Adventures in the Blue City

Singhvi’s Haveli is a red sandstone wonder complete with a large courtyard, half dozen flights of stairs, and multiple terraces at varying levels. Each façade is lined with exquisite jails- carved lattice screens made from peach-painted stone. The Guest House is family run and decorated in traditional Rajasthani style with ornate floor cushions, hanging swings, wall paintings and silk sari curtains.

In the morning we were directed two flights of stairs to the top terrace. There were three old wooden doors, one of which led to our simple whitewashed room. The walls were adorned with a hand painted scene of two Indian lovers and a portrait of a young woman wearing a translucent sari. Our single window faced the “Blue City,” the oldest district of Jodhpur.

The view from here is arresting. We gaze upon a vision of cubist buildings fit together in a tight puzzle of disorienting angles and lines. Most homes have been painted an electric shade of neon pastel blue; they glow against the duller tones of earthy brown and gray. According to locals, the unique shade is thought to repel mosquitoes and other unwanted insects. Decades ago, the color denoted the residence of a Brahmin family, the most respected caste known for producing teachers and priests. But such symbolism has worn away as members of other castes adopt the trend, leaving Jodhpur’s cityscape a haunting and memorable blue.

The city sits at the edge of the Great Thar Desert. The urban sprawl is seemingly built into the surrounding ridges, the crests of which dramatically rise above the last line of houses. A 10-kilometer wall encircles the oldest and bluest part of the city. Founded in 1459, the city of Jodhpur served as a vital trade route for goods such as opium, sandalwood, dates and copper. The surrounding Kingdom of Rathore was once fondly known as Marwar- the Land of Death.

Now Jodhpur is famous for the Meheran Garh, a huge fort that towers above the city with an unexpected palace poking above its foreboding walls. It took Alexander and I more than half an hour to climb to the entrance gate while vultures circled overhead. The architecture is remarkable. It looks as if the fort’s massive turrets sprouted naturally from the ochre-shaded rocky cliffs. The view from the top is no less impressive; the scene extends for miles and gives a rare aerial perspective on the city’s seemingly erratic urban geography. Hundreds of feet blow we could make out people immersed in their daily routines. They looked like tiny, colored dots moving on rooftops and in labyrinth of tangled streets.

Our ventures into the picturesque old city contrasted to our placid views from above. The rickshaws dangerously swerved through the narrow, winding streets leaving clouds of lilac exhaust in their wake. Vendors called to us to purchase bananas, heavy locks, pointed shoes, silver jewelry, and sweets made from spices and boiled milk. Old men (many with ear hair several inches long!) sat in the doorways of their tiny shops spitting tobacco juice into the street. Small mules, their backs swaying under heavy loads of crumbling bricks, meandered through the congested traffic as a boy whipped them from behind. A middle-aged man pushed a cart filled with stacks of white, women’s underwear. Bands of schoolchildren clad in starched uniforms tried to touch my arms.

Once in a while Alexander and I would stop to browse through doorways and windows. We watched artisans at work as they tooled leather, cut picture frames and strung together garlands of pink flowers. Near a main square we saw teenagers stirring copper vats of boiling cooking oil used to make many popular snacks. One of our most rewarding stops was at a local turban shop. We examined contemporary designs and asked questions about modern consumer tastes. It was fascinating to see how much the products have changed- from color to design to labor- in such a short period of time.