A RIFF of royalty
The Rajasthan International Folk Festival (RIFF) was a unique event that presented the best of folk music from all over the world, against the opulent backdrop of Jodhpur's grand forts and palaces, writes
Jodhpur, while a feted tourist destination, has always remained in the overbearing shadow of Jaipur, which comes with its own rose-tinted colour scheme and camels-dunes-forts montages ready for tourist consumption. But when I spent two days in Jodhpur at the Rajasthan International Folk Festival (RIFF), shuttling between historic forts and opulent palaces, between folk music traditions that date back hundreds of years and electronic music traditions that date back five years, and between shopping I didn't have to haggle for and meeting people from all over the world in a single room, I realised Jodhpur is second to none in the tourism roster.
Living in a palace for kings
Staying in one of the world's top hundred hotels is not for the faint-hearted. When I entered the curving driveway that led to the Taj Umaid Bhawan Palace's entrance, country mouse-like thoughts such as 'bigger than Buckingham Palace', 'did people actually live here?' and 'must take photos to show parents' began flashing through my mind. Umaid Bhawan is an art-deco sprawl that encapsulates beautiful suites, several gardens, and at least a couple of pools.
The structure is considered one of India's last great palaces. Located on Chittar Hill, the highest point of the city, it functions as a hotel, the residence of the royal family as well as a well-stocked museum which contains priceless China vases, weapons, and wall-mounted tiger heads.
Needless to say, I was completely out of my element. Turbaned men bowed as though pulled by invisible strings whenever I passed by, and personalised notes proclaimed that I was the most special guest they had ever had and they would treat me accordingly. The suite itself bore an uncanny resemblance to a Yash Chopra movie set. A bathtub that you could take laps in, four balconies, one with a view of a neatly-kept bougainvillea garden, and a bed that you could sink into and never be found again — it was beautiful, and I was giddy with it all. I wandered around dreamily and thrilled when I couldn't figure out how to get back to the bedroom.
It was in the hotel's amphitheatre that I met Yuri Honing, one of the world's most renowned saxophonists. The Dutch musician and his band performed with Rajasthani musicians at the RIFF, and would go on to perform in Delhi the next week. He has also named his new album The White Tiger, a reference to Arvind Adiga's novel.
Honing's album is a joy, right from the titles — homages as diverse as David Bowie and Bjork — to the jazz numbers which are as foot-tappingly addictive as they are technically brilliant. Honing recorded part of The White Tiger at Mumbai's Blue Frog studios, and he's enjoying his sojourn in Jodhpur. "I can't believe this hotel," he says in a confessional tone. "I can't seem to pull the band away from the outdoor pool."
Buried alive at the fort
Later in the evening, I left for the RIFF at Mehrangarh Fort. A section of the fort has been reshaped to form a creaky lift that rose several levels, and opened to a terrace which gives a 360 degree view of the city. Past this terrace, and after a walk through three pillared courtyards, we entered the main area of the festival. The stage is set in the corner of the courtyard, which is the size of several football fields. Surrounded on four sides by ornate walls, turrets and towers, and lit by a bright moon, it was an otherworldly experience.
The first performance I caught was of the Dharohar band, composed of UK beatboxer Jason Singh and a motley crew of Rajasthani musicians. Jumma Jogi, a descendant of the Jogi Mewar musicians, is perhaps the most interesting of the lot. His giggle-inducing couplets about NREGA, marital relations, funeral processions, and communal harmony aside, Jogi remains a paradox. He has performed at London's iTunes Festival, one of the first Indians to do so. He has also collaborated with international artists such as Laura Marling and Mumford and Sons. On the other hand, Jumma is poor, and because he cannot sustain himself on the fees of a musician, he is also a labourer, a rickshaw driver and a tractor driver in his native village. Jumma admits that petty politics have kept him from performing at state functions. "They want bribes. I may not have a lot of money, but I have my pride," he insists. Jumma says that he would forcibly keep his two children from following his path into music. "My father, who wanted me to study, was right. Music is a hobby, not a career. Nobody cares about music."
Eena Meena Deeka from San Francisco
After Dharohar, a few folk musicians take the stage solo. Despite my desperate desire to discover an unknown passion for Rajasthani folk music, I am quickly bored and peek enviously at the three-year-old girl snoozing between her rapt parents. I'm depressed at my own apathy for a dying art form, which I can't connect with unless it's adulterated with western collaborations.
The evening concludes with a performance by Rupa and the April Fishes. Rupa Marya, the 36-year-old headwoman of roma-punk band Rupa and the April Fishes, is easy to dismiss as a would-be American hippie. Before she begins her set, the wild-haired musician says that her group is from the 'sovereign nation of San Francisco', damns her nation for falling prey to a 'warmonger of a president' under Bush, and dedicates songs to Indian farmers who committed suicide. But she disproves my instant judgements with her ability to walk the talk. Marya also works as a physician and teacher at the University of California, San Francisco. She has spent days on the US-Mexico border interviewing a man who digs graves for Mexicans who die while attempting to cross the border illegally. "My mum was a brilliant musician," she says after the show, pointing to her proudly beaming mother. "She had an arranged marriage at the age of 19 and could never pursue her dreams."
Marya can also rock the talk: she is a vision of pure energy and vocal prowess onstage that startles the snoozing audience. The band's influences of street music, Latin grooves, and Romani soul take them someplace better than the usually insulated notions of 'world' music. Her set ends with a powerhouse rendition of Eena Meena Deeka which results in the audience dancing gleefully in front of the stage, and electronica musicians moshing energetically under the Jodhpur moon.
