malay

The happiness of small things!

2010-01-30T06:14:00.000-08:00

There was no trace of the postman as yet; usually he comes around this time. I was still in third standard and had just been introduced to the fascinating world of postal stamps. My count has not even touched a double figure but the madness had gripped me in totality. I would spend entire afternoon’s post late lunch after coming back from school admiring the many facets of each of them. Reading the every possible details and trying to get acquainted about the country became a habit. My fondness for capitals and currencies further added fuel to this newly acquired passion.

Our days at Chandigarh could definitely be termed as the most satisfying years; we, I and didi, were in school and had little worries. Life was simple but full of new discoveries; we were content and happy; A routine day started with the usual hustle bustle and hurried departure to catch the bus for school. There was always a rivalry between 3 BRD and 40 Wing – this rivalry was in terms of the quality of vehicle and also the timing. Usually the race is won by the group whose bus reports first, and usually we were on the losing side. 3 BRD Bus would always come second when the 40 Wing Bus had already left the spot with the winners. School was fun, right in the middle of the Air Force Station. In fact, some of the wings were intermingled with the bachelor billets of Airmen. Many times we could see the undergarments lazily lying on the loosely held strings. Those were the days of Unit Tests and I was doing great with my studies.

A good score at a unit test was enough to make me happy for the entire day. The maximum marks were 70 for each Term for each subject but usually two separate examinations of 35 marks were held at different times to make for the total. Vineet, Ashwini, Seema, Virender, JK, S Akilan, were some of my friends. The bread pakora at School canteen was also a favourite with me and didi as well. On some days, we would gather, at canteen to have bread pakoras. Didi was senior to me by two standards and for obvious reasons she used to be the custodian of one rupee coin that mom would hand over. Without fail, i would reach the canteen and relish each bite. “Mom can never make such pakoras” we used to say in unison. That was the type of honesty attached with childhood. Now, i know, anyone can make such pakoras; logic and intellect has taken over incredulous childish honesty.

I was on cloud nine; no it’s not for the high scores at Term Exams but a small piece of paper that had literally made my day. On my repeated requests, at last, the postman has turned up with two foreign stamps – one from New Zealand and the other from Denmark. The one from New Zealand had a beautiful painting titled “Lake Pukaki” by John Gully while the other had a speeding biker and a tile “VM Speedways”. I used to ponder why they have issued postal stamps on such trivial things. The quality of printing and paper was also exceptional, much superior to our Indian variety.

My next few went into inquiring about the geographical facts about these newly known countries. While i was still in euphoria, my friend S Akilan, gave me a puzzle that was too much for a third standard student. “This stamp has your name on it” he said handling over the stamp bearing “MALAYA” on it. But it indeed had Malaya on it and to the best of my knowledge there was no country by this name. The list of countries at the end of my ATLAS had no mention of this country even. At last, I concluded quite surely, that it was a fake, still decided to keep it as it had my name. I would know about the authenticity of the place and the stamp only a few years later. Likewise Magyar Posta, Hellas, Ostrich remained mysterious many years.

Life went on quietly for the next two years with those lazy post lunch sessions chewing Sugarcane; playing cricket with oil bat; losing the cricket matches; mango softie with those five rupee coins bearing Indira Gandhi; Sunday picnics to Rose Garden; Sarso ka Saag from Apni Mandi; Fudgy Stickers; Big Fun Chewing Gum that came with a photograph of a cricketer and runs/ wickets depending on the credentials of the individuals (There were rumours of guys who have collected 1000 runs and bagged a Cricket bat; never went into details and accepted it gullibly) Once mom promised to give me a 50 paisa if I go a nap in the afternoon. I found it difficult to sleep in those days. But I did that day, just at the thought of buying two big fun gums in the evening. The runs/ wickets were of some ordinary players; Kapil Dev used to be the much sought after one.

I had little idea that this initial engagement would come this far. From Chandigarh, we moved to Gwalior and we were admitted to another KV. But, this has no similarities with the preceding one. Here, the teachers and the students were all casual; No general knowledge, no philately, no numismatics, no extracurricular activity worth mentioning; this was coupled with the local mindset that created barrier between genders – separate sitting for boys and girls; nearly zero interaction even during the classes. I found it quite alien but had no options. Suranjan and Anirban became my first friends and soon the trio of Bong became famous for their academic exploits.

Coming back to the topic, the history of first postal stamp goes back to 1840, twenty years later than Hans Christian Orsted’s discovery of Electro Magnetic linkage. Sir Roland Hill, who was instrumental in bringing postal reforms, came up this idea with creation of Penny Black. Penny Black was printed on un-perforated sheet of paper, cut with scissors for sale. The total print run for this first adhesive stamp was 286,700 sheets with 68,808,000 stamps. But, Sir Hill had no idea that one day an experimental set-up at MIT in 1965 would make his discovery obsolete but not before the commercial success around 1990s. But, what he discovered survived for 150 years and caught the imagination of millions across the globe.

Stamps have been issued by different countries on a host of divergent concepts although it can be easily said that all countries must have issued at least one stamp on famous personalities. These included freedom fighters, sportsmen, industrialists, musicians, theatre personalities, poets, philosophers, historical figures and even Henna Patterns. Mahatma Gandhi’s indelible imprint not only on Indian Stamps but on many foreign stamps is quite a feat. His means of protest such as Satyagraha has even found place on the stamps. The other person matching the mahatma is Rowland Hill. Charlie Chaplin and Michelangelo have found place in Indian Stamps alongside Chaitanya Mahaprabu and Aamir Khusrau.

Other major subject for Stamps is without doubt - the Flora and Fauna of any country. National Animal and National Flower find special place in such releases. In India, a good number of stamps have been issued starting from the mangroves to the Bulbul. The initial releases on this subject where mono or bi-coloured and only by the 1980s Stamps with real Eastman colour hit the market.

When it comes to Historical monuments, India has no dearth of them and even if are not good at preserving the precious heritage, in terms of putting them on stamps has been taken care off quite decently. There are stamps on the Konarak Temple, Hampi Chariot, Sanchi Stupa, Golconda Fort, Chandragiri fort and many other ones. Most of the National Museums treasuring this heritage have also found mention in various issues. Salarjung Museum, the largest collection in the entire world put together by a single man, appeared in a release around 1987.

Academic Institutions feature regularly on Indian Stamps and it was a special occasion when one day scanning through my official mail, I found MITS on the Stamp. MITS (Madhav Institute of Technology & Science) was the place where I spend four long years during my bachelors. Although there are numerous engineering institutions across India far superior to ours, MITS won the race because of its illustrious history and political association of its patrons.

The concept of an engineering college came to the erstwhile maharaja of Gwalior Shrimant Jiwaji Rao Scindia immediately after independence. As he was aware of the fading royalty in the democratic days to come, he wanted to create something for the larger benefit of his populace and find place in their hearts. The scale of construction was huge – Foundation Stone was laid by none other than Rajendra Prasad in 1957 and on completion it was inaugurated by Sarvapalli Radhakrishanan in 1964. Time spend on finishing this fabulous sandstone edifice can give you an idea of its scale. In fact the maharaja left no stone unturned to make his college the best in the country – Machines were imported directly from GEC, London; Babcock & Wilcox, London and Haefely, Switzerland.

Initially the Scindias took personal care into the day to day happenings, the Institution, remained one of the best in India, but post 1980, the interest lost steam and the college became a victim. The management became shoddier by the day and standards kept on going southwards. When I enrolled for my bachelors in Electrical Engineering in 1996, without any prejudices whatsoever, it was quite like any B-Grade College in India, far below the Standards of IITs and the RECs. Castism and Regionalism were flourishing rampantly with no intrusion of the management to control the same. Anyhow with all this, although not all IITs and very few RECs have a postal stamp on them, MITS got this one, by hook or crook.

Other than the Academic Institutions many thematic bodies such as the Theosophical Society of India, Aga Khan Foundation, UPSC also finds place in Indian Postal Stamps. Jewellery had a rich tradition in princely India and the same has been beautifully put on stamps by a series dedicated to this art form. Nizam Jewellery, a spectacular collection of the erstwhile Hyderabad Nizams finds special place in this series.

The richness of Indian folk and Art forms such as Madhubani Paintings (of Bihar), Bidri ware (Persian Art from Bidar) have also found place on the pieces of paper. One thing is for sure that stamps are a world of knowledge in themselves and you need a tinge of inquisitiveness to appreciate the wide canvas of themes covered. I had no idea what bidri ware is when I first got my hand on this beautifully crafted 2 paisa stamps, neatly designed in monotone.

