The Sacred River Festival | Music at the centre of the universe

Maheshwar’s Sacred River Festival prides itself as an investigation of harmony — a celebration of arts both classical and folk

“Look, she’s coming up,” someone said, and just like that, a group of us turned around to see a glorious full moon rise from the ramparts of Ahilya Fort.

We were seated on the fan-shaped ghats leading from the fort down to the river Narmada. For the last half hour, the young santoor exponent Satyendra Singh Solanki had been playing ‘Raag Bhoop’ on the stage erected against the backdrop of the river. The Sacred River Festival in Maheshwar, near Indore in Madhya Pradesh, was a collection of such moments rather than one grand spectacle — from the providence of a boat moving slowly behind the stage just as Satyendra’s brother Ramendra Singh Solanki’s tabla accompaniment picked up to the explosion of flavours in the saffron kheer served as part of the dinner thaali to guests staying at Ahilya Fort. From chancing upon Gajju, the heritage hotel’s resident florist at work, to the delicate calligraphy that announced that the salmon at lunch had been hand-carried by two long-time guests from Ireland.

Now in its 21st year, the festival celebrates the twin deities who define Maheshwar: the Narmada and Ahilyabai Holkar, the visionary 18th-century ruler who established Maheshwar as her capital. This year explored the theme of ‘Utpatti’, the Sanskrit word for genesis. Fittingly, all the six performances over the three-day festival were by musicians and dancers hailing from the state.

Conceived and hosted by the present-day custodian of the Holkar royal family, Richard Holkar, the festival is not a moveable feast. The river, the ghats, the battlements of the fort, the temples, and perhaps most of all the ancient elegance of the location, make for a unique historic and spiritual setting that is irreplaceable. Ahilyabai championed women’s empowerment, conservation and inclusivity — a focus on women’s education, the construction of dams, temples open to all castes — and this appears to inform the soul of the festival. As Richard explains, the objective has always been to give both artists and audiences an intimate and immersive setting distinct from the auditorium format.

Though it might baffle geographers, according to local legend, a line from the North Star to the Earth’s centre passes through Maheshwar, making it the ‘centre of the universe’. The Baneshwar temple, perched on a small island visible from the site of the performances, marks this spot. One has to believe Richard’s son Yeshwant Rao Holkar, managing partner at Ahilya Experiences, when he says there is an almost spiritual connection between the artist and the audience at this place.

The next morning, in a more intimate setting in the family’s personal courtyard within the fort, vocalist Dhani Gundecha spoke to audiences about her renowned family’s Dhrupad tradition. The oldest form of Indian classical music, used for chants in the Samaveda, it is considered inaccessible and rigid by many.

As someone who has recently returned to weekly Hindustani vocal lessons, I found it particularly illuminating to hear Gundecha speak about Dhrupad’s slow and deliberate expansion into a raag; and the challenges she faces as one of the few female exponents. Her accompanying musician, the pakhavaj exponent Dnyaneshwar Deshmukh, shared the legend of the instrument’s genesis: the sage Panini was drawn to the sound of rain falling on a lotus leaf and asked Vishwakarma, the divine architect, to recreate it.