BY NIRATI AGARWAL

The vast expanse of the unsympathetic yet romantic Thar Desert embodies a sense of the timeless, the feeling that the past is always present. And with good reason. As part of the Silk Road—a 2,000-year-old trading route that connected China to Turkey and Italy via India and central Asia—the Thar was once witness to a mirage more improbable than water: Colourful caravans travelling across the desert expanse laden with spices, silk, tapestries, precious stones and bronze ornaments, led by wealthy merchants from China, the Middle East and even Egypt, who had bet their lives and fortunes on surviving the desert.

Battling not only the risk of being robbed on the way, but also facing treacherous terrain, the merchants and their retinue required frequent rest stops in between. These places of rest, which carried the promise of safe haven, were called caravanserais, and provided water and food, animals for trade, and respite from the harsh trail for a night or two.

About 400 years ago, Jaisalmer in Rajasthan became one such frequent pit stop for the travelers who preferred to cut across 320,000 sq km of the Thar rather than traverse the Pamir Mountains of Central Asia. Centuries later, their history and stories have faded from memory, but the desert remembers. The remnants of abandoned villages, fortresses and havelis can be found on a 50-km trail—organized by the fort-hotel Suryagarh—across the settlements of Khaba, Kuldhara, Kanoi and Lakhmana in and around Jaisalmer.

The genesis of the trail began in 2010, when Manvendra Singh, managing director of the Jaipur-headquartered MRS Group (which has businesses in hospitality, infrastructure and mining), was building Suryagarh, a boutique property about 12 km outside Jaisalmer city. Every evening, the 27-year-old would explore the surrounding desert to learn more about the area that would house his hotel. “The countryside has always fascinated me, and Jaisalmer’s scrub desert didn’t seem to hold anyone’s interest but mine. I found it quite beautiful and very revealing,” says Singh.

What he discovered in unnamed settlements were not just ruins, but vestiges of a surprisingly well-preserved legacy. In order to delve deeper and discover the stories behind these structures, he engaged with geologists, archaeologists, historians and locals. Compelled to know more, Singh travelled to remote parts of Rajasthan “to talk to old folk”, the unofficial repository of oral history. As his SUV made tracks and grooves in the desert, the idea of offering tourists some of these extraordinary stories he’d accumulated began to take root. Today, Suryagarh’s Desert Trail allows guests the opportunity to immerse themselves in this chapter of Jaisalmer’s history.

Suryagarh prompts you to take a step back in time: The stunning 40-acre property has been built using architectural cues from old forts and Paliwal temples in and around Jaisalmer. Its ramparts, moat, carved pillars and even the lattice work are emblematic of the region. With its quiet luxury, the boutique hotel offers guests a respite from Jaipur’s rather aggressive brand of tourism. After exploring the property, I spent my first day doing what most visitors to the city do. I visited the Jaisalmer Fort (Sonar Quila), Gadsisar Lake and Patwon Ki Haveli and experienced dune bashing (a form of off-roading).

The next morning, after a halwai breakfast (the hotel’s specialty) of kachori, samosa, chaat and perfectly sticky gulab jamun, I clambered into an SUV, and embarked on the Desert Trail. With Singh as my guide, myths and legends got a new lease of life; old tales became plausible; cemeteries seemed to hold great treasure and temples in the middle of nowhere became landmarks of culture. Above all, I was afforded a lens through which the Silk Route with its hefty history became visible.

At first glance, the stark desert landscape seems to hold little beauty, just endless land and sky. Going off road, however, we begin to see old structures, markers, water basins, dilapidated rest-houses and crumbling wells. The first stop on the trail is Khaba Fort, which stands at the intersection between Sindh and Jaisalmer along the Silk Route. It is believed to be 700 years old, and I can imagine merchants gathering at the fort for the night, protected by the ruling Rajputs, eager to trade with the neighboring community. Khaba Fort overlooks one of the 84 abandoned settlements where the Paliwal community once thrived. “So far, only 81 settlements have been found. The Paliwals abandoned their homes around 250 to 300 years ago,” says Singh. A flight of stairs from the fort leads to the settlement.