My encounter with Bidri ware came about at Bidar that has a rich history and fantastic mute monuments speaking about the grandeur of the bygone era. The Bidar Fort and Madarsa of Mahmud Gawan are masterpieces in their class; penetrate a little deeper one would know about the Persian influences that shaped up the Cultural canvas. Bidri Craftsmanship came from Persia just like the other architectural influences of slanted walls, use of acoustics as a defence mechanism and became famous. I would have loved to buy back a souvenir but could not because of the cost. Just imagine a piece of small paper had so much of importance and I bet every single theme depicted on postal stamps have a history that’s worth exploring.

Sporting Action has found its due place in the Stamps all over the World. Olympic, Commonwealth, and Asian Games have found expression on glossy sheets time and again. A sporty nation is a precursor for comprehensive development and progress in all arenas. Although, we can hardly compare our sportiness with a country like Australia efforts have been put in to develop the same. Next, comes the inadequately addressed areas of Health Care in an Indian perspective. Pulse Polio remains the favourite theme as for populous country like India Polio Eradication remains still a challenge. I still remember the resistance that was faced by the volunteers administrating the drops in Malda district of West Bengal.

Nostalgic warm associated with rail travel in India with the numerous options of Hill Trains and the engineering marvel of Konkan Railways finds their place in Indian Stamps. Darjeeling Railways (now a World heritage Property), Neral Matheran (now non-operational because of washing down of tracks; we had our share of travel by this train when in Mumbai), Electric locomotives all have found place in the list of numerous stamps release till date. In fact Railways remains a universal favourite when it comes to stamps, because of beautiful pictorial depiction and mass appeal.

Stamps stressing the defence capabilities of nation are equally important from the viewpoint of education the masses and entrusting confidence into them. Nearly all the units from Air Force (Squadrons & Wings) and Army (Light Infantry, Artillery) have got a stamp of their own. State of the Art fighter planes (GNAT), Strategic technologies (AWACS), combat mechanisms, and famous victories have found their due place on paper. Russia, previously NOYTA CCCP and the other communist nations are famous for coming up with stamps commemorating military events in a big way. Crimson Red is the other unmistakable feature of their stamps – signifying revolution. “Hail the Revolution!”

India, being an agriculturalist country having a predominantly agrarian economy has a plethora of stamps on Agriculture. Subjects as trivial as Irrigation by pumps, plucking of tea, white cotton and the Indian favourite Mango have found their place. These actually imbibe a sense amongst the masses that they remain centre staged while policy making and are pivotal to the development & emergence of the nation as a whole. This is also important to make the urban Indian understand and appreciate the role the agrarian community has played in creating a self reliant India. We must understand that both “India” & “Bharat” need each other and complement each other.

Energy Security is also close to our policy makers and accordingly to make the populace equally aware, a host of stamps have been issued – Solar Energy, Bio Gas, Hydro Electric Power – have come up quite early. Sam Pitroda may be name known to urban techies but his achievements have been put on postal stamps to stress upon the importance of Tele Communication and its relevance in modern world. But, slowly and definitely, that era has gone; for better or worst! but what has remained intact is my helplessness to take out these pieces of paper whenever, spot them, to augement my collection even to this date. Some love stories simply never end!

Kota - Rich Past and Bright Future!

2010-01-25T23:53:00.000-08:00

The well-maintained milestones informed us about the arrival of Kota, a city of rich historical background and great industrial achievements. Kota was actually carved out of Bundi by Maharaja Rao Ratan Singh for his second son Rao Madho Singh in 1631. His sense of justice and love for his son must have driven him to do so, as splitting a kingdom was not a norm in Rajputana except Shekawati. Usually one heir was chosen amongst the many legible ones or they had to fight out amongst themselves to decide about the next king. Such times were full of intrigues and never easy. Kurosawa tried to capture this nicely in his movie titled “Ran.” But, Ratan Singh would never have imagined that one day, Kota would overshadow, if not wipe out Bundi (all electrical engineers can relate this somewhat to the Lenz’s Law). Kota embraced modernity and industrialisation with open hands and today, if you ask 10 people whether they know Kota or Bundi in a better way, I am sure Kota will get a 10/10.

Kota boasts of being a hub for IIT aspirants, having the world’s largest fertilizer plant, a nuclear power plant, and being the fifth largest city in Rajasthan, whereas Bundi has gone into complete oblivion. Only hard core tourists end up at Bundi to get a rustic feel of rural Rajasthan, while Kota is a bustling city with a great future. Crossing the river Chambal, we nearly missed our way and after being misguided by many, we found the way to Garh Palace. During all this confusion and chaos, Maharaja of Jhalawar called up to know about the expected arrival, arrangement of beds, and other details. I was really impressed by his courteousness and down-to-earth attitude. Moving past the Kishore Sagar, we took the narrow and encroached lanes to reach the Garh Palace of Kota. Kishore Sagar, an artificial lake, means the same to Kota what lake Pichhola means to Udaipur. The likeliness continues with the building of palaces in each of them. But, in terms of beauty, there is no comparison whatsoever between the two.

Garh Palace, situated right in the middle of old fortified city, is a collection of Palaces. The design and defence mechanisms indicate that the palace must have been erected during peaceful times. Unlike Bundi, here only a gate followed by a moat with a bridge comes on the way to the main palatial complex. No Challenge could be made with this sorry state of defence. Leaving the driver, we moved into the well-maintained Garh Palace Complex. Here, too, elephants are in limelight, but this time no puzzle to engage you. The two different trunks come from both side to form the arch, unlike the curious case of Hathipol in Bundi that creates an illusion with interweaved trunks. The gate as well the ceiling was profusely painted in bright colours.

The many rooms around the main courtyard that once served as residence for the royals have been stuffed with objects that try to recreate the royal lifestyle. The first room has many interesting things including a washing machine, floating seat, a massive stuffed elephant. Next, we moved into the Diwan-e-Aam that had some exquisite murals done with glass all over the walls and ceilings as well. The royal armoury that was showcased on either sides of a passage brought on display some of the finest guns and swords. The lower levels had some stuffed man-eaters but what i found interesting was a Gharial skin and a candid B&W shot showing the maharajas of Kota, Bundi & Bikaner in a jovial mood.

Like its creation, Kota inherited the Art tradition that Bundi had and later developed its own identity. A small but impressive collection of Miniatures in Kota School were also put on display. Vishvadarshan Hathi struck out in the entire gallery for its imagination. We could have easily missed out the best kept secret, had we missed the guide whom we met at Bundi, escorting foreign tourists inside a closed passage. “Are you the same who dropped your lens?” he asked. Starting a conversation, I asked him about the hidden chambers of the palace. When I learned that the palace is worth a visit, I decided to have a look what if I had to take an extra ticket of Rs. 50 INR per head. Remember, you live only once, go all out!

What distinguished that forbidden chamber from others is (a) the high concentration of miniatures painted over years covering a vast array of subjects including Kipling, a nayika having a bath, Shrinathji of Eklingji, a royal court, (b) use of mirror and (c) lavishness & crafty display of ivory. Keeping track of the ticking clock, we left the complex after a photo-shoot. Nothing else was left on the agenda for Kota; may be some light snack and then a departure for Jhalawar was on the cards but not before having a glance at the Royal Cenotaphs at Keshar Bagh. We moved on and landed at the beautifully maintained park that was originally designed during the princely times quite like the Phool Bagh in Gwalior and Sayaji Baug in Vadodara. The swimming pool that once had royal visitors is in shambles today. The park was abuzz with idlers; schoolchildren enjoying rides on their way back from school; local lovebirds scampering for bushes; some families on picnic. We had nothing to do and eat as the monkey menace right at the parking forced dad to abandon whatever we had in the vehicle itself. It was already lunchtime but we decided to skip the lunch and leave for Jhalawar.

Just as we took the circumferential road around the Kishore Sagar, we stopped for a while at Keshar bagh. Many times I have commented about the historical & heritage consciousness of we Indians, but somehow I cannot stop myself from doing so whenever I saw blatant ignorance time and again. This park quite common in concept amongst all Hindu princely states was basically a burial cum memorial ground. The cenotaphs were quite packed around the Bagh and in great state of preservation. Altough the saddening part is that now this place has been taken over by dubious sadhus, and babas who indulge in narco-pleasures. The place has become a resting place for criminals and anti-social elements, if not lovers. A water channel that runs through the bagh and meets the Kishore Sagar is now used for Bath. I somehow was concluding that Kota has disparaged its tourism potential for Industrial growth, however, what one needs to understand that both can go hand-in-hand with corporate houses adopting these uncared edifices.

