A date with destiny

Tag : Magic Slippers

THE first time I ever laid eyes on an image of Fort Jaisalmer, itmade an indelible impression on me: Rajasthan's desert citadel rosedramatically from its arid surroundings like the demon lordRavana's armoured fist.
Wouldn't it be wonderful, I thought, to have been born in that era,in 12th century India, when people seemed to be able to weave atapestry of dreams into their lives?
I never dreamed that my secret fantasy of performing in the GoldenCity of Jaisalmer could possibly become reality.
But, propelled perhaps by this inexplicably fervent desire, eventsseemed to collude to fulfil this wish of mine, and late last year,I find myself in India's largest state preparing the Sutra DanceTheatre dancers for the stage.
No less than the Maharana of Udaipur city, Shriji Arvind SinghMewar, had invited us to perform there. First on his birthday thatis celebrated in Udaipur, and, subsequently, at the Gorbandh Palacein Fort Jaisalmer itself.
My dream to be a little dot in the rich tapestry of Fort Jaisalmeris coming true....
Through a nuclear playground
The bus trip from the city of Bikaner to Jaisalmer, however,leavens the fantasy with harsh reality. The barreness of the greatThar desert drives home the point that life here is no bed ofroses.
Passing through Pokhran, we see row upon row of sleek, modernwindmills, and I naively wonder why they're there.
My question is answered when I notice the increasing militaryactivity; several convoys of border security forces pass us on theroad. In the distance, we can discern makeshift garrisons; theyharbour armoured cars, tanks, and missile warheads, all ready foruse in training or a real war against traditional foe, Pakistan, weare told.
The Pokhran region, after all, has the dubious honour of beingIndia's first nuclear test site: On May 18, 1974, theironically-named Smiling Buddha project culminated in India's firstnuclear test. Then, in May 1998, India again quickened the nuclearrace: five devices were detonated, exacerbating India's politicalrift with Pakistan. The controversial tests resulted in US-ledinternational sanctions against India, and Pakistan countering withher own nuclear tests.
The romantic desert dream was shattered and people stopped comingto Jaisalmer altogether for a long, lonely time.
Strife is not foreign to this part of India. Once upon a time,Jaisalmer was an important meeting point in the ancient overlandspice and silk caravan trade route through Asia. Both plunder andtrade provided wealth for the princely Rajput desert fiefdoms thatincluded Jaisalmer.
From their strategic positions, rapacious rajas raided and taxedrichly laden camel caravans. They filled their coffers and builtmagnificent palaces and forts such as Jaisalmer. Rich merchantsbuilt lavish havelis (mansions) as the region also became a meltingpot of trade.
When the Suez Canal was opened in Egypt in 1869, it halved thepreviously dangerous and laborious overland Europe-Asia tradejourneys. That, of course, put paid to the caravans and,consequently, Jaisalmer, along with many other desert cities, lostits lustre.
Now, it is tourism and the army - strange bedfellows, indeed! -that are providing an economic boost to this region.
By late evening that day, we reach Gorbandh Palace in Jaisalmercity.
Made of the yellow sandstone that typifies buildings in thisregion, the palace is lavish by any standards. We are certainlypleased with the space in which we are to perform. SivarajahNatarajan, Sutra Dance Theatre's technical director, immediatelysets to work, overseeing the setting up of the lighting and soundsystems.
The dancers, being true troupers, get to work, too, mapping outplaces, exits, and entrances on stage even before they freshen upafter our wearying 10-hour bus ride from Bikaner.
We have, in fact, clocked over 400km from Udaipur to Jaipur, 350kmfrom Jaipur to Bikaner, and, now, 350km from Bikaner to Jaisalmer.
As for our event the next day, it transpired just as previousperformances had: we survive an outdoor venue in freezing winterweather and score a tremendous success.
Having performed Spellbound, our Odissi production, in many venuesthroughout India, we are now confident of its effect on theaudience. But it's still nice to hear the by-now oft heardcompliment again: "We never imagined that a Malaysian troupecould perform Odissi so well!"
At dinner that night, we plan our "assault" on the fablednine-century-old Fort Jaisalmer that rises from the city's centre.
Amazing maze
Built in 1156, the fort still shelters and accommodates thousandsof inhabitants today. It is one of the world's few forts to havebeen lived in continuously for centuries.
Alighting from our bus at the main entrance, we walk up sinuous,cobbled ramparts to reach the Surya and Ganesh gates. These narrowstreets are designed to prevent a head-on assault of the innergates by enemy soldiers riding elephants crazed on bhang(cannabis). The intoxicated and maddened beasts would ram themassive doors to knock them down - if they could get at them insufficient numbers. Thanks to these narrow streets, though, theycouldn't, and Fort Jaisalmer withstood many sieges over thecenturies.