The Rajasthan International Folk Festival (RIFF) was a unique event that presented the best of folk music from all over the world, against the opulent backdrop of Jodhpur's grand forts and palaces, writes
 |
| April Fishes, Meghwal performing |
Jodhpur, while a feted tourist destination, has always remained in the overbearing shadow of Jaipur, which comes with its own rose-tinted colour scheme and camels-dunes-forts montages ready for tourist consumption. But when I spent two days in Jodhpur at the Rajasthan International Folk Festival (RIFF), shuttling between historic forts and opulent palaces, between folk music traditions that date back hundreds of years and electronic music traditions that date back five years, and between shopping I didn't have to haggle for and meeting people from all over the world in a single room, I realised Jodhpur is second to none in the tourism roster.
 |
| Rupa Marya, of the band Rupa |
Living in a palace for kings
Staying in one of the world's top hundred hotels is not for the faint-hearted. When I entered the curving driveway that led to the Taj Umaid Bhawan Palace's entrance, country mouse-like thoughts such as 'bigger than Buckingham Palace', 'did people actually live here?' and 'must take photos to show parents' began flashing through my mind. Umaid Bhawan is an art-deco sprawl that encapsulates beautiful suites, several gardens, and at least a couple of pools.
The structure is considered one of India's last great palaces. Located on Chittar Hill, the highest point of the city, it functions as a hotel, the residence of the royal family as well as a well-stocked museum which contains priceless China vases, weapons, and wall-mounted tiger heads.
Needless to say, I was completely out of my element. Turbaned men bowed as though pulled by invisible strings whenever I passed by, and personalised notes proclaimed that I was the most special guest they had ever had and they would treat me accordingly. The suite itself bore an uncanny resemblance to a Yash Chopra movie set. A bathtub that you could take laps in, four balconies, one with a view of a neatly-kept bougainvillea garden, and a bed that you could sink into and never be found again — it was beautiful, and I was giddy with it all. I wandered around dreamily and thrilled when I couldn't figure out how to get back to the bedroom.
It was in the hotel's amphitheatre that I met Yuri Honing, one of the world's most renowned saxophonists. The Dutch musician and his band performed with Rajasthani musicians at the RIFF, and would go on to perform in Delhi the next week. He has also named his new album The White Tiger, a reference to Arvind Adiga's novel.
 |
| one of the gates to Umaid Bhawan |
Honing's album is a joy, right from the titles — homages as diverse as David Bowie and Bjork — to the jazz numbers which are as foot-tappingly addictive as they are technically brilliant. Honing recorded part of The White Tiger at Mumbai's Blue Frog studios, and he's enjoying his sojourn in Jodhpur. "I can't believe this hotel," he says in a confessional tone. "I can't seem to pull the band away from the outdoor pool."
Buried alive at the fort
Later in the evening, I left for the RIFF at Mehrangarh Fort. A section of the fort has been reshaped to form a creaky lift that rose several levels, and opened to a terrace which gives a 360 degree view of the city. Past this terrace, and after a walk through three pillared courtyards, we entered the main area of the festival. The stage is set in the corner of the courtyard, which is the size of several football fields. Surrounded on four sides by ornate walls, turrets and towers, and lit by a bright moon, it was an otherworldly experience.
The first performance I caught was of the Dharohar band, composed of UK beatboxer Jason Singh and a motley crew of Rajasthani musicians. Jumma Jogi, a descendant of the Jogi Mewar musicians, is perhaps the most interesting of the lot. His giggle-inducing couplets about NREGA, marital relations, funeral processions, and communal harmony aside, Jogi remains a paradox. He has performed at London's iTunes Festival, one of the first Indians to do so. He has also collaborated with international artists such as Laura Marling and Mumford and Sons. On the other hand, Jumma is poor, and because he cannot sustain himself on the fees of a musician, he is also a labourer, a rickshaw driver and a tractor driver in his native village. Jumma admits that petty politics have kept him from performing at state functions. "They want bribes. I may not have a lot of money, but I have my pride," he insists. Jumma says that he would forcibly keep his two children from following his path into music. "My father, who wanted me to study, was right. Music is a hobby, not a career. Nobody cares about music."
Eena Meena Deeka from San Francisco
After Dharohar, a few folk musicians take the stage solo. Despite my desperate desire to discover an unknown passion for Rajasthani folk music, I am quickly bored and peek enviously at the three-year-old girl snoozing between her rapt parents. I'm depressed at my own apathy for a dying art form, which I can't connect with unless it's adulterated with western collaborations.
The evening concludes with a performance by Rupa and the April Fishes. Rupa Marya, the 36-year-old headwoman of roma-punk band Rupa and the April Fishes, is easy to dismiss as a would-be American hippie. Before she begins her set, the wild-haired musician says that her group is from the 'sovereign nation of San Francisco', damns her nation for falling prey to a 'warmonger of a president' under Bush, and dedicates songs to Indian farmers who committed suicide. But she disproves my instant judgements with her ability to walk the talk. Marya also works as a physician and teacher at the University of California, San Francisco. She has spent days on the US-Mexico border interviewing a man who digs graves for Mexicans who die while attempting to cross the border illegally. "My mum was a brilliant musician," she says after the show, pointing to her proudly beaming mother. "She had an arranged marriage at the age of 19 and could never pursue her dreams."
Marya can also rock the talk: she is a vision of pure energy and vocal prowess onstage that startles the snoozing audience. The band's influences of street music, Latin grooves, and Romani soul take them someplace better than the usually insulated notions of 'world' music. Her set ends with a powerhouse rendition of Eena Meena Deeka which results in the audience dancing gleefully in front of the stage, and electronica musicians moshing energetically under the Jodhpur moon.
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