We went in for a round around the Kishore Sagar primarily to shoot the Jag Mandir and the birdlife. Although the bird life was impressive with some gorgeous pelicans but what was disturbing is the sorry state of the lake. It was full with debris – human and industrial; thermocol blocks, Rubber tubes, human excreta and what not. There was an all pervasive foul smell caused by the process of rot that goes on unabated. Sur Sagar in Bikaner was much in the same state when it actually came on the election manifesto and was cleaned up. Jag Mandir that sits amidst this lake and built with red sandstone looks great but loses its photogenic quotient because of the high level of suspended particles in air that makes the pictures blunt & dull. I tried my best and moved on by some hunger quenching by “Gat.” The drive from Kota to Jhalawar was relaxing as post Kota the roads were empty with negligible traffic. The region was quite green with many rivulets irrigating the fertile patches. Soon we entered the Jhalawar District with open cast mines on either side. Quarries offering raw stone slabs and chiselled stone pieces came up regularly. Population was feeble and the vastness was overwhelming. Cluster of village households came up and went by quietly. The abundance of stone could be gauged from the fact that even boundaries for households & quarries have been made by stacking waste pieces of sandstone slabs.

Beautiful Bundi

2010-01-25T22:15:00.000-08:00

I am starting this memoir on a sombre note, as just now, I came to know about the sad demise of the last scion of Bundi State. My introduction to Ranjit Singh and the royal house of Bundi is quite new but surely an everlasting one. Bundi was always on my wish list, but it never happened. By the time we reached Bundi, I started to develop some back pain because of the fatigue. As they say, “No pain No Gain” The sudden appearance of the delicately lit Garh Palace made its entry into the frame and the pain vanished in a whisker. What a view! The many layers of Garh Palace sitting over the cluttered town of Bundi were something straight out of a fairy tale. My eyes kept glued to this visual feast as we lost the diversion and moved ahead on the National Highway towards Tonk. There was no one on the road to guide us until one vagabond came our way and asked us to drive back. The national highway actually skirts around the settlement of Bundi and offers great panoramic views of the entire town.

Taking the diversion close to the Nawal Sagar and moving past the narrow lanes asking intermittently for direction to Garh Palace, we at last landed at parking lot. The area was totally deserted except for a few dogs. Unwinding the luggage soon we all become acquainted with the place. The solitude was perfect to simply sit down around a campfire and talk nostalgic things. I could catch that tinge of fear when dad remarked, “No one’s here except us!” Soon the reason became evident, as we chatted with the attendants. Swine Flu & Terrorist Threats had created such a non-congeniality that number of foreign tourists have dwindled considerably. Bundi is not that famous amongst Indian traveller for unknown reasons even though it has much more to offer than the designer forts in Rajputana.

Post dinner we sat down under the open sky with Garh Palace in the background – lit in bright yellow. This one rivalled the Sonar Kella in Jaisalmer, in every respect. Hathi Pol looked brilliant with its elephants. The fort standing as mute spectator it seemed has to say so many things. I spent some time speaking with this strikingly appealing edifice while everyone moved into the rooms because of increasing chill. Next morning, I got up before Sunrise to capture the first rays kissing the Garh palace from the NH that offers the best views at dawn. There was a sound in the kitchen and soon Bharat came out with morning tea. It was still dark but a reddish glow could be seen on the flat high rise walls on the left hand side of the fort facade. Having done with the tea and photography, i left for the NH on foot. The busy market square was devoid of any hustle bustle; it was silent,

all along. Moving past the hordes of hotels on either sides of the street, i reached the Nawal Sagar. The waters were placid and the atmosphere quite. A few early risers could be seen walking in the nearby garden. Spending some time photographing the landscape, I moved towards the other bank of Nawal Sagar. On a closer examination, i found that the water actually full of filth and waste that can hardly be categorized. It had everything from polyethylene bags to card boards, human as well inhuman waste – it was simply pathetic quite like the Sur Sagar in Bikaner that used to smell foul because of decomposition of waste on a continual basis. Now, thanks to Vasundhara Raje, the tank has been cleaned at last. I don’t know what has happened to our civic senses. Why do we look forward to the governmental authorities for everything – Population Control, Contraception and Terrorism? Let us take control of issues that we can jointly take up.

Showing the ticket to the gate keeper with a wicked smile, we moved into the Bundi’s famous Garh Palace. Taking the steep steps on the right hand side I reached the next level. The pass ways were spacious when compared to the ones in Bundelkhand but the rooms were pretty ordinary. Whatever, had originally been there had been stripped off, leaving behind only the superstructure. The was a sense of abandonment written all over the place – falling doorways; ripped off walls, faded disfigured murals all stand in mute testimony to a glorious past that only remains in imagination. A bunch of bats have made it their shelter causing a lot of intolerable smell. Whatever has remained after this disdainful treatment does indicate the glory that once Bundi reached.

The construction is rock solid; ornamentation is secondary but even there no efforts have been spared to create a masterpiece. The finely chiselled stone blocks that form the main structural spine must have been locally quarried. Hence the availability of raw material never came as a hindrance and so was for the sculptors, who I presume were local who created these exquisite pieces of quality workmanship. Ornamentation has been taken care by primarily two means (a) Stone cut structural pieces like pillars, support brackets, Jallis, and (b) Plentiful use of miniatures that would define what Bundi School of miniature is all about. The plan is quite simple; palatial complexes around an open courtyard with hidden but broad and high rise stair cases leading to the upper floors. This palace has a close resemblance with the one at Karauli, in terms of thematic, orientation, use of mural and location of stair cases. At many places even, the very basic concepts of symmetrical patterns have been dispensed off.

Most of the rooms on the front side of the palace directly above the Hathi Pole are in absolute disrepair and needs immediate restoration. A corridor protruding along the walls of these rooms leads to the large hall. Close to this hall and facing the Hathi Pole is a large hall meant for ceremonies. A marble throne was also kept in line with the main gate that was used for such royal ceremonial gatherings. Moving past this hall, we entered a labyrinth of zig-zag up-down passages that took us to hall that had beautifully crafted pillars with painted elephantine support brackets. Next we moved to the famed “Phool Mahal” or Flower Palace. This palace has no connection what so ever with its name but is actually a treasure trove of miniatures. Of particular interest is the main entrance lintel formed by a set of four elephants, the miniatures depicting armies waging wars with elephants leading the charge and the magical mosaic patterns on the floor. The spacious open balconies on the southern face of the Garh palace offers some of the best aerial views of Nawal Sagar.

Taking the neatly laid passage we reached the open courtyard at the South-Eastern corner of the palace. This courtyard offers a grand view of the Palace Interiors. The elevation advantage makes it an envious photo shoot location. We did a lot of family photographs after leaving the place through a straight flight of spacious but hidden steps that brought us to an open courtyard in front of another of those Mahals. This one had the same flair when it came to beautifying the walls with murals. Red dominates the canvas although intermediate streaks of bright yellow do break the monotony. Ornamentation for wooden doors must have made the elephants to run for their lives as finely crafted ivory pieces have been delicately placed on the wooden planks to create something superlative.

Just as we were about to leave for Chitrasala – the main arsenal of Bundi miniatures, the palace guard came to us an offered us help in trafficking us through a secret passage, closed to tourists, for a mere Rs. 20/-. For sure, the deal was worthy as it saved a trek of around half a kilometre multiplied by 4 Adults and 2 Children. The passage actually is a vertical set of steps that start from the North-Eastern corner of Garh Palace part that is still with the Maharaja and open up in the garden of Chitrasala, now maintained and cared by ASI.

The difference was prominent in all senses – the gardens were beautifully maintained, the area was clean and wooden supports have placed along the open steps. The immediate query that cropped up in my mind – why does the maharaja does not give away the entire palace to ASI? What are his apprehensions in doing so? And now, when maharaja is no more what will happen to his personal property that includes this massive crumbling fort as well. I don’t know what Maharaja Ranjeet Singh has written down on his will, but I feel art connoisseurs across the whole must be able to see what lies hidden in the remaining closed chambers. Even by conservative standards, I feel, not even 50% has been made open for public viewing. Reasons are unknown, but the guard did tell us that part needs repairs and is abandoned. The argument is hard to accept as the chambers with entry prohibition look in good shape at least from outside. What is that the Maharaja is trying to hide? Satyajit would definitely have written a good short story on this quite like Fritz.