The Paliwals were excellent herdsmen and agriculturalists, and even better traders. I’m told that at one time, almost all trade in the country passed through Paliwal hands. They dealt with bulls, horses and precious incense which they produced from the Boswellia, or frankincense tree, locally called the Googel plant, which is grown in some parts of Jaisalmer even today.

Due to the dearth of any written history, there are plenty of legends about the Paliwals. Locals say nearly three centuries ago, the entire community disappeared in 24 hours, leaving behind everything but a few valuables. One story behind their sudden departure involves a debauched diwan called Salem Singh, who had a harem of young girls, married multiple women, and even killed those who refused his advances. But when he turned his attention to the Paliwal chief’s daughter, community members decided that they would rather abandon their settlements than let one more girl pay the price for their inability to stop the diwan. Historians, however, believe the settlements were abandoned as the result of a contamination or desecration of the water resources that the Paliwals held in reverence. This theory is the most plausible explanation, and is underscored by the complex system of three-tiered tanks near the village wells that have survived the ravages of time. Paliwals used the first tier to store drinking water for human consumption, the second was used for bathing and utilities, and the third tier was for cattle to drink from.

Walking among the ruins of these settlements, which the Paliwals ingeniously built to encourage community activities and discourage the harsh desert sun from hampering their daily lives, is an extraordinary experience. I return to the SUV and head back to the fort where I climb up a flight of stone stairs that leads to a temple dedicated to Devi Hinglai, an incarnation of Mahishasur Mardini (a version of goddess Durga). It’s believed to have been in existence even before Fort Khaba was built. A delightful old pujari with a long white beard tells me that when the Paliwal Brahmins decided to abandon their village, they wanted to take their patron goddess with them. But no matter how hard they tried, the statue could not be moved. I bow to the divine and take my leave.

Back in the vehicle, we go deeper into the desert. I see an acre-long patch of green. Though it looks like a mirage, Singh explains that it is farmland which uses irrigation techniques that had been developed by the Paliwals, who were skilled farmers and believed in working with nature. Growing pearl millet and cluster beans, they developed various techniques to harvest water in the arid land—these have been inherited by farmers today. By creating a sloping catchment area called aagor, a higher flatland composed of iron ore gravel and a high layer of gypsum that doesn’t allow seepage of rainwater, they guided water to a lower, fertile depression where farming was possible. Another technique included building khadeens, community farms around oases where lower lands behind the bund remain submerged during the rains. Though these processes are centuries old, they remain some of the cheapest and easiest techniques of desert farming to this day. Another irrigation method was the dhora system, where fields were irrigated by a network of small drains (or dhoras). One look and I begin to understand the respect the Paliwals had for water.

The next stop in the trail is Mundhari village, known for its spring wells that have the purest water in Jaisalmer. The source of water remains a mystery; locals insist that a river once flowed through the village. Under the beating sun, a villager lowers a bucket into the well. On tasting the sweet, pristine, deliciously cool water, I felt, for a brief moment, that I had grasped the hands of my ancestors.

This continuity of culture becomes all the more visible as we drive to one of the highest points in the deserts, the Nabh Dungar temple. A sentinel of time and culture, the temple’s peak has a Chinese motif of a lion, a reflection of the trade and exchange of religious ideas that India had with its neighbors, courtesy of the Silk Route. Hawks fly in gyres over the temple, while smaller birds hop on the rocky outcrops. The desert no longer feels that harsh.

