I am indebted to Rajtourism.com for at last being able to find out what this instrument is called: "The Rawanhathha of the Thori or Nayak Bhopas is probably the earliest instrument played with a bow, and this humble instrument could well be the precursor of the violin. It has two main strings and a variable number of supporting strings, with a belly of half coconut shell and a body of bamboo. The bow has ghungroos (bells) attached to it. The music is staccato and accompained by the syncopated singing of the Bhopa and the Bhopan."
Anyway the accoustics near to the gate of the Fort were great and the music he made resonated there. He was regular one man band on the Rawanhathha as the recording demonstrates. I made a second recording at the Fort Gate after Hari had fixed the bells back onto his bow. It is very similar to the first tune and displays all the man's skills. Listening to the recording now as I type I am still impressed.
The notes tend to indicate that I didn't actually do very much that day. It is very hard to think back but Grace had been with me when the recording was made and I dare say Imogen and Mandy were there too. It simply says "Shirting - Tailors - Chilling" and, on the next line, "Hari Hut - thing!".
This was a reference Hari's having invited Grace and I to visit his home. He was very insistent and having recorded his music we couldn't very well refuse. Hari's house was not really a house and although the notes say "Hut - thing!" it wasn't a hut either. That's probably what the exclamation mark signified.
What it was was a small area of the ground occupied by Hari and his wife and their small children (one pictured above). The boundaries of their patch of ground were delineated with nothing more substantial than twigs. Hari was very pleased that we came to visit. I'm sure that if his wife had known we were coming she would have baked a cake except that there was no oven, or kitchen, or anything at all. It makes you humble. They didn't seem to have anything except a patch of ground, the clothes they were wearing (Hari's wife's outfit is nonetheless splendid - a little overdressed for her surroundings perhaps) and Hari's magical musical instrument, the Rawanhathha.
They didn't bake us a cake but they did sing us a song (and the little child interjected with the odd squeal). On it's conclusion Hari pronounced what it was which was "Very nice Rajasthani song!" I suppose that Hari was the Bhopa and his wife the Bhopan but it could have been the other way round.
Despite the poverty of their surroundings Hari and his wife were, however, "making progress". This phrase in India meant they were having babies. In fact Hari's wife, aged 17, had already had two. The rate at which India was "making progress" was impressive. I refer you back to the electronic counter in Delhi ticking up towards 1,000,000,000.
The next note says "Hotel Trio - Music" and below that "Mandy sick". My Aiwa Recording Walkman was coming into its own and we enjoyed a good meal watching the while-u-eat cabaret featuring dancing, singing and a puppet show. The microphone was attached to the table cloth and I recorded five songs although the last recorded song ends abruptly because the tape ran out.
As I type I am recording the sounds into the Mac from my ancient tape deck, older even than the recordings themselves, using CD Spin Doctor and will preserve them for ever or at least until the disk gets corrupted. If I can I will add them to this blog posting.
The restaurant of the Hotel Trio was, if I remember it right, on the roof and exposed to sounds from the street below. Occasionally you can hear the odd two-wheeler (scooter) going past.
I thought I would check out references to the Trio on the web and there is a Frommer's review on the New York Times' website. It goes on about dishes with strips of boneless chicken but I don't remember meat being on the menu. Perhaps it was and perhaps that was why Mandy got sick. Apart from when I was in Kashmir I did stick to the vegetarian diet enjoyed by the vast majority of Indians.
The Frommer's review quoted by the New York Times says: "This unassuming eatery, with its open walls and thin cotton flaps providing a welcome through-breeze (not to mention views of the town and the Maharaja's palace), is Jaisalmer's top restaurant and one of the best in Rajasthan". It was dark when I went there so I don't remember much about any view. The review was published sometime in 2008 or shortly before but even then the cost of a meal is stated to be between only 75p and £2.25. That's pretty cheap and you can bet that it was a darn sight cheaper in 1990 (or else we wouldn't have gone there).
The Lonely Planet review says: "This upmarket Indian and Continental restaurant with a romantic setting under a tented roof is still the pick of Jaisalmer. There's reliably good veg and nonveg dishes, musicians play in the evening and there's a great fort view. Flies don't mind it either." So my memory is not playing tricks, it was indeed a rooftop restaurant. I didn't notice any flies but it was night time and perhaps that's why.
Mandy, who was Grace's friend who was either also from Guernsey or somewhere on the South Coast, did get sick later. She was homesick and lovesick too. She missed her "fella" as she called him. I think getting sick at the Hotel Trio restaurant was one of the things that convinced her that she should cut her trip short and go home.
At some stage during the day we must have booked our Camel Safari and I'm pretty sure that Mandy had decided that she didn't want to come. On the one hand it is a shame to trek all the way out the extreme West of Northern India, just the Thar desert between you and Pakistan and then not go out into the desert itself. On the other hand, I think it was handy because she stayed behind and must have looked after our clobber while we were out there.
