small but thriving Bohra community. Traditionally a trading people, many of the Bohras of Mandvi were merchants of one sort or another. Some owned their own vahan. Local people say the seafarer-merchants of Mandvi once owned a fleet of some four hundred vessels, which created a network of trade between the ports of the Western Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea. The ships sailed out from the Port of Mandvi, bound for the Malabar Coast, the Maldive Islands, the Arabian Ports of Aden and Muscat, and the East African Ports of Mogadishu, Zanzibar and Malindi, with cargoes of sugar, oil, cotton cloth and alum. And when the trade winds turned, the fleet returned from these far-flung ports with their holds laden with dates and grain, cloves, cardamom and pepper, salted fish, rhinoceros hides, ivory and silk.

In May each year, there was an air of restiveness in the city, as the merchants waited anxiously for their ships - literally - to come in. Every morning, they say, the men climbed to the top of a lofty tower, close to the lighthouse, to scan the horizon. The tower was called the 'Tower of Wagers,' because there, extravagant bets were placed on whose ship would be sighted first.