We then move on to a Bhil village, characterized by small makeshift houses called dhanis. Natives of Jaisalmer, the nomadic Bhils follow the ways of their ancestors, and continue to rear cattle as a primary source of income, working on farms owned by others only to supplement their earnings. “The Bhils have taken an oath that they will not own farm land. The local legend is that the Bhils are the descendants of goddess Parvati’s brothers,” says Suryagarh hotel manager Nakul Hada, who is driving the SUV. Centuries ago, the goddess asked her husband Shiva to bless her brothers. The brothers not recognizing his first blessing—a silver pot that had been placed near their belongings—walked away. Parvati asked her husband to bless them again. Shiva agreed to give them his precious Nandi (bull); Parvati told her brothers that this gift would bring them prosperity and happiness. In their impatience, the brothers killed the animal, expecting to find wealth inside its body. For this disrespect, Parvati cursed her brothers, saying neither they nor their descendants would be able to own land.

As Hada finishes narrating the tale, we arrive at a small dhani. Made of thatch and scrub, clay and cow dung, the single-family settlement has a separate area for cattle and an outhouse. As I play with the goats, I see a cellphone in the straw. Though they cling to traditional ways, change is coming to one of the oldest communities that calls Thar Desert home.

After all that bumpy off-road driving, Singh has planned a late afternoon treat, Silk Route style. We drive to the largest and oldest functional reservoir in the area, Joshida Talao, for a wine and tea picnic. Orange parasols, white gaddas (mattresses) and golden bolsters are invitingly laid out around an old rest house. As I sink into a gadda, a Manganiyar musician takes his place under a babool tree to sing old folk songs. Manganiyars are Muslim folk artistes from Rajasthan whose ancestors survived on the patronage of Rajputs. They have a distinct gravelly way of singing, and use traditional instruments such as ravanhattas (a type of bowed violin). Orange-turbaned waiters serve us wine along with grilled meat and sandwiches and after having our fill, we listen more closely to the musician’s lyrics.

The songs tell stories of Bhati heroes, the Rajput warriors credited with having established Jaisalmer in the 12th century. Excellent horse riders and marksmen, they are believed to have gained prominence in the 14th and 15th centuries. As Jaisalmer was located on the Silk Route between Afghanistan and Delhi, the Bhati Rajputs not only built numerous guest houses, but also presented stamped passports to merchants. In exchange for taxes, they offered them protection against theft. The area around the talao, in fact, has several engraved pillars called Govardhans, markers to inform thirsty traders that water was close by.

The day ends with a visit to the cemeteries near Nabh Dungar and Khaba village, memorial and burial grounds for travelers from the Far East and even Egypt who died while on the road. There are headstones with sculptures of the departed—some with styles of headgear and dress that look Phoenician—bearing dates and epitaphs that aren’t quite clear. A hot wind blows past me, and in my mind’s eye I see a caravan in the same spot I am standing at. It’s time to head back to Suryagarh.

After dinner, made all the more delectable by the horror stories that Singh and Hada had narrated with great gusto, I left the hotel at midnight for a chudail trail to experience some of the most haunted places in Jaisalmer. Our departure is characterized by a blood moon, menacing yet, given the desert landscape, common. In the car, the driver recounts stories of the villainous Salem Singh and the witches who were pushed into wells by superstitious villagers. The car’s headlamps cast shadows in its wake, setting the tone for the night. The neem and babool trees near the wells, which looked welcoming in the day, appear ominous. It’s time to put aside reason and logic and embrace the ghosts of the past.

The car stops at Kuldhara village, one of the abandoned Paliwal sites, and my guide takes me to a centuries-old house, which once belonged to a wealthy family. A flight of stairs opens into a tiny basement where I’m told a woman was buried alive. With cellphones illuminating our way and nothing but the guide’s voice echoing through the empty rooms, it is difficult to remain aloof. I step out of the haunted house into the night sky lit by the red moon and what appear to be a million shining stars overhead. We pass a temple where people built small Shiv lingams on the portico to save themselves from evil spirits, and stop by Kuldhara cemetery to see the headstones under the moonlit sky.