Chitrasala is to be seen by own eyes to believe and appreciate what mural painting is all about. Of the many schools of miniature painting, Bundi had a special place when it comes to this craft of artistic expressions. In the schools spread across Rajputana what is even more interesting that even in dull and monotonous climatic conditions, art has blossomed and attained a full bloom. The painted interiors of Sona Chandi ki dukan in Mahansar (Shekhawati) are in absolute contrast with the landscape. What all one can see around Mahansar is thorny shrubs sprinkled irregularly over the sandy humus. Whereas the painting inside are bright and vibrant, full of life, even today after a century. This indeed is amazing and forces you to scratch your head.

The colours that have been used predominantly include Blue, Green and yellow. Red that otherwise finds over usage in Rajputana miniature is subdued and ignored. The motives generally include (a) Hindu Mythological stories (b) Royal lifestyle (c) Nature and (d) fillers such as borders, centre pieces etc. that help in making the canvas look complete and continuous. One thing that is of particular interest is the way artists have put the subject on a background. “Purple Fringe” is what you get when to try to shoot stark differences in light with a low-end camera. Here the creator has taken dark background for the entire contour of the figure that fades down uniformly into the background. I found this unique about Bundi Style however, my knowledge about Indian Art can only be termed amateurish and hence no conclusions shall be arrived only by reading this travelogue.

Miniatures in Chitrasala were probably done when the Bundi School reached its zenith. The beautiful expressions take Krishna as the model and his frivolous activities have found places on the walls of Chitrasala that served as a Zenana during its use. Literally, not a single square inch rather square millimetre has been spared and the execution is flawless. Walls, Ceilings, carved niches, arches – faces as well the spread have been covered. At places, reflecting mirrors have been laced to add a variety. Some of the rework that could be distinctly segregated does match the initial quality of workmanship. There’s no point elaborating on the individual painting as the best way to appreciate them is to see and not read about them.

Leaving behind the Nawal Sagar, we moved towards the Rani-Ki-Vav. Passing the first cluttered stretch that has old havelis - now turned into guest houses, dharmsalas, temples and grocery shops, was really nightmarish but this time it offered no resistance. An old temple under active worship falls just on the sides of a turn where the passage shrinks further. The total graveness was further worsened by the habit of parking two-wheelers right on the front of these shops that has become ingrained in the people of Bundi. This trait can easily be applied to the entire north India without giving a second thought. Just as we reached the NH, the Bundi Fort appeared on the horizon with sun god hitting it straight; the blue sky further added to the drama as we moved on to the Vav.

Vavs must have been in vogue among the royal women during the medieval times as the association of vavs with the throne queen is not new and isolated. Gujarat that has the highest concentration of these water harvesting social joints with vavs at Patan (with gigantic proportions) and Adalaj that could leave you speechless with their harrowing depth and exquisite stone carving. This one though not as massive and ornamented, when compared to them, still finds mention amongst the largest in terms of its linear layout scales.

Sitting close to a busy roundel, this vav now is maintained by ASI in a rather protective way. Steel Grills have been put right at the mouth of this vav with a locked gate. This view was enough to make my heart crumble with pain at the very thought of not able to see it. Soon a caretaker appeared like a god and without being asked opened the door and asked me to write down my details on a shabbily maintained register. It was as if Christian Barnard has come to my rescue himself. The proportions are indeed massive to drive one to awe and can leave some stiff necks as well. The two side walls are supported with a wall that has three openings with trabeate architectural lintels spanning the gap. The squatness of these openings has been taken care with the positioning of elephantine figurines on either side followed by filigree creating a shape of inverted “V”. This has stark resemblance with the filigree that one can see at Astrologers seat at Sikri Complex however lacks the depth that the Mughal counterpart has. The same streak has been applied on all the three opening at two layers. In between these layers, there are niches with temple like spires on the main walls on both sides. Post this gate, there is no visible signs of ornamentation however to maintain the theme, elephant figurines have been places at the face of the main shaft. Every step took us deeper into the sub-zero elevations; it was silent and peaceful. Largely the vav is divided into two levels but the height of each level is much more when compared to a conventional vav. This concept gives a grand appearance to the entire structure. Had the same depth been traversed down with smaller levels with more number of levels, the spaciousness might have been less.

At the lower depths, the construction is plain and flat except for a few niches that served as small shrines. Even today, local people offer flowers at these shrines as a routine ritual and blessings are sought by newlywed couples for a happy married life. Our decision to visit the vav at noon paid us as the light was piercing right deep into the bottom. I would have loved to spend some more time at the vav but we were already running late from the scheduled lunch. Freshly drawn stuffed chilly pakoras came handy to put off the initial fire in the belly.

Sitting idle I glanced through the pages of my handy travel guidebook although I have already gone through the chapters on Bundi and Jhalawar on numerous occasions before; I was probing for the details for the affinity of Bundi Royals to the British. Association of Bundi maharajas with the British residents was well-lubricated by arranging leisure shooting parties and other such prevalent means. In fact, when Raja Bishan Singh (1773-1821) contracted cholera and lying on his death bed, he trusted Charles Tod over his other family members and relatives for taking care of his immature son, Ram Singh. This was a politically correct decision as Tod’s presence would mean no difficulty in getting the resident’s nod for Ram Singh to be the next Maharaja. Ram Singh who developed under the tutelage of seasoned Tod went on to became on the most successful ruler who worked for his subjects, introduced reforms and gained immortality for his uninterrupted rule of 68 years.

This passion for English continued for the rest of the rulers to come and the penetration could be understood by the simple fact that the royal prince and princess had an English name other than the traditional Rajput one. While the Maharaj Ranajit Singh as “Prince Peter” as second identity, his sister Maharajkumari Mahendra Kumari had Princess Kitten as her English name. This had actually become quite a practice amongst the elite in those days with “Mookhopadhya” becoming “Mukherjee”; “Chattopadhaya” “Chatterjee”; “Bandopadhyaya” “Banerjee”; “Basu” “Bose”; “Mitra” “Mitter” and more famously “Thakur” becoming “Tagore.” I would have preferred “Mandle” had I given same circumstances and oppurtinity.

The idea of viewing sunset at Jait Sagar drove us again and soon we landed at the lake behind the Main hill that houses Garh Palace. Jait Sagar became famous because of its association with Rudyard Kipling who came to Bundi as a royal guest and was lodged in the royal hunting resort “Sukh Niwas” sitting at ease on one on its banks. It was here that Kipling got inspired to pen down his famous novel “Kim”. Kipling who enjoyed great fame amongst the British intellect for his writings still remains the youngest person to get noble prize in literature. This can give you an idea of what Kipling did to the advancement and spread of English language during those colonial days.

What Kipling saw in those days could hardly be imagined today. He visited Bundi around 1900 when this entire area was nothing more than a jungle – oozing of wildlife. I can only imagine the tranquillity that Kipling got during his lazy days at “Sukh Niwas.” British people had that taste that we Indians can hardly think off. I am desperately looking for a copy of “Kim” to know more about Hurree Chunder Mookherjee and Kimball O'Hara. I can only feel jealous about them and that would not help me in any way. The modern park bordering the lake and facing “Sukh Niwas” initially looked quite morose but the place was not that bad actually. The presence of water has made the entire area green that makes it quite unlike Rajputana. A variety of birds were busy finding inspects to feed on. It was a relaxing dusk as we spent some more time doing nothing but appreciating the Mother Nature with A&A busy with a slip and jammed play swirl. Taking a few parting shots of the “Sukh Niwas” with the fading sun in the backdrop while on move, we left the area for our Hotel. I, didi, and Mom dropped in at the market to buy a piece of Bundi Miniature as a souvenir. I wanted just one but ended up buying five of them.

