Magnificent Monuments, A Historic Clock Tower And Plenty Of Music In Jodhpur’s Air

Jodhpur Diary

Anxious about getting waylaid by traffic jams, I headed to Old Delhi station way before time to catch the night train to Jodhpur. Old Delhi station was abuzz as always. Crowds jostling at the gates; passengers teeming at the baggage-screening counter; trains trundling past, some on time, some late enough to make people shed rivers of tears. I found an empty bench—a miracle of sorts—to park myself. Two extremely tall people; a man and a woman dressed in black carrying backpacks filled to bursting, loomed in front of me.

“We sit here?” the woman asked politely.

I nodded. They told me they were from Serbia. The two were off to Jodhpur to catch the same international roots music festival I was headed to—Jodhpur RIFF, which is held at the magnificent Mehrangarh Fort to coincide with sharad poornima (autumn full moon). The Serbians were seasoned travellers. They had backpacked across Southeast Asia; visited Cairo (which can get a little crazy, the man said); and spent time in Uganda. This was their first Delhi visit. They’d read Rana Dasgupta’s Capital in preparation—an excellent chronicle of Delhi’s manic post-liberalisation expansion. Serbia was being rocked by massive student protests, they said. They knew Delhi was experiencing similar tremors, too.

We parted ways when the train rolled in, hoping we’d bump into each other at the fest and chat some more about music and mayhem.

Music in the Air

Mehrangarh Fort, built by the founder of Jodhpur, Rao Jodha, lords over the landscape. The 15th-century landmark is perched 400 feet above the skyline. From its top, you see rows of blue houses in the old city glinting in the sun. The sky stretches without end overhead. Jodhpur’s history—sagas of conquests and defeats, capture and liberation—is etched on these walls and stairways and latticed windows.

The fort is the venue of two major music fests—Jodhpur RIFF and the Sacred Spirit Festival. The first showcases roots-music artists from India and from countries across the world, and the second, held in February, is a platform for spiritual music, including Sufi music. Visi­tors pour in for both. At Jodhpur RIFF, I ran into some people who had attended the Sacred Spirit Festival. Wowed by the setting, they had decided to come back to the city for RIFF. “Life without music is impossible,” said Sarika who works at an information-technology firm in Bangalore. This was her first time at RIFF, but she was already making plans to attend next year. Bengaluru, Mumbai, Gurgaon; Japan, Germany, Serbia, the United Kingdom, United States—the sounds of RIFF have drawn people from different corners of the globe to Jodhpur. Many of them had attended the fest at least once before.

Iranian composer and musician Saeed Kamjoo, who had always wanted to visit India, was ecstatic about being at RIFF. A particip­ating artist this year, Kamjoo grew up listening to Indian musicians like Zakir Hussain and Ravi Shankar. In Montreal, where he now lives, he often jams with Indian artists. “India has such a rich musical tradition,” he said, as the strains of folk music filled the air. “I’m also a big fan of Satyajit Ray,” he beamed. “I feel Ray has inspired many Iranian filmmakers, including the great Abbas Kiarostami.”

History’s Sentinel

A short drive away from the festival venue is another memorable Jodhpur landmark: ghanta ghar (clock tower). Built between 1880 and 1911 by Maharaja Sardar Singh, the tower was meant to mark the beginning of old Jodhpur. At the top of the beautifully built three-storey structure ticks a British-style clock, which still keeps time, thanks to a caretaker whose family has been doing the job for generations. The area around the tower became a favourite gathering place for local residents and over time, Sardar Market sprung up here. This bustling hub is filled with shops selling jewellery, textiles, spices, handicrafts and a mouthwatering array of Jodhpur delicacies such as shahi samosa, kachori, imarti, mirchi vada, makhaniya lassi and ghevar.

As I bit into a freshly made imarti, women dressed in crimson, burnt orange, golden yellow and rani pink sarees walked by. Men sporting colourful Jodhpuri safas (turbans) were everywhere. A street musician seated under a tree close to the clock tower played his ravanhatta. His plaintive tune soared to the sky like a bittersweet note from the past.

Vineetha Mokkil is Senior Associate Editor, Outlook