Chilled to the bone—by the sights, stories and weather—I was, to be honest, relieved when, two hours later, it was time to head back. Our last dinner on the grounds of Suryagarh is dedicated to the Rajput hunting feast. The hotel’s chefs use dhuan and dhundar (techniques of smoking meat to tenderize and infuse flavor and aroma) to grill quail, rabbit, lamb and chicken with hardy local spices. Across the moat at the edge of our table, Kalbeliya dancers flash their skirts in unison to the beat of folk music performed by a troupe of artiste It is an amalgamation of the past and present, with music and the oral retelling of stories, of reimagining and visions, that makes us one with the Thar in that moment of time.

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Courtesy: Forbes India (Published on March 28, 2015)

The post Jaisalmer and the Silk Route: An intimate acquaintance in the desert first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Nasir Aijaz

“The Sindhi Sarangi was invented thousands of years back in Sindh, which slowly became famous throughout the world, and also it became a part of Indian culture,” Ustad Lalu Khan Thaim, a renowned Sindhi Sarangi-maker and player from Jaisalmer, said recently in an online interview with Rajesh Kumar Parasramani, himself an acclaimed Sindhi Sarangi player, based in Bilaspur city of Chhatishgarh state of India.

Ustad Lalu Khan was interviewed live for Studio28 Channel program ‘Zindadil’ from his Sarangi workshop located in his home in Jaisalmer, where he had placed several Sarangis, including one that had remained in use of his ancestors. The 57-year old Ustad Lalu Khan is the last of his generation who besides playing the Sindhi Sarangi, also crafts the folk music instrument whenever any order is placed.

Tracing the history of Sindhi Sarangi, Ustad Lalu Khan quoted his maternal grandfather and his Guru Ustad Cheeme Khan. “He knew well how Sindhi Sarangi was invented and developed in Sindh. He often told that Sindhi Sarangi witnessed different phases. It had first only a single string and later some more strings were added. At a stage it had five strings, which were added two more and then finally it had nine strings when the Sarangi reached to Multan via Rahimyar Khan of present day Punjab province, where it was further developed with addition of more strings,” Ustad Lalu Khan told adding that it was from Multan that Sindhi Sarangi spread to other parts of the world.

“Nana used to call Sindhi Sarangi as ‘Sab Rangi’ (having all the colors), as according to him this instrument, born in Indus Valley, has the unique quality to warm up the soul,” he proudly told.

Ustad Lalu Khan, who is known among the very few artists in Rajasthan and probably India, who preserves, crafts and brings forward the ancient musical history of Rajasthan, hailing from the thousand-year-old traditional Jangra Shaili (style of music), and is a part of the diminishing community of instrument makers of the country.

“I started learning the art of playing and crafting the Sindhi Sarangi from my maternal grandfather Cheeme Khan when I was just 12. I served my Nana with full devotion, and he was so happy to teach me this rare art – the entire process of crafting the body of Sarangi from a piece of wood to preparing strings from intestine of a goat,” he shared.

When asked, Ustad Laku Khan said, “Crafting a Sindhi Sarangi is a little bit difficult job, as it is made differently, as compared to others. First, one has to decide which kind of wood is to be used – but the Sheesham wood is the best to use for it. As per Nana’s formula, a piece of Sheesham wood measuring 7x7x27 inches is to be placed in an iron vase. Then the water and mixed with some ingredients including leaves, seed and juice of mint plant (garden mint), milk of Barr tree, home-made alcohol etc. is put on fire to boil for some time and then poured on the Sheesham wood till its fibers absorb all these elements.”

“The next phase is engraving the wood and shaping it by carving manually in a very slow process. I myself do it all measuring each part of Sarangi’s body – the head, the ribs and abdomen etc. I do not use drill machine or any other machine, as the wood would become hot if any machine is used, and lose the effect. It’s in fact the labor of love. The Sarangi has a very close relation with the heart and using the machines would bring an end to such relation. You work with love from core of your heart, and the Sarangi will resound with lovely echoes,” he elaborated.

Ustad Lalu Khan said ‘if the scale of Sur or the musical note is wrong, it wouldn’t touch the heart. The Sur matters in music, and the music is connected with the soul. “He, who doesn’t love music, he is not a human,” Lalu Khan recited a couplet from a folk poetry.

