A desolate land stretches beyond the level our sight reaches. The land lies barren and lifeless and the only appearance of life are the small bushes of dead grass which has gone through the different phases of time and temperature. Here, the nature was at its cruel side. As we passed through Jaisalmer on our way to Jodhpur, I noticed that the defiant land is dotted with numerous windmills.
As my friend is still asleep on his seat beside, I have nothing to do except for observing these windmills and listening to the Bollywood songs of the 90s, which is being played in the bus we have boarded.
As my friend is still asleep on his seat beside, I have nothing to do except for observing these windmills and listening to the Bollywood songs of the 90s, which is being played in the bus we have boarded.
As the bus stops at a railway crossing, my thoughts wander to the Rajasthani music, which feels much soothing to my ears. I had once heard a Rajasthani folk song from a musician on the streets, who was singing a melodious song while playing an instrument called ‘Ravanhattha’. Rajasthani folk singers are found at every corner of Rajasthan, from Jaipur to Udaipur, at the entrance of every fort and museum. Rajasthan, which is also known as the land of palaces has lot to offer in the field of music.
As I was going through my fond memories of the street musician and his song, the bus suddenly stops at a village, from where the local women of the area board the bus. The local women are wearing bangles all over their arms along with colorful dresses and ornaments. A group of army men enter the bus after the local women. As it is that the border with Pakistan is nearby. The bus starts and with another song from the collection of 90s Bollywood songs starts to play.
Averting the music being played in the bus, I go back to my fond memories of a concert in the Mehrangarh fort of Jodhpur. Here, I had witnessed classical and folk to make the evening into an entertaining one. A group of gifted musicians with Nawab Khan on Santoor was joined by another talented group, of the Langas, with their Sarangis and Khartals. As the program progressed, the crowd got lost into the melodious performance by Nawab Khan on the Santoor. Later on, the program turned into a more interesting and melodious one, when the Langas joined Nawab Khan on the stage. The vocal quality of Langas gave a rustic touch to the music accompanied by their Khartals. A Sindhi Sarangi played behind, adding serenity to the setting sun of the day. Later on in the program, the other Khan Sahib who was playing Sarangi, revealed that the instrument was his grandfather’s. Such is the power of music which lives beyond the mortals.
As I was considering the unique blend of Urdu and Rajasthani performance in that evening, I notice that the land outside my window is turning green. Soon, the bus again stops at Pokharan. of remember those songs with a mix of Urdu and Rajasthani thrown in, I see the land outside my window turning greener, the grass replaced by shrubs, the dunes with the first sights of leveled lands. And soon, the bus halts at Pokharan. Over here, some of the passengers of the bus along with the army men and followed by our group get down to this place to have some tea and breakfast.
After finishing our tea and breakfast, we board the bus with the next stoppage being Jodhpur, which is also our final destination. My decision to come for this trip was mainly to attend the World Sufi Music Festival. My only aim at this festival was to listen to the Sufi singers from across India. But after listening to the Langas and learning about the different communities of Jaisalmer at the festival, I regret my earlier decision. The Manganiyars are musicians belonging to the villages around Jaisalmer and Barmer. They represent a centuries old tradition of music, since the time when Sunni Muslims, would sing for their Hindu patrons. They continue to sing till this date in several parts of Rajasthan and they are not very hard with an old Kamaycha in their hands singing ‘Moomal’.
For now, the scene outside my window turns even livelier with few cranes flying over the area. The area is near Khichan and every year this place witnesses the migration of Demoiselle cranes during this time of the year. By this time the music in the bus which was tormenting me for so long has also stopped and soon we will be reaching Jodhpur. Very soon I will be heading back towards my home with so many fund memories of the desert music and the peace that it offers to the soul and mind. Let’s hope that next time when you come to this place, you will not just be admiring the palaces of Rajasthan but also lend an ear to the different stories that the Rajasthani folk songs have to tell in their own melodious way.
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