Blue City. Sun City. Gateway to the Desert. Hello, Jodhpur!

Gateway to the desert, the Sun-City, welcome to Jodphur, a city of blue!

This evening I write from the sky-blue wooden box that is my resting place within The Blue City. Wall to wall doors and shutters give the feeling one has climbed inside a giant wardrobe, a blue cupboard room in a fairy-tale land. Thatched windows bring in the bells and warbled mantra drifting up from the street below. Jodhpur would be equally named Rainbow Town, blue playing centre stage on a background of candy coloured pinks, purples and green. Rajasthan is a wash of vibrant tones and the second biggest city in the state brings its architecture into the canvas of colour, along with the usual fabrics, flags and motorised vehicles. 

‘Bob Hostel’ is a small family run gig, and the building itself, a tall, narrow interior, dotted in fairy-lights, of course in the signature blue. There is always an interesting chat to be had with the younger guys that will succeed the proprietor, often a nephew, son, or close family friend.  Today I meet Rafi, a trendy, young thing, dressed of course in a dazzling shirt and Rajasthani slippers, heralding from Jaisalmer, but running this place here in Jodhpur to support those back home. Rafi enjoys telling me about his family and showing me pictures on his phone, he’s excited to be going back to visit in a couple of days, having not seen them for months.  His small corner of the reception area, which serves as his bedroom, has posters of Bob Dylan and The Beatles, talking points to which Rafi has little to actually say.  I find it surprising when local people profess to knowing Manchester, my birth-town, yet rarely do the words Manchester United register any recognition. In a country of cricket lovers, the cricket ground can sometimes get a nod, but it seems for many Indian people the world outside of their vast, sprawling land remains largely unknown. After chai with Raf’, I have to excuse myself to escape further tea with the guest-house owner, who is already summoning a roaming chai wallah to the door.  

I am beginning to see that Indian folks love to ply their guests with tea, a liquid adhesive to keep them around, seemingly just for further chats and company, welcome with little else to do; but right now I want to get out and see the city, so I run out the door with a quick goodbye. 

On arrival in a tutktuk, Jodhpur seemed to strike the same chords as Jaipur, loud, busy, dusty, hot, but now, as I traverse the small chock-filled streets by foot, it appears to have a more relaxed vibe.  Both sides of each and every long, paved, lane is lined with shops; tiny, hollowed concrete cubes, crammed full with wares, contents of which appeared undecipherable, boxes on boxes, shelves chock-full.  Each shop front houses a large, square, white cushion and pillow, a comfortable seating place for a day and night of trade.  Old men with grey hair, perch, cross-legged, smoking hand-rolled local cigarettes and chatting to their market neighbour. Life seems easy here, despite being in a country where, for some, life is a struggle of survival. 

However, as I wandered homeward, hours later, through the same bizaar, the same faces sat in the same spots, seemingly not having moved, a long, long, day, stationary, in a small claustrophobic lane, endless scooters and tuktuks assaulting the senses, in a constant stream. Perhaps this sedentary life appeals to a weary traveller, the soft sofa cushions would be a nice place to rest and watch the day’s activity go by.  Yet an hour or so sitting relaxing here, drinking chai, does not akin to a lifetime on these streets, day in, day out, hour after hour.  This is real India. Local life, a lifetime spent in a fishbowl.

Yet these faces do not display misery or solace, no sympathy required here. The people of Jodhpur are happy, their faces content, with dancing eyes.  It strikes me again how they differ from those of the other places I’ve visited on this enchanting journey through Rajasthan.  Whilst the Rishikesh folk were blissed-out and the Jaipur crowd stern and surly, the people of Jodhpur were not about the hustle.  I sense a relaxed laisse-faiz air, life just was what it was here.  Traders didn’t force their goods on to you, shouting Maam, Maam, Maam, like a broken record, or closer still a relentless five-year old.  You are left to your own meandering devices, the only interactions, ones of curiosity, at the stranger in their midst, ‘where you going, Maam?’ ‘What country?’ ‘Your good name, Maam?’ and many smiles. As I weave my way into the blue neighbourhood, the intrigue from the people grows.  

Every, single passer-by utters a gentle, hello, Namaste, hi.  It seems they are genuinely delighted to greet a foreigner in these small back-streets of their ‘hood. Children dart around laughing, coming close and giggling before running back to their friends. ‘How are you? Are you fine?’, a chance to practice the common phrases learnt in school.  A small, group of young boys appoint themselves as my escorts, maybe ten or eleven years old. The boldest of the crew peppers me with questions, and warns me from a direction where there are some ‘bad boys who will disturb you’.  They instead lead me to an old, refined, gun-metal haired fellow, tooting on a great, silver trombone.  He plays me a tune, his face alight with amusement, and waves me off as I depart. I like Jodhpur. Once away from the hustle bustle of the lengthy bizaars the streets are alive with happy energy, even the old ladies occupying the stoops, radiate an energy of peace, this is life, sit down and take it as it comes. 

I spend my two days wandering around slowly, simply enjoying the vibes and sights to be seen.  Small temples dotted all around and the magnificent fort, high up in the distance, appears grandly at every turn, visible through the gaps between buildings, up on the hills that hug this city.  The blue buildings bring a coolness to the alleyways, one of the suggested reasons for their tone. The other being that they beam blue like the colour of Krishna, an equally logical motive, in these parts. 

The fort is surrounded by a desert park, a sprawling  78 hectare area, in which the local flora and fauna have been recultivated over the last ten years, bringing the desert landscape back to it’s natural state, after an outbreak of a rogue exotic species caused an epidemic wiping out everything else.  Trekking around this park one is reminded, this was indeed, the edge of the desert, the gateway to the Thar.  Jodphur, I salute you.