On a query, Lalu Khan revealed that the strings for the Sarangi are made from intestines but that too is a lengthy process. “After making thread like strings from intestines, they are put in the milk drawn from the Ak, a wild desert plant. Then it’s oiled with butter made from cow milk, after which the strings are dried.”

“It will take at least twenty days to craft a Sindhi Sarangi, as half the time is spent on carving it out from a piece of wood” Lalu Khan told whose book on Sindhi Sarangi and other folk Sindhi music instruments has recently been published by Dr. C. V. Raman University of Bilaspur India.

Recalling the days of his maternal grandfather, Ustad Lalu Khan said, “My Nana was a Darwish. He was a street musician and used to wander here and there playing the Sindhi Sarangi, without greed of making money. Some fifty years back, Nana Cheeme Khan also played the Sarangi in front of the Indian President Neelam Sanjiva Reddy during his visit to Rajasthan.”

Turning back to the history of Sindhi Sarangi, Lalu Khan categorically said, “It originated from Sindh, from Sindhi society. I belong to a family of Sarangi players who migrated to India from Multan and very well knew the origin of Sindhi Sarangi. The Sarangi makers in Multan had added an extra string of different kind with specific purpose calling it ‘Jorra’, while the original Sindhi Sarangi had no such ‘Jorra’. Even today, the Sarangi played by Ustad Lakha Khan of Rajasthan has 27 strings but no ‘Jorra’. It’s the identity of Sindhi Sarangi,” he told.

“The Sufi musicians of Sindh used to play Sindhi Sarangi at folk festivals and shrines. Sindhi Sarangi was also played by the Sufi musicians at the shrine of 18^th century Sufi Saint Poet Rohal Fakir in Rohri while it is part of most of the songs sung by Bhagat Kanwar Ram. My grandfather and Nana often told that they used to visit Sindh to play Sarangi,” Lalu Khan told and recited a song ‘Loli’, sung by Sant Kanwar Ram, which has echoes of Sindhi Sarangi in its background.

Watch the Interview of Ustad Lalu Khan

Rajesh Kumar Parasramani, who is also the author of a book on Sindhi Sarangi and has done Ph.D. on it, and now has been appointed as the Member of Advisory Panel of Chennai Fine Arts Institution for a 2-year term, inquired about Ustad Lalu Khan’s own life, work achievement.

Ustad Lalu Khan, who also has command over playing the harmonium and Sharnai (Shahnai), had been playing Sarangi, Sharnai and other music instruments locally since childhood. He used to visit an Asthan of Sindhi community in Jaipur, where he would be rewarded with prizes. “My hard work took me to the heights of fame and played Sindhi Sarangi at national and international events; I was awarded certificates; but I remember the year 1986 when former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi and Super Star Amitabh Bachan visited Rajasthan and I played Sindhi Sarangi in front of them for three days. Rajiv Gandhi was so happy that he honored me with his wrist watch, which he was gifted by his in-laws. He also granted 86 residential plots for the musicians where a ‘Kalakar Colony’ was developed. Another award was given by former President APJ Abdul Kalam at Vigyan Dhawan, Delhi in 2006,” he told.

As regards crafting and selling of Sindhi Sarangi, Lalu Khan said, “I am engaged in crafting of Sindhi Sarangi since last one and half a decade. I have sold many pieces, but still it needs support of Sindhi community to promote it. For survival, Sindhi Sarangi direly needs their support and patronage.”

Lalu Khan, born on February 17, 1965, and who is third in the generation of Sindhi Sarangi-makers, has preserved a Sindhi Sarangi played by his Nana as well as his father. “My Nana Cheeme Khan passed away at the age of around sixty years while my father Dine Khan was of 65 when he died. The Sindhi Sarangi I have preserved is thus a heritage, as it’s so old and played by my elders.”