As we walk the fort's maze of cobbled lanes just wide enough forpedestrians and perhaps a cow or two to pass each other twoabreast, we encounter many a grand haveli with beautiful latticework facades. The intricately carved stonework looks like ethereallace rather than heavy stone.
The mansions generally all have relatively plain ground floors andexquisitely carved and decorated first floors and zenana (women'squarters) that overhang the streets.
Passing through an unassuming alley, we come upon one of the fort'sbiggest tourist draws: the magnificent Jain temple. It offers us anencounter with sculptures of gods, goddesses, and celestial dancersin the most imaginatively distorted and dynamic positions. Theflamboyant figures are in stark contrast to the calm stillness ofthe Jain tirthankaras (enlightened human beings who were teachersof those seeking spiritual guidance).
Beyond the fort's walls, the practically untouched city's ancientambience is enhanced by vendors selling colourful crafts rangingfrom toys, patchwork bedspreads and tapestries, to brassware andRajput paintings.
Touts abound, and vendors accost us boldly from their stalls."Let us help you spend your money!" one unashamedlydeclares. "Live for the moment!" another philosophicallyadvises us as he tries to get us to buy impulsively. The Sutragirls gleefully share tales of their bargaining prowess only to bedeflated at the next corner when they find that, once again,they've been had!
Over tea, we have a fascinating conversation with a man whoexplains the significance of the traditional Rajput turban, whichis tied in different ways by men of different castes.
The man, immaculately dressed in traditional attire, turns out tobe a minor Rajput prince. The "bling" in his piercedears, rather than looking affected as it might have on hisfashion-conscious suburban counterpart, exquisitely enhances themystique of his Rajput allure, making this prince look decidedlyauthentic and macho!
Spiritual sunset
Our bus driver urges us to hurry back to the bus so we won't missthe sunset out in the desert. Driving at breakneck speed, the busarrives at a nearby camel village. After the usual haggling, wefind ourselves unceremoniously jolted up to sit in between thecamels' humps, and are soon trotting hurriedly off on our firstever camel ride.
The girls scream with every bumpy step - more from pain rather thandelight. A camel ride can be difficult for the novice but it's afascinating experience, nevertheless - and our camel drivergallantly retrieves all the dropped slippers and scarves.
We reach a slightly elevated area, and dismount awkwardly to sitwith others who have come for the same purpose.
The setting sun is a great red round mass against a mauve-orangebackdrop. It's a minimalist desert painting whose hues seem tochange ever so slowly as the sun disappears into the horizon.
I wonder if any of our girls, fazed by the brief but intense camelride, relate the setting sun to our own dance of Aditya Acharna,the homage to Surya (sun), which has become our signature piece inour performances in Rajasthan.
Meditating on this amazing view before us, I'm reminded of thisbarren landscape's myth of origin, as told in the ancient Indianepic, Ramayana:
Rama, it is said, was angered by Varuna, king of the ocean waters,because the king refuses to build a bridge to Lanka to save Rama'sbeloved wife, Sita (her abduction by Ravana, the demon king ofLanka Island, is central to Ramayana's narrative).
To teach Varuna a lesson, Rama aims his magic arrow towards thesea. Fortunately, Varuna relents at the last minute, and theincendiary arrow is deflected, only to land in this part ofRajasthan, laying it to waste.
Not surprisingly, the Bhatti House that founded Jaisalmer claimslineage from Krishna (of Chandravamshi or the Line of the Moon)rather than Rama (Suryavamshi or the Line of the Sun), whosedevastating arrow causes the land to turn barren!
The next day we head to the city of Jodhpur, passing once againthrough Pokhran. Along the way, and at the behest of our trusty busdriver, we stop briefly in a desolate temple. The mandir (temple)had been built to honour Baba Ramdev, a local avatar of Rama.
Ramdev the saint lived in the Middle Ages and was quite unlikeother battle-hungry princes. He was a champion of the poor and waseven opposed to the entrenched caste of untouchables. He wasdeified together with his trusty steed. The cult of Ram Devcommands a considerable secular following of both Hindu and Muslimdevotees.
We sit with our bus driver for a few minutes, listening to feistybhajans (devotional songs ) offered up in Ram Dev's memory. As thedrumming spirals to a crescendo, I still hear unresolved voicesover that of the saint who, even centuries ago, had envisioned asociety that could free us from suffering of our own making.
Momentarily, however, a stillness takes hold of me. In the aridRajasthan desertscape, I feel like a grain of sand, blown here andthere, but still somehow able to fulfill my fantasy of being a dotin the epic tapestry of this ancient land.