Conversations, And Backdrops in Jodhpur

Walking down Jodhpur’s M. G. H Road in the heat of the September Sun, a middle-aged man broke his stride upon receiving a call on his phone.

It soon became apparent that it was not a call to be answered hurriedly, and certainly not one to carry on with while dodging passers-by on the street. The call called for a more pleasant setting, some shade, and a place to recline and answer in leisure, making me wonder who was on the other line.

There was little chance I would ever find out but it didn’t stop me from wondering about likely possibilities, and they certainly weren’t mundane possibilities. Wandering does that to imagination.

Looking around for a place more appropriate to the occasion, the man soon found respite from the searing Sun on the steps of an old stone building, leaning against a stone pillar as he stretched himself out on the steps.



Rust had eaten away the letters on the metal nameplate that I had initially mistaken for wood. However, adjacent to the nameplate, letters stenciled in black ink on the wooden door survived to indicate the nature of the establishment: Bharat Tent House.

I cannot remember clearly if Bharat Tent House was housed in the Sanghi Das building, or if it was in an adjacent building. It shared the open area in the front with other commercial properties, including a TV Repair shop.

By now the man was deep in conversation, occasionally smiling as he threw his head back against the floral designs carved in the stone pillar and looked around absently, his mobile phone held firmly to his ear. It was inevitable I would linger around, eyes trailing along the contours of his backdrop, pausing every inch of the way along the façade etched with decorative patterns on pilasters projecting from the wall, lending the door on either side ample relief.

The pilasters ended in fine stone corbels on which rested the entablature projecting from the wall, over the fading blue door. I couldn’t tell for sure if the carved corbels projecting from the wall were merely decorative elements or actually bore the load of the entablature over the door.

The weather beaten door was locked, its blue reminding of the sky in a city that sits at the gatepost of the Thar desert. It was a magical moment, a Jodhpur moment, no less.

And I wondered again, this time around not of who might be on the other line but if his conversation was as interesting as his backdrop.

Fire and Sweet in the Heat of Jodhpur Street

It gets hot at noon in Jodhpur. Very hot. And the middle-aged man manning the makeshift table set up in the street outside Janata Sweet Home, dispensing water out of plastic mugs to the thirsty passers-by served to remind us of the heat after the momentary amnesia from sampling Makhaniya Lassi inside what is easily among Jodhpur's best known shop for sweets and savouries.

We had walked through Saddar Bazaar, home to the clock tower, before time came to a standstill the moment we were beguiled by the Makhaniya Lassi that at once soothed our appetite in as a much as it whetted it.

But it was the Kachori, leaving that lingering taste of Ajwain and Sabuth Dhaniya (whole dry coriander seeds) behind, and the Makhaniya Lassi that were flying off the counter. At first I didn’t think I’d gulp down more than one lassi. I called halt after the third only so I could sample the other savouries on sale - Mawa ki Mithai, Bangla Mithai, and Shudh Desi Ghee ki Mithai among others, priced at Rs. 130/-, Rs. 120/-, and Rs. 140/- a kilo respectively. It’s a pity that unlike the cow, the human stomach is not divided into four parts, each section freeing the others for their functions.

Handed out in a plastic cup, the Makhaniya Lassi at the Janata Sweet Home was quite unlike any I’d had before. A dash of powdered pista on the top rounded off the thick serving of butter prepared to a recipe that instantly dissolved the Jodhpur heat.



Unlike on the coast the heat in Jodhpur will not drain you of fluids or discomfort you to the point where you’d be hard pressed to resist emptying a crate of cold drinks down your throat. The heat in Jodhpur is of a different kind. It can scald your head if you’re out in the mid-day sun in the summer. It can bore a tunnel through the forehead without anyone drawing a bulls eye between your eyes. And it doesn’t help that Jodhpur is the gateway to the Thar desert.


While September is no summer by any stretch in this historic city, it’s nevertheless intense in the street. And this from someone who's no stranger to the heat, having spent much of my vacations from school riding the streets in the Deccan heartland in temperatures reaching and exceeding 44 degree C while most sought the shade of their homes. Even so I’d have expected September to be a mite cooler up north but it wasn’t to be. Blame it on the canvas strap around my neck weighted down by a camera and sundry other things in the bag.


But watching three local men outside the sweet shop nonchalantly digging into Mirchi Bhajia had a salutary effect on me. While the valour of Jodhpur revolves around the martial history of the Rathore dynasty who worshipped the Sun no less and the Mehrangarh Fort rising solidly on a hill top in the distance, I’d nevertheless be surprised if there isn’t one song dedicated to Jodhpur natives' penchant for beating the noon heat with a hot, spicy Mirchi Bhajia.

Talk of fighting fire with fire, surely there must be some truth in it.

It helped that the silent man manning the Jal Sewa counter had water ready. While providing water to the thirsty has a bearing on good karma, I’m not so sure it holds as much value if dispensed to soothe the fire raging from ingesting Mirchi Bhajia. I need to check the Jal Sewa’s Karma Quotient for the latter.


A board bearing Jal Sewa in devanagari script on a pillar announced the water service and imbued the water dispenser’s work with a certain permanence. Not everyone stopped to drink water. Some washed their hands after finishing off savouries sourced from Janata Sweet Home before washing it down with quick gulps of water from the colourful plastic tumblers.


The man tasked with distributing water to thirsty passers-by sourced water for the Jal Sewa from a tap attached to the water pipe supplying drinking water to the building. I thought it likely that the owners of Janata Sweet Home ran it as a public service, helping passers-by beat the heat.

Few shops will tolerate ‘obstructions’ leading up to the entrance unless it’s their own. And moreover Janata (read Public) is as old-school as names of shops go. The water service (Jal Seva) would qualify for public (read Janata) service, its noble intent sharing the name with the shop.

While there’s little reason to pause along the way elsewhere, the water on offer was as good a reason as any to catch a breath while contemplating the lure of the cool Makhaniya Lassi barely a step away.

Or the Mirchi Bhajia depending upon what your ‘beat the heat’ philosophy is.