Revealing his desire to hand over this heritage to Rajesh Kumar, Ustad Lalu Khan said, “It would be proud moment for me to transfer this heritage to another renowned Sarangi player, but first I will have to renovate it.”      During entire online interview, the zealous musician’s eyes beamed with pride knowing that he carries a hefty traditional history on his shoulders. Ustad Lalu Khan, in his customary turban, accustomed his abode, filled with instruments.

“People have started to deviate towards the newer styles of singing, yet I try to sing and practice these older styles of music, write about Ragas and learn about harmony and rhythm. I even give training to children of my community, make them understand the importance of this music because this is our culture, handed to us by our ancestors.”

“It is strange that people don’t know about the history of Sarangi, which is one of the basics of folk music.”

Today, Ustad Lalu Khan is an institution in himself, training the upcoming generations on his folk music, introducing his plethora of musical discoveries and rediscoveries to the world. “I have dedicated my life to Sindhi Sarangi, and would go happily anywhere if invited to play it,” he said pledged to attend the event in Bilaspur to be observed on June 27 as Sindhi Sarangi Day. This date had been fixed as Ustad Rakha Khan’s Sindhi Sarangi has 27 strings.

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Nasir Aijaz is a Karachi-based senior journalist, and author of nine books. 

The interview of Ustad Lalu Khan is being published in collaboration with Chanel Studio28. 

The post Sindhi Sarangi’s Journey from Sindh to India first appeared on Sindh Courier.

By Ria Gupta

Somewhere amidst the ochre-colored landscape of the Thar Desert, yellow sandstone domes highlight the remnants of a bygone era. These are the cenotaphs of Bada Bagh in Jaisalmer, built in memory of Rajasthan’s royalty. Perched atop a hill, the site offers breathtaking views of the horizon and the ever expanding desert. Every evening, the empty tombs are bathed in an orange glow as the sun begins to set in their backdrop. But no flowers bloom in its surroundings, and barely any greenery is visible across the landscape. Why then, is it called Bada Bagh?

Bada Bagh, Jaisalmer

The memorial site was built as a garden complex and expanded by the Bhatti rulers of Rajasthan. Its first monument was set up in memory of Raja Jaitsi II, who ruled the kingdom in the early 16th century. It is said that during his reign, he built a tank (called Jait Sar) and a dam (called Jait Bandh) at this spot six kilometers from the city to create a lush oasis in the otherwise barren land. The dam was about 1,200 feet in length, 300 feet in width and 100 feet in height. Irrigational channels were laid to take the water from the reservoir to the land around it.

The Raja’s actions bore fruit, and soon the land was thriving with cultivation. Mangoes, date palms and other fruits grew aplenty. The green landscape lent the name Bada Bagh to the area. After his death, the efforts were continued by his successors and additions included a mango orchard and several stone cenotaphs. From there began the tradition of erecting monuments of stone in memory of the Rajputs who ruled over Jaisalmer until the 20th century.

The last cenotaph to be built was of Maharawal Jawahir Singh however, it was never completed. His son, Maharawal Girdhar Singh, died when the construction was only midway. Local folklore says that the mishap was considered so inauspicious that the site was abandoned immediately, and remained so until it fell into complete disarray. Since then, the garden complex has become an object of neglect, with many of its trees wilting to death while the exceptional stone structures stand strong against the winds of time.

Every memorial or chattri built here had a story to tell. The shape of the domes revealed the identity of their makers—pyramid domes were made by Muslim sculptors, while the round ones were created by Hindus. The base of all chattris would be either square or hexagonal. Smaller chattris were constructed for the women, while the monuments for kings were humongous in size, with exquisite carvings adorning the domes that sheltered statues of the most superior rulers. Every cenotaph housed an inscribed tablet of about four feet in height. On it was sculpted the face of the king with a description about him. Other tablets depicted images of his wives and concubines, and showed him on a horse. A conversation with a local might reveal more about the detailing including the fact that the position of the horse revealed whether the king died in battle or suffered a natural death.

Spend the day at Bada Bagh deciphering the carvings and wait till dusk falls to see the monument of memories turn into a golden mirage.