A desire was still left in my otherwise full heart and that was to photograph the Bundi Royal Enclave with lights on against a pitch dark sky. It was impossible with a hand held camera to shoot with the dismally low lights. At last deciphering the embedded wisdom, I did a Jaisalmer Act with camera grounded and “AUTO” mode “ON.” I expected better results from Nikon, but Tamron won it handsomely. Leaving a place is always painful and full of melancholy; many thoughts came and went by quietly. What is that makes Bundi Special – Tagore could have penned poems on any other fort in the Rajputana. This was definitely not the most militarily strategic or had great wars associated with it; i feel it is the whimsical attitude, stubborn arrogance and a complete indifference with the contemporary that makes its special. It belonged to our own world but very different from us. Even Kipling, when first saw this mammoth creation, went on to conclude that such a creation is not humanly possible and must have been work of some goblins. This sturdiness has been somewhat wetted and softened by the salubrious climate that also brought in a sense of beauty and art that is unrivalled in the entire Rajputana. Following, Tagore and Kipling, Satyajit chose Bundi when it came to showing a prosperous kingdom. Those B&W shots that appear in Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne are reminiscent of Bundi in late 1960s with flourishing paddy fields. Ray Chose Kumbhalgarh that has the distinction of being the second largest fortification in the world, for his third sequel tilted Goopy Bagha Phire elo; the man had a perfectionist eye; Hats off to the genius. We don’t know whether we all shall ever be able come back together, but I do believe firmly that I will surely revisit Bundi, the only part that remains uncertain is when?

Jhalawar - The heart of Hadoti

2010-01-25T21:00:00.000-08:00

For those who had any amount of faith in the gun salute nomenclature started by the British to create a relative standing amongst the numerous principalities spread across India, a 13-gun salute state, like Jhalawar, was hardly of any interest. The primary reason for this categorization where the British Queen had 101 gun salutes and the viceroy entitled only to 31, and a mere 21 being the highest endowed to Indian kings, was to create a sense of their own superiority and adding fire to the prevailing rivalry amongst Indian states. These nomenclatures were followed up diligently without fail at all imperial gatherings. I don’t know what protocol was followed during the Delhi durbars and the photography sessions afterwards as literally there was a jostle to be photographed prominently. The poor kings from small principalities could hardly show their fantastically done attires adorned with fabulous jewels and had to be content with only facial coverage. But, life is much more other than a gun-salute count for sure.

Creation of present Jhalawar State in 1838 is a study in itself. By this time, British rule was well-established and wars were virtually out of sight. Then, what lead to this formation; I believe political manoeuvres and clever negotiations with the Political agents must have been behind a hard bargain that lead to reorganization of Kota State. One possible tactful reason could be to clamp down the expanding boundaries of Kota. But, whatever be the reasons, Jhalawar state saw the light of the day and found its own way in the days to come. Peace and Prosperity remained primal focus and that could easily be seen in today’s Jhalawar.

My introduction to Jhalawar Royal family took place at the “Music in the Park” live concert wherein Sitar Maestro Pandit Ravi Shankar, his talented daughter Anoushka and multi-faceted tabla player Bickram Ghosh. Before the main concert, a documentary was screened with help of a LCD projector by Mark Kidel that kicked off with Panditji’s initial days in Varanasi and his relationship with his father. “He worked for the state of Jhalawar in Rajasthan”, Panditji recollected about his father. I immediately clubbed Jhalawar along with Bundi for my forthcoming visit to Hadoti. The other reason to include Jhalawar was driven by my passion for forts; i was eager to see Gagron. But, I had no idea that Jhalawar minus Gagron is a place worth visiting. The palace staff was pregnant about our arrival and they all came forward as soon we moved closer to the palace. The atmosphere was simply mesmerising with the last rays of sun fading out. We were escorted to the palace guest house all decked up for our arrival. The rooms were spacious and had an unmistakable feel of that bygone era; high ceilings, spacious interiors, imported electric fittings, seasoned teak furniture and some framed memorabilia. Soaking in the royalty we enjoyed the evening tea along with pakoras at the northern veranda. I was busy photographing the interiors when a peacock feather kept on the study drew my attention. Another photograph showing a native holding a dead Gharial on his back was a real masterpiece in terms of presenting the lifestyle of that era. Despite the fondness of Indian maharajas for Rolls & Royce, the maharaja of Jhalawar had opted for a Talbot. The receipts for the same along with the mascot designers’ bill have been framed and placed on wall for to cater to the heritage enthusiasts like me. Just imagine toady we go to a showroom, discuss the EMI and get a car but in those days it what an elaborate exercise to buy and transport a car.

The next day started quietly with a stroll around the evasive campus of Prithvi Vilas Palace. The genesis of this edifice must have been the western modernity that was experienced by the royals all over India. The congested palaces no longer appealed to them and westernism came to their rescue. Indo-Saracenic was the name given to such form of architecture that resulted from the experimentation of western architects with the native building materials incorporating local influences with gothic revival style. While Charles Mant and R. F. Chisholm were making palaces for the Gaekwads, the Scindias chose Filose when it came to designing a modern palace. Wodeyars chose Henri Irwin, while the Frederick William Stevens & George Wittet were busy leaving a colonial imprint on the metropolis of Bombay. Prithvi Vilas is though not a lavish exercise of that scale; it is a rather solemn creation quite like the palaces that I saw in Karauli. The palace complex that was designed as an outhouse occupies a total of 150 acres with a square lotus moat that encircles the main residential building. The plan is like a grid; the guest house meant for royal guests is on the eastern side.

Finishing off breakfast on scheduled time, we left for the majestic Gagron fort with Babloo as our guide and escort. The ride through the narrow irregular roads took us to the city outskirts. Soon, a fortified structure appeared on the horizon. Moving in line with the fortified walls we reached a gate that what closed for unknown reasons. The main arterial road running through the fortress took us to the last strategic point on the eastern side. Here, there were two major bastions that had enough ammunition stocks to prevent any military advances.

Gagron is a classical example of Jal Durg that is enviably placed atop a hill surrounded by vast waters of rivers Kali Sindh & Ahu further adding to its defence. Although they remain shallow during the summers the difference in elevation gives a strategic advantage to the occupant in observing the invaders and targeting them. This natural defence from three sides and with a solidly defended fourth side with apt positioning of bastion and dual gates, Gagron remained in demand right from its initial days of fortification. Although the initial fortification took place somewhere in the 8th Century, the current remains look mainly from around 15-16th cen

tury. The looks from the top were amazing and covered a good distance because of elevation that made the life simpler for the sentries guarding this post. To views encompassed a typical laid back village lifestyle; a local girl returning back with her herd of gaots village women bathing in the water, a bunch of water pelican busy fishing.

Garh Palace inside the fortified walls of Jhalawar was our next destination. This used to be royal residence during the princely times but now with the Indian government. While in use this surely was one of the most exotic offices with a fabulous display of painting on walls and ceiling done with paint & mirror. Today the offices have shifted to newly created sandstone block of “Mini Secretariat” leaving behind it deserted and uncared for. The new office came into existence because of Shrimati Vasundhara Raje Scindia, then chief minister of Rajasthan and presently a member of legislative assembly from Jhalrapatan. Her son Shri Dushyant Singh is the sitting member of parliament representing Jhalawar.

I have already witnessed what public use of historical monuments can lead to at the Raj Mahal in Orchha that was used as a school and lead to disfiguration of most of the murals in the lower levels. God has not endowed everyone with the same sense of care and sensitivity. Here also it’s a picture of disdain; what is disturbing is that the damage is irrevocable. We entered the palace taking permission from the officials posted purely for security reasons. “There’s nothing to see actually, even then you want you can go,” the man said courteously. All of the rooms in lower levels and most of them in first floor have been ripped off beyond recognition. Honestly, I had lost any hopes of finding anything worthy. Babloo took us right to the top of the main entrance adorned with a rectangular chhatri at centre and two round chhatris at both frontal corners. While we glanced the workmanship remorsefully for the complete state of disrepair.

Maharaja Bhawani Singh who is credited with the creation this palatial complex was an illustrious character who travelled globally and read widely. His knowledge helped the transformation of Jhalawar into a modern state. Bhawani Natyashala, is also a handiwork of this multi-faceted maharaja. Here at this theatre he staged plays ranging from Shakespeare to Shakuntala. His exposure to western ways and philanthropic works made him the most progressive maharaja that Jhalawar ever had. But sadly he received an identical fate just as Bahadur Shah Zafar and had the misfortune of not getting buried in the Indian soil; he died at Aden, Yemen and was cremated there in 1929. Post Bhawani Singh a traditional of education and pursuance of knowledge was ingrained in the royal family. The present maharaja Chandrajit Singh Dev Bahadur who played as our host in proxy was a tennis champion during his college days and now stays in Delhi with his family.

