Every year, Mehrangarh Fort comes alive with folk music from across the world. Anjuli Bhargava soaks in the lilting melodies of Jodhpur RIFF.
It's just after midnight.
You could be forgiven for thinking that 300-odd people had taken leave of their senses on a not-so-cool October night as they make their way through a broken, dusty path to reach the Rao Jodha Park just outside the Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur in almost pitch darkness.
The path is rocky, uneven and barely visible.
But there is nonetheless a steady stream making their determined way.
Once you reach the site, you hear a collective intake of breath at the magnificence of the location. With the stunning fort as the backdrop, bathed in soft moonlight (the festival is timed to coincide with Sharad Poornima, the brightest full moon of the year), its ramparts lit, stark and massive, you can for a minute believe you are back in the 17th century when the fort was at its prime.
Mehrangarh Fort, which was originally built during the rule of Rao Jodha (founder of Jodhpur) in 1459, is now meticulously managed by a trust and is a beautiful example of how forts in the country can be scrupulously maintained if someone just puts his or her mind to it.
A small group of dark-skinned men in red turbans on a low takhat are rendering what I subsequently learn is Rajasthani Sufi music accompanied by various instruments, most of which are unique to the state (khartal, morchang, derun, algoza, among others) but by now are familiar territory for veterans of The Rajasthan International Folk Festival, popular as Jodhpur RIFF.
Three groups of performers -- Darra Khan, Shakur Khan and Kachra Khan Manganiyar (all with party) - hold the audience, which had begun to thin out as the clock touched 2.30 am, enthralled with their lilting songs and melodies.
What strikes me is how this is quite unlike the Sufi music one is accustomed to in Delhi, Hyderabad and other parts of India.
I don't know what the Sufi saints would have to say about this but there is hardly any mention of Amir Khusro, Bulleh Shah or Khwaja Salim Chisti otherwise incessantly revered and praised in song by almost all the great exponents of Sufi. Neither is there a touch of qawwali that one usually expects. Rajasthan has its own rustic brand of Sufi -- less showy, perhaps more intense in its use of poetry and as easy on the ear.
The vocals seem effortless, though powerful.
The rich instruments (part of the derun is made from the intestines of a goat) lend perfect rhythm and beat to the singing.
I see people around me clicking their fingers in consonance even though the lyrics are alien to most.
To my mind, the highlight of RIFF this year was the afternoon interactive sessions -- the audience can chat with the performers and try its hand at the instruments -- which have, in fact like wine, improved with age.
The beauty of the interactive sessions is as much in the venue (the stunning Chokelao Bagh filled with the season's flowers in bloom) as in the intimacy it offers.
These sessions end up filtering the committed music lovers from the rest, simply by being around noon, when only the die-hard will brave Jodhpur's blazing afternoon sun to sit under a large eye-catching tent, praying silently for a whiff of breeze.
The best interactive session this year was the percussion players of Rajasthan who can make you break into a dance with their boundless energy, seductive beats and mischievous movements even in the midst of a sombre gathering.
If you thought swaying hips, lurching waists and suggestive eyes were the exclusive preserve of women, think again. Men in Rajasthan can give any woman a run for her money.
Nagada, Chang (my personal favourite), the derun players, the Manganiyars with their powerful dhol and the legendary bhapang player and singer Juma Khan - and suddenly the two-hour session seems much too short. Once hooked, percussion in Rajasthan alone can keep you entranced for a week.
The main stage events -- as every year, a big draw as they lend an international flavour to the festival - had an eclectic mix of blues from Yemen, soul from Africa and Scotland's foremost drummer James Mackintosh at the Old Zenana courtyard, again in a lovely setting.
But herein lies the rub. With the festival gaining popularity, the main stage events are attracting crowds like bees to honey and it is becoming hard to sift the music lovers from the party-seekers. If the sanctity and mood isn't preserved, India's foremost folk music festival may just end up taking a beating it little deserves.
Image: The Manganiyars of Marwar at the Old Zenana Courtyard