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Courtesy: Conde Nast Traveller

The post Bada Bagh, Jaisalmer: The story behind the forlorn cenotaphs of Jaisalmer first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Sindh Courier Report

Rajesh Kumar Parasramani, a renowned Sarangi player based in Chhattishgarh, has founded Sindhu Gharana to promote Sindhi Sarangi in India and abroad.

‘Sindhu Gharana’ name for Sindhi Sarangi was finalized after holding consultations with several Sindhi classical artists on telephone and in a meeting held at Rajesh’s home in Bilaspur, Chhattishgarh attended by Mr. D. D. Ahuja and Mrs. Vinita Bhawnani.

“I had been working on this idea since several months. I had also prepared some videos to explain my idea of pioneering a Gharana to give an identity to Sindhi Sarangi, which despite being an integral instrument of Sindhi music, now seems at the verge of extinction,” Rajesh told Sindh Courier on phone from Bilaspur, India.

Rajesh Kumar, who is a well-educated person doing Ph.D. on Sarangi, and a banker by profession, said, “Sarangi can be classified as Kashmiri, Gujarati and Nepali Sarangi being played all over India but the Sindhi Sarangi players could be found only in Jaisalmer and Jodhpur.”

“Similarly, there are various Gharanas (dynasties) known as Muradabadi, Hyderabadi, Delhi and Jaipur Gharans of Sarangi players. However, currently only one Gharana, known as Multan Gharana of Ustad Lakha Khan and Nadeem Khan, does exist who plays Sindhi Sarangi. The other Sarangi players have no such Gharana and are performing without any identification,” Rajesh said sharing the information. “This is why I decided to take initiative and set the foundation of Sindhu Sarangi Gharana to give identification to Sindhi Sarangi.”

Watch the Video: Sindhi Sarangi

Differentiating the Sindhu Sarangi with others, Rajesh told, “I have minutely observed that Sindhi Sarangi had been played with a single finger since olden days. Even the songs sung by Bhagat Kanwar Ram had the Sarangi played with one finger. That means two Surs with one string. Moreover, it has Meendh or smooth playing to produce plain sailing of Surs unlike others that ends with a Khatka or jerk.”

“I will maintain this distinguish playing of Sindhi Sarangi i.e. producing two Surs with single string and having Meendh, the smooth sailing,” he added.

Rajesh Kumar, despite being visually impaired, has a passion for Sarangi, and especially the Sindhi Sarangi, which he desires to promote around the world. “With the consultation of senior classical artists, I have decided to prepare international notations of various Ragas to be played on Sindhi Sarangi so that any person who wants to learn it anywhere in the world can play it,” he said.

“Further, we will hold workshops and other programs about Sindhi Sarangi in different parts of India,” Rajesh said unveiling his future plans and added, “I will play Sindhi Ragas like Rag Rano and others wherever I will perform”.

“The Sindhi panchayat of Chhattishgrah will also decide a date and issue a call for Sindhis all over the world to observe annual day of Sindhi Sarangi,” he said.

Hailing from a Sindhi family who migrated to India from Sehwan Sindh, Rajesh has thorough study of Sindhi Ragas. “I am expected to be invited shortly by All India Radio at its Bilaspur station to perform Sindhi Sarangi and for that I will produce Sindhi Bhervi Rag,” he told.

Excited Rajesh Kumar Parasramani, showing his exaltation for ancient Sindhi music instrument, pledged to give new life to Sindhi Sarangi, which has almost vanished. He also mentioned a folk song ‘Goud’ sung by the people of Rajasthan and Thar with the fall of first drop of rain to express their joy. “I have developed this song on Sindhi Sarangi, being the first step for promoting it like the first drop of rain in the desert. I had played this song on Sarangi at the meeting held a couple of days back with Mrs. Vinita Bhawnani and D. D. Ahuja.”

It is pertinent to mention that a few months back, Rajesh had successfully manufactured his own wooden Sarangi after working on it for about a year.

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