At the Meherangarh Fort, I noticed the commercialized smiles on the faces of the guards and other staff members; if not for my previous experience with smiling faces, I would not be able to know that behind the trained smiles are people who will feel genuine about feeling friendly at any time, not only when called upon by their job to smile at a tourist.
There were at the Meherrangarh Fort and the Jaswant Thada, musicians who played while small children danced. Perhaps aged four, a little boy danced crudely, without smiling at all, squinting in the hazy sun, following the instructions his father spoke from behind his dilruba (fiddle) as he played. He instructed the boy to turn, to raise his arms, and then to hold out his hand for money from the people watching. At the Jaswant Thada, a young woman, scantly past pubescence, danced with vigor while her father played and her little brother danced. Her little brother danced and followed her direction, every one similar to the direction given to the younger boy at the Meherangarh Fort. Closer to the monument, another boy, much older than the previous two, about ten years old, beat the drum while he sang. Whenever tourists approached, his beat began and his voice carried throughout the grounds. Alone, he did not seem to need instruction, and he sang loudly, clearly, apparently well trained to know when he could rest his hands and voice, and when he should begin his music to entertain the tourists. He garnered many tips, in comparison to the other musicians, during the short time I watched.
We came upon four men who appeared to be soldiers at the fort. They sat crossed-legged in a recessed wall, three with shenai (flutes), and one with drums. In contrast to the other musicians, these men seemed to have made an impromptu decision to find their instruments, sit in the recession of the wall, and jam.
Some of the musicians' shoes are pictured below.