Jhalrapatan owes its presence on the geographical map to Zalim Singh, who although an outsider, was a sound administrator and remained at the helm of affairs at Kota State for forty five years. With his prudent lead the state became prosperous and he became the most trusted general for the Kota royals. To payback what Zalim Singh had done for the state, it was decided to carve out a separate state for his descendants and that’s how Jhalawar came into existence. Today, Jhalrapatan, nothing more than a fortified sleepy town with a strong rural flavour, is famous for the 11th Century Sun Temple that finds its place as the best pieces of medieval Indian architecture.

Sun temples have an interesting myth associated with them. It is believed that the city that houses a sun temple gets ruined. This happened with Martand in Kashmir; Modera in Gujarat; Konarak in Orissa and in more recent times Gwalior in Madhya Pradesh. Jhalrapatan is no exception as it has not improved an iota since the medieval times. The same unhurried pace, lack of knowledge and dogmatism everything lasts till date. Jain Temple en route to Sun Temple was our first halt in the fortified settlement of Zalim Singh. The temple’s antiquity goes a century back to 11th century. Taking a parikrama and some snaps we moved on to the main attraction of Jhalrapatan – the sun temple.

The grandeur of this temple indicates the glory that this place once had but today it’s all history. Parking the vehicle at the congested narrow lanes we reached the main gate only to know that the temple is closed. To make the best out of the situation, I decided to have a long shot first with my Nikon 18-55 mm and then some close-ups with Tamron 70-300 mm. By the time I finished off my photo session, I saw a few visitors percolating inside the temple through the side gate. Egregiously following them, we made our way into the Mahamandapa in front of the closed Garbh Griha. The mandapa was quite like Modera but it was nowhere when it came to the quality of workmanship. This was partially because of the feeble or no maintenance that came its way.

The major distinguishing features that this temple has are (a) placement of Jharokhas with overhanging ceiling in Bengal style (adopted at Mandore Cenotaphs) at the top of the three entrance gates (b) the layout follows the pattern of a cross (like Chaturbhuj Temple in Orchha) (c) positioning of human figurines at the first elevation in folded leg sitting postures (they don’t look like dwarapalas for sure). The quality of reddish sandstone used is of inferior quality when came to working with chisel and hammer. The granular bonding does not support finer intricacies as done with yellow sandstone at Modera. Wrapping off the temple tour, we moved towards our last destination for the day not before wasting some time with didi buying lacquer bangles and Babloo bringing a fibre like sweet.

Raen Basera, our last destination for the day, was basically a timbre house put on display at an exhibition in Lucknow that drew the attention of the Maharaja. The timbre structure had been constructed from ascu treated pinewood and put up for display by the Forest Research Institute in Ruskin’s Dehradun. The FRI, as it is better known, was set up by the Omni-curios British to study the Himalayan flora and fauna that covers a whooping 4.5 square kilometres with some extravagantly styled Greeko-Roman Architecture by C.G. Blomfield employing neat mason work. Today, it is used as a Training centre for the trainee under the Indian Forest Service. I had fond memories of a walk through wide walkways and peeping into its seemingly endless corridors with a senior officer of UPCL during one of my official tours.

Coming back to the idea of Raen Basera; well! It is said that the maharaja wanted a secluded place post his retirement days and this timber house fitted his imagination. The double story house that originally had a plinth area of 3500 square feet had 3 bed rooms, 1 drawing and 1 dining room. Some additions were later made to accommodate a kitchen, a bath room and a lounge. A framed introductory page signed by Rai Bahadur, B.A., Ll. B, Dewan, Jhalawar State dated 25th April 1940 is put on display for the inquisitive ones. Future holds no promise for this structure quite like the rest as in-decision has been looming large over for the past few years. We were informed that RTDC, state tourism Development Corporation, has been made responsible for its upkeep and they plan to make it a heritage hotel. The idea sounded unfeasible as with already feeble number of tourists seeping into Jhalawar, only serious adventure enthusiasts would go for a place about a half hour drive from main city centre in complete isolation from mankind.

Seeing the interiors that no longer had original shine and grace, I moved to the small garden in front of Raen Basera. The fading sunshine made it a perfect as I tried to capture what the maharaja dreamt of. To keep in touch with time, one sun dial has also been placed in the middle. The thought of capturing Prithvi Niwas Palace at dusk drove us back to Jhalawar through the mustard fields. A group of camels with their master turbaned with the brightest colours made it even rewarding. Relaxing in the lawn around the fountain after taking off the socks felt heavenly. While the palace staff placed plastic moulded chairs for us to sit we opted in favour of the soft grass.

Although, my penchant for heritage properties has taken me to some of the fabulously maintained Havelis, British Dak Bunglows, Palaces modelled on Indo-Saracenic lines, across India, Jhalawar was an out-of-this-world experience with its lotus moat and dancing peacock. A would definitely revisit this place in near future. So next time when you are in Hadoti, please include this destination in your itinerary to explore the heart of Hadoti.

Jodhpur - A saga of valour and obedience

2009-11-12T20:12:00.000-08:00

Finishing off my official obligations in the evening, I had to stretch hard to catch my train to Jodhpur. “At last, I am going to see the majestic mehrangarh” I said to myself. Jodhpur had been on my wish list for quite a long time but the time never came. It was a comfortable ride of around 5 hours in an air-conditioned chair car. Close to reaching Jodhpur, I inquired a few co-passengers about the availability of auto rickshaws at late night, as our train was scheduled to reach Jodhpur by 2300 hrs. They assured me of finding ample means to move around throughout the night. As always, true to its reputation, the train was late by 20 minutes and I landed at Jodhpur by 2345 hrs. Faithfully sticking to my trusted and tested travel companion – lonely Planet, I decided to move to Yogi's Rajpurohitji ki Haveli with apprehensions of finding any room to stay. The thought of being served with dinner at midnight actually never came to my mind and that’s why I took a packet of Good day biscuits and a bottle of drinking water to stack up my empty abdomen.

Passing through the narrow congested streets of Jodhpur, I reached the Haveli. The manager was just about go to his bed when I asked him, “Koi kamra milega kya? He said, “why not? Please have a look and then you can decide. At that moment of time wasting any more time finding a hotel was a not only foolish but an idiotic idea and the room that he offered was a cool one, a real value for money. The deal was struck at Rs. 300/- per day. Hesitantly, I asked, “Kuch khaney ko milega kya?” nearly sure of a negative response. “Ha sahaab, kyon nahi, aap hamarey mehmaan hai, zaroor milega”, he replied with enthusiasm. He told me to wait in the roof top restaurant while he moved into the kitchen to see what all can be prepared in the minimum time. I made my way to the open and airy roof top through the cramp stairs; it was just perfect for a candle light dinner, at midnight. It was a great first sight of the mehrangarh - right from its foothills. The mighty mehrangarh was silent, and soothing to the eyes. Slender high rise bastions, with chisel fine mason work were quite unique to this Rajputana stronghold. a serenading calm prevailed over the whole area; only vocals that one could hear was chanting of local people mourning death of one of their owns.

His staff had already gone to bed by this time after a tiring days work. Pulling up a few of them, he offered me a platter of “aloo ki subzi” with “garam roti.” Food was good and I literally gorged upon it; he kept on supplying me the rotis and I stopped just short of a double digit count. After finishing off my much desired dinner I thanked the manager and he took my leave while I decided to spend some more time smoking cigarette and appreciating the moonlit fort. I could land up in my cozy bed only by 0125 hrs with my mobile alarm set at 0530 hrs. It was a conscious decision to catch the rising sun and the fort, bathed in the soft early morning light. Every thing went as planned and I climbed up to reach the highest available point at the roof top, welcoming the sun. It was simply superb, and very difficult for me to describe the magic of mysterious colours in words, with my limited share of vocabulary. Since, I feel, I am better at photography than writing travelogues my pictures can give you a more accurate description of the early morning drama that left me spell bound. The Jodhpur clock tower and Umaid Bhawan Palace could be easily identified through the suspended dust and fiery fog. After quite some minutes I found that I was not alone in my moment of madness, an angrez had quietly joined me.After a brief nap to compensate for that break in sleep followed by a freshening bath, I decided to have my breakfast, and flag off my maneuvers for the day. While, having the breakfast, I showed the young manager my early morning exploits on my digicam. Like always, my research was complete, and well-planned. I decided to kick-off my day from the marble monument named Jaswant Thada, just north of mehrangarh fort. Jaswant Thada, named after one of the famous rulers of Jodhpur, Jaswant Singh II is pristine creation in marble that also stands testimony to the relative peace that prevailed over Marwar. Jaswant Singh II is known for his development activities in the region that helped the local economy. But, not all great men meet a matching end, and the same happened with Jaswant. Jaswant Singh’s favour for the moderate mughal prince Dara Shikoh as the new Mughal Emperor was something Aurangzeb couldn’t digest. A tumultuous situation rose with rumors of Shah Jahan’s death leaking out from Delhi.

