Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Memoir - Rajasthan I

I went till the remotest corner of the world; I went as far as I could go without falling off the cliff; far off from the mainland India, in an unknown desert hamlet called Khuri, Rajasthan happened to me, in the last month of last year. The January wish - Happy New Year - finally got realized in December.

And how!

Picture this - I walk alone, in the earliest of mornings, towards the dunes that glow in anticipation of their sun, and suddenly I see peacocks, many of them, walking around, and flying above. There is no other sight that could match the majesty of that sight. It was dreamy, that scene, that time, that place, and everything about it. I walk further, and I see herd of antlers towards my right. That sight was beautiful, this sight was awesome. I took my camera out, and put it back in no time. You can either feel or record, and blessings are not to be recorded.

On top of the dunes, with sun rising in background, I had had a cup of tea, and a plate of Maggi, which tasted like defeat, for Maggi was not to be eaten like that.

Last night, we had planned to carry out a madness - to cook Maggi on the dunes, and eat it out in the open, under the thousand twinkling stars of the rural sky. In the midnight, we set out to make that night unforgettable, and we did make that night unforgettable, not once but twice, both unsuccessfully. I had never imagined that I would see mirage in pitch-dark midnight. We just couldn't find the dunes!

Hours before, we were there, right on the top of the dunes, dancing to the tunes of a gypsy boy, who conjured up music, nay magic, out of nothing but four flat pieces of wood. Can I ever forget that? The setting sun, the gilded land, the camel shadows, the bright red-yellow turban, the charming smile, the tuk-tuk melody, the rhythm, the steps, the hoots, the laughter... oh I must have been drunk.

But Rajasthan is much more than sand and dunes. If I realized one thing, it was this. Rajasthan after a visit emerges as a very different, and much greener, landscape.

Bikaner, where we started from, is a bhujia bazaar. Junagarh Fort is good, may be great, but other forts have been sold out to those who run hotels. 

Have I said this before - that Bikaner is bhujia bazaar? That's what Bikaner is. Period. And yes, they don't serve Rajasthani in their restaurants. They serve chinese and pizzas and even south Indian, but not Rajasthani. If you want to try Rajasthani cuisine, better go to Jodhpur. 

Jodhpur, for me, means Nai Sadak, which is an interesting place for foodies and shoppers. I would not mind another visit there. The other attraction - Mehrangarh Fort - is awesome. 

But nowhere close to Jaisalmer Fort - which is a civilization bubbling inside a boundary. Yes, there are pests too, like Tibetan refugees, who sell "Free Tibet" T-shirts to white women, and expect them to fight for their freedom, but I will talk about these parasites later. Despite them, and pestering locals posing as guides, this fort is a place without parallel. Unlike all other forts that I've seen, this fort lives in present. It does have a past, but it's not a museum.

Jaisalmer sees itself as a desert town, with locals poaching tourists for Sam cottages and Camel Safari etc. But to me, Jaisalmer would mean Jaisalmer Fort, since you can find dunes elsewhere, but there is no place like Jaisalmer Fort anywhere else.

I can not explain why. Perhaps because of our experience - the folk singer we bumped into, as soon as we stepped out of some palace, which was good but monotonous. If music can move you, he would move you, nay stun you, freeze you, and hold you in trance. You can hardly move unless he allows you to, with a grand-fatherly smile on his royally wrinkled visage. In my mind, all hyperbole is taken care of by his "Padharo Mhare Des" alone. 




The topic of music takes me to that night in Osiyaan, where we spent the 31st, the last day of last year. This place is a resort. The folk music program had started and most of the guests had gathered at the venue. Far from there, I was sitting outside my cottage, laid back on a chair, gazing at the moon, reflecting on the moment claimed by both memories and hopes, sipping tea, and soaking the faint music.

The last memory of Rajasthan has to be the "Happy New Year" moment, when I did what I always thought I couldn't do - dance. I danced, and I danced well, meaning I enjoyed. The new year began with a new experience, and it continued for the whole day, since I did another unlikely thing - I went to the Dargah of Nizamuddin Auliya in Ajmer. Perhaps Jan 1st was prophetic; who knows?