Sumitra, Daya Ram, and the dream of Dharohar

One of the major projects of the JVF recently has been the band Dharohar, a group composed of musicians from all over Rajasthan and one from the UK, Jason Singh. The band's members span all India's socio-economic strata; The band combines musical themes and traditions from across Rajasthan, but most notably it also seeks to harmonize and find shared ground between musicians who, before Dharohar, were separated by caste and geographic region. With funds from the British Council and the Annenberg foundation, Dharohar has toured all over India and hopes to break into the European festival circuit.

Last week I took a trip with John about three hours west of Jaipur to visit Sumitra and Daya Ram, two of the band's ten members. John pays regular visits to musicians in Rajasthan to find out more about their townships and the circumstances which surround (and consequently affect) their art. John isn't particularly involved with Dharohar, but he came along to interview Sumitra and Daya Ram for a film currently being made by documentary filmmaker Elizabeth McKay.

Sumitra's town, Jaitaran, was our first visit.



(to see more photos from the trip, visit the flickr set)



We set out at about 8 am. The road west of Jaipur starts out as recently-lain tarmac; predictably it turns into pockmarked freeway and subsequent patchwork of roads and squares. The American idea of roadways elevated above the land (overstepping cities, state boundaries, etc.), designed to make cross-country travel effortless, either does not exist here or is not yet realized: Semi-trucks compete with horse-drawn carriages for space on roadways which only seem to exist by the good grace of the buildings which abut them.

Jaitaran is modest; the main thoroughfare has your usual allotment of men smoking bidi and lazing about over cups of chai. (A common refrain on these trips has been: "Look at all these men, doing nothing! While all the women do the work." Not really a problem endemic to India, though). We turn right and creep up a hill, alighting at a small walled compound, Sumitra's house.

We find Sumitra, her sister Shoba, her two brothers and her father Sajjan Das waiting for us.

Sumitra and her family sing a kind of devotional music unique to Rajasthan; it's impossible to describe, and unfortunately I don't have a recording of the day's performance to post. Sumitra's voice is beautiful: a sylph-cry as much as it is a call towards devotion. She sings alternately about god and the missing lover; John told me there is a reason the two are often conflated.

John interviewed her about her experience in Dharohar. Undoubtedly it is a band, she says, not simply an agglomeration of different musicians and performers. Sumitra had high praise for the democratic model adopted by the band at the instigation of Jason Singh (as de facto frontman, I because of his status as a foreigner and consequent remove from caste antagonisms). No decision is made without complete agreement by the band. John calls this democratic model of music-making "something I've never heard of".

If someone doesn't like a decision reached by the group, at the very least they must acknowledge that they participated in (and thus legitimized) the process which produced the decision. It will be interesting to see whether the seemingly harmonious working relationship of the band is merely a tacit sort of coercion on the part of the band: it is commonly observed in juries and other small democratic bodies that perceived leaders influence the opinions and decisions of those who rationally ought to oppose unanimous decisions.

After her interview, we lunched in Sumitra's room. It was a small, cozy room with cement walls and a cool draft from outside. She had pictures of herself, smiling, holding roses and awards. Many repetitions of her name, 'Sumitra', in cursive script. "Such a diva," I remarked. "A regular Aretha Franklin!" We sat on mats and ate dal with chapati and paneer. We ate curdled and sweetened goat's milk for dessert.

After our repast we went outside to see Sumitra and her family perform.

After the performance, we headed a short ways down the road to stay at Naraj house, the Rajput equivalent of a motel.

The next day, we left at 8:30 for Merta, the hometown of Daya Ram. Daya Ram plays the harmonium and sings in Dharohar.

From the Dholi community, traditionally a community of singers, Daya Ram can sing mand – a Rajasthani style of singing favoured in the courts, as well as bhajans, spiritual songs about every day life, love and loss. For the last 40 years, Daya Ram’s father has run Kuchamani Khayal performances in their local area. This is a whole night of song and drama, enacting versions of Hindu mythologies and histories written down centuries ago by Brahmins for the community, and gradually adopted for public entertainment. Daya has been involved in these productions all his life, often taking female roles (typically, men play female parts in Khayal), such as the king’s wife, and dancing and singing in these shows. He has been associated with JVF since 2004.
From an excellent write-up [PDF] on Dharohar by Georgie Pope, who pointed out several mistakes in the original version of this post.

Daya Ram (right)

The day's events echoed yesterday's. John helped Elizabeth interview Daya Ram about his experiences with Dharohar. Daya Ram betrayed a more pessimistic view of the band without Jason, who left yesterday for the UK. Although they have a brilliant working relationship, there is no way of knowing whether Jason's absence will cause hidden egotisms and ambitions to take hold of the band and fray its espirit de corps.

After the interview, Daya Ram and his family put on a show.

Daya Ram's Father

The women came out and insisted on a performance.

Daya Ram, John, and Daya Ram's father