Aurangzeb, who was posted as Governor at Aurangabad, marched towards Delhi with support of his brother, Murad Baksh. Jaswant decided to fight out the joint raiding armies of Aurangzeb and Murad, at Dharmatpur near Ujjain. Sadly, Jaswant lost the battle and after a fierce and bloody tug-of-warm, with many murders and few kidnappings, Aurangzeb, finally became Mughal Emperor in 1659. Jaswant Singh was in a helpless situation and apprehending a harsh treatment from his new boss. And it happened quite soon; Jaswant Singh was sent to the North Western frontier at Afghanistan to lead the mughal army. Faced with dry chilly winds and hostile climatic conditions, he died in 1680.Looking at the architectural features that dominantly have Hindu motifs, one can easily derive the religious affiliations of the Marwar Kings. At, places some fusion can also be spotted, but largely, the edifice looks like a typical Hindu monument. A high central spire in centre is surrounded with four small chhatris – all in white marble. Many other domed chhatris can also be spotted on the roof that adds to its beauty. A perfect deep blue sky made things even more contrasting and appealing to eyes, very ideal for a photographic workout. Having moved around the otherwise simple and dull interiors, I decided to have a closer look at the nearby row of identical systematically placed white marble chhatris with a red sandstone base. Entry to these small chhatris, belonging to other royals, is prohibited, and quite rightly so, as there is hardly anything inside to explore. Also, that helps is keeping these chhatris spotlessly clean. Although, grandeur was there, I kept searching for the soul, and to be honest I found none. Having done all that I could have with my new digicam, I decided to move to my next destination, looming large on Jodhpur skyline – the mehrangarh fort.“Richard Gere, that Visa Ad” well I am more than 100 percent sure that you know it, but the only thing is you don’t know the fort that features in the beautifully directed Ad film. Mehrangarh Fort, comfortably sitting atop the raised hill overlooking the city, is the best, maintained and marketed fort, I have ever seen in the Indian Sub-continent.

While majority of Indian forts are lost in wilderness, with illegal occupants and dust laden walkways, this one is astonishing well-manicured, with polished brassware, clean passages, modern lifts, and more importantly, a well defined area open to visitors. After capturing the massiveness from the car parking lot, I moved inside to the ticket counter.

I am somewhat, in favour of commercializing heritage but to this extent, is certainly beyond my imagination. In mehrangarh, commercialization is to the extent that you actually have a choice – how would like to climb up this massive fort? Would you like to have an audio guide or a conventional guide? These are some of the questions that you may face when you land at the booking window. Audio Guide is nothing but a set of bun like headphones through which a visitor is guided to move around the well planned and numbered galleries and palaces inside the fort. I took the middle path – decided in favour of a conventional guide but preferred the modern lift to cut short the time. My guide was a well mannered professional, quick, smart, and wont let you stop anywhere for more than the self allotted time. He started his stories of the Marwar Valor, but I was least interested. After a while he gauged my mood rightly that it was the architecture that I was interested in. “Sir, this is the only season when we get good visitors and moving with this pace would dramatically affect my days earning” he informed me. I also agreed, and instead of getting into an unnecessary argument, decided to have a quick escorted look with him.

Most of the time I just kept on nodding, posing as if I am totally with him, though he was quite aware of my faking nods. One by one, he took me to the many palaces that house varieties of artifacts, common house wares, swords and gun power, and many other things depicting the royal grandeur. Palaces at Mehrangarh, are in a surprisingly high state of maintenance. The gilded ceilings and pillars still have a glaring glitter; the glass wares are still retain much of their old shine; the stained glass windows still create the same royal opulence. Another essential feature of all Rajputana palace complexes – hidden and mysteriously placed doors, walkways and staircases that connect the various compartments – is quite evident here as well. No regular, systematic or symmetrical pattern has been followed while making these palaces. With a new maharaja, came a new palace, and the poor artisans were left to the daunting task of making it look somewhat different and more gracious than the existing ones. Overhanging roofs were largely inspired from the traditional terracotta temples of Bishnupur in Bengal. This also tells us about the pervasiveness of the mighty mughal rule in those medieval days. Regional Architectural patterns became nationalized and an amalgamation of many local patterns gradually created a more uniform and refined style.

After finishing the escorted tour of the many fabled palaces, he took to the Museum Shop near the exit. One more commercial enterprise from the Mehrangarh Fort Trust; gazed through the overprized gallery of royal souvenirs, I ended up with a set of postcards. “Can I go back and take some more photographs inside?” I asked my turbaned guide. “Sure Sir! If anyone questions you, just tell him that you have missed your team and going back to join them” was his reply. Posing to be in search of my lost companions, I slowly made my way to the starting point. Clicking went on unabated as I moved past the palaces again; this time – quite relaxed and no one to cause hurry. However, to my surprise, later I found out that the pictures I took on my first maneuver outclassed my exploits during the second. Well! Quite hard to explain, like many other things in life.

Moving to the outdoors, I made my way to the dancing floor that Salman Khan used in Bollywood Blockbuster - Tere Naam. Mehrangarh, just like its interiors – has great ramparts overlooking the blue city. Slender bastions with fiery canons fitted to take care of the invading enemy coming from all the directions look simply awesome. Looking for the make, as I was glancing through the engraved details, Cossipore, struck am immediate chord. It was an 1863 Maxwell make canon, manufactured at Cossipore Works in Bengal. Calcutta in those days was as prosperous as any other British City, and most British and western companies had already started their manufacturing and marketing outlets there. “Made in Calcutta” in those days was quite synonymous to what “Made in Japan” means today.

Jodhpur was founded by Rao Jodha of Mandore, from the Rathore Rajput clan, in the year 1459 as a new capital to take care of his expanding empire of Marwar. He invited the Brahmins to populate his new found capital, as he had great faith in their knowledge and disciplined lifestyle. Blue was the colour that was assigned to them to separate their houses from the others. A commanding position in society caused a lot of Brahmin population to move in Jodhpur and create a modern city. But, lately, irrespective of the caste, blue became a local favorite and their fondness for blue gave Jodhpur a sobriquet of “the blue city.” My next destination along the forts ramparts was Chamunda Devi temple, a simple temple with some good carved details at the ceiling and support pillars. Took some pictures and decided to move ahead.

Descending down the corbelled walkways through the massive forts gates, I waited for a while to have a look at the hand imprints of queens who preferred death than insult and harassment at the enemy’s hands. Local women still touch these imprints and take blessings. Soon, my enthusiasm took a jolt as I found that I am up against the sunlight coming in from the opposite direction that’s causing a dull view of the palace façade. Tried every corner but nothing worked to my level of satisfaction. You better have a look what I achieved with all my camera attachments. So, how is that?

Mehrangarh Fort, to describe in a single word, was simply overwhelming – a true and ageless depiction of the Marwar grandeur and peaceful rule. Had a few final looks and decided to move towards Mandore, first capital of Rathores. After a bit of haggling, took an Auto Rickshaw. Mandore was the place from where it all started – the birth place of the mighty Marwars. When this small town became insufficient to accommodate the swelling empire, a search was initiated for a new capital, and it ended with creation of Jodhpur. On my way, a small, but neatly painted hoarding drew my attention. It showed the diversion route for Balsamand – the lake facing luxurious summer palace. Although my pre-tour research had culminated in favor of this place lack of time left me with no options, but to move ahead. “Next Time”, I said to myself.

A rejuvenating local glass full of Jaljeera and a packet of Lays – American cheese and onion – worked as my lunch as I checked-in Chhatri Baugh at Mandore that house a treasure trove of passionately build, but ill-maintained sandstone chhatris. It seems that the love has faded long back, and the chhatris are fighting a lone battle for survival. Local people, too, don’t have any concern and pay no heed of attention. A few school children bunking their classes, a couple of lovebirds looking for a hideout, and a bunch of illiterate jokers, totally unaware of something called national heritage & more interested in climbing up the crumbling blocks, leaving behind their badly written names could only be spotted. I was quite disheartened at the total state of affairs.
Just as I started to analyze the architectural influences, I found here too, it’s a blend of many styles and patterns. Red Sandstone has been used without giving a thought for any alternative options. In my layman opinion, these structures lack proper planning; workmanship is pretty average in terms of the quality of binding medium; hasty execution may be attributed to the lack of overall sturdiness. And that’s the reason why many of these structures have either fallen apart or waiting to fall. I did climb up one these structures through a set of narrow stairs, only to find a few hooligans. Total disregard for these chhatris and no effort on part of the government – state and central – have left this cluster in very bad shape. A swanky newly build amusement park, just behind the Chhatri Baugh is the latest crowd puller in Mandore, but this has hardly made any difference to the fate of these abandoned chhatris.

Finishing off the detailed expeditions to individual temples, I decided to take some rest, have some nicotine puffs, and move to the more famous Umaid Bhawan Palace. My mood was somber; “when will we Indians start appreciating our heritage and conserving the same?” came the query. When will we realize the importance of being “Original” and stop copying others? Popped one more. Actually, there’s no one blame; in India, heritage and domesticity are so inter-mingled at places that it’s really a challenge to keep them apart. On way to the Umaid Bhawan Palace many thoughts came and went, as my auto rickshaw passed through the dusty by lanes of Jodhpur. Interestingly, I found a lot of antique dealers with all their items piled along the roadsides – old brass wares, door panels with metal etched decorations, coins from the princely age and many more other things that can provoke any art lover.

Sitting pretty over Chittar hill overlooking Jodhpur city, Umaid Bhawan Palace is an Indo-Saracenic compilation that has all influences other than Indian. Huge blocks of finely chiseled golden yellow sandstone have been used extensively in finely executed masonry work surprisingly with no mortar. Guess how? Simple, first the interlocking blocks were carved and then it was like a simple child play to put them in proper places. What started as a food-for-work project for the famine affected subjects of Jodhpur, employing three thousand laborers for a period of sixteen years created a masterpiece that ranks amongst one of the finest palaces in India. By 1929, like most royals in India, Maharaja Umaid Singh had developed a strong liking for western stuffs, and that’s the reason why he choose the renowned Edwardian Architect named Henry Lanchester to design his new mansion. Luxury! Well that’s a pretty ordinary word for what Lanchester created. With 347 rooms, exotic murals, indoor swimming pool, cinema hall, never ending lobbies, and well laid gardens, Umaid Bhawan Palace is opulence redefined.

With an area of 26 acres, out of which constructed area is 3.5 acres and 15 acres have been devoted to lawns, when completed at an exorbitantly high cost of one crore twenty one lac rupees, this is one of the finest and grandest private residences in the world. Today, Umaid Bhawan Palace is broadly divided into three areas depending on their use and accessibility. Maharaja Gaj Singh, the present maharaja occupies nearly one-third of the palace, private and strictly inaccessible. A huge share of royal palatial suites is with TAJ Group who has converted it into a luxurious hotel, well beyond the reach of even the Indian middle class. Whatever, was left, was used to house the royal belongings to create a museum – dull and non informative. The purpose of starting the museum I believe was to create - a generous and caring attitude - amongst their estranged subjects and at the same time revive the pre-independence relation. Impressed by stunning interiors, and a wicked desire to click in the no-photography zone, I bribed one of the many caretakers with a ten rupee currency note. After finishing off the interiors, rested for some time at the ticket counter, sipping a packaged apple drink with an over-frozen pineapple pastry.

Having quenched my heritage desires, I landed in busy and bustling market place of Jodhpur near clock tower. As always, I was looking for some local specialties – handicrafts, art objects, eatables, and what not. After some window shopping at National Handloom, I decided to take two Bandhni or Tie-n-die silk sarees. Bandhni, is an unique indigenous printing technique, where-in, first the fabric is tied with threads in a systematic pre-planned way and then put through the dye. The tight knots avoid complete penetration of dye that creates interesting patterns when untied. It was already 18 30 hrs and by now my stomach had already started to voice its justified demands for some food. “Don’t worry the saris would be ready in an hour?” said the saleswoman. Bandhni work needs some unwinding and heavy ironing to make it flat and presentable. Left for my hotel and after a refreshing face wash, made my way to the rooftop restaurant for my last open air dinner at Jodhpur. I ordered one egg curry, one mushroom masala, and gobbled up a good number of light “Phulkeys” while appreciating the grandness of Mehrangarh. It was a satisfying staple, after a hectic day of haphazard maneuvers. Paying off my hotel bills, I left for Jodhpur railway station via National Hand loom.

Enchanting KhajurahoMysterious KalinjarTranquil Orchha

2009-11-12T20:08:00.000-08:00

“Oh my god!” I guess this is how T S Burt would have exclaimed with joy and excitement, when he landed at Khajuraho in the Bundelkhand heartland just by accident. He had no plans as such of an adventurous excursion while moving through central India, when his palki Wallah informed him about the temples of khajuraho. He decided to take a chance and diverted towards Khajuraho. And what he found there was something that changed the attitude of westerners towards India and Indian Culture. A plethora of medieval Hindu temples with richly carved statues surfaced and with them came a big question. What’s the motive of such erotic work in a Hindu temple?

Khajuraho derives its name from Hindi word “Khajura-vahaka” and became the seat of mighty Chandelas during the 10th century. It is believed; Chandelas were descendents of moon god and had political and military dominance in Bundelkhand for about two centuries before going into oblivion silently. During these years, they engaged in rapid temple making activities, and came up with around 85 temples in Khajuraho. Today, Khajuraho is a small village and only 22 of the original temples survive. But, they are more than sufficient to give you a glimpse of the Glorious Chandela Empire that it once was and the razor sharp chisel perfection of local artisans.

We started for Khajuraho on 12th night by Sampark kranti Express (AC-II) from Hazrat Nizamuddin. Took Chicken Biryani from Comesome and boarded the train. After finishing the Hyderabadi delicacy, Aninda and I, moved to our beds. Next morning at 03:35 AM we reached Jhansi; waited some time at the station and headed to the Bus stand. Just as we reached the bus stand, the MPSRTC bus “Shatabdi Express” was ready to leave for Khajuraho. I took the luggage and settled down in the bus, while Aninda managed to get a cup of hot steaming tea. Although khajuraho gets some Indian and loads of international tourists, even then transportation options are quite limited. MPSRTC bus “Shatabdi Express” was the best available alternative, but the seats were somewhat 4 that held us cramped for the next five hours.

Refreshing morning breeze kept us awakened and alert as we gazed thought the window. It was all green, very bright, and fluorescent. New tenders leaves have taken full bloom, while the rains have washed off nearly everything. Having passed through Chatarpur,…… and many other places, we reached Khajuraho. Plush five star hotels welcomed us at the outskirts; moved ahead towards the Bus Stand. In the first glimpse the whole area looked quite sleepy and dull. Took a rickshaw and moved towards “Casa da William” our pre-decided hotel.

After having a smoke (Rothmans-King-size) and a much-needed bath, we decided to start our tour-de-khajuraho form the western court. While having the breakfast cum lunch at the terrace of Casa da William we had the first snare at the high-rise spires of the magnificent temples. The food at casa was plain, less oily, and tasted like homemade stuff. After finishing the lunch, we moved towards the entrance of western court. Took the tickets and moved in after clarifying the small doubts that popped up in the mind of lady guard, because of the Sony-Handy cam case, that I had.

Western court is a sprawling courtyard that houses some of the most famous temples at Khajuraho. Kandariya Mahadev, Lakshmana, Vishwanatha …… along with some scaled down subsidiary shrines, placed around the main temples. Although we had the ASI guidebook on Khajuraho, indecision made us wander a bit till we decided to start the complex tourney from Lakshmana temple.

Lakshmana temple is one of the loftiest temples of khajuraho, with four subsidiary shrines at corners of the foundation plan. A series of rise steps leads to the main entrance carved in an intricate fashion. Most of the temples in khajuraho follow a basic architectural layout – main entrance, ardh mandapa, mahamandapa, garbha griha, and pradikshina are some of the basic elements. Watch out for those heavily carved ceilings and the waiting surasundaris inside the pradikshina. Having moved around the interiors, we decided to have an all-around look from outside. Exteriors of Lakshmana temple are adorned with an impressive number of around 576 statues. But, the scorch sun had already heated up the sandstone flooring to the