Circa Early 1990s
In the fort city of Bijapur atop the arid Deccan Plateau, there was once a noble sultan of the Bahmani Dynasty. His name was Sultan Ibrahim, the Adil Shah. Unlike his barbaric ancestors, Ibrahim was a lover of the Arts and a budding musician. During his reign, he transformed into reality his dream of establishing a city devoted to music. His creation was christened NavRasPur, the city of the Nine Rasas of Indian Music. If you happen to wander into the prickly bush covered outskirts of Bijapur, you might stumble upon the mammoth ruins of desolate palaces of fine art, of bramble covered fountains and porticoed courtyards. (See Photo of Sangit Mahal). If you listen hard, you can almost hear the lilting melancholy tunes of the court musicians. But, I recommend that you go there during that one special week, when the Navraspur festival is in progress. I have been there twice, many many years ago..
In that brief annual flowering of Navraspur, the thorny scrubs of the chaparral are burnt to the ground, and replaced by clean mattresses. The wizened stones which were once the pedestal of the Adilshahi durbar are now the stage. And on that stage underneath the glare of bright lights perform some of the most promising Hindustani musicians in India. It is a dreamscape, the milky moonlight, the soothing cold desert winds, the murmured wah-wahs of the crowd and the trance like vocals of the maestros on stage. All this transported me back into the darbars of those kings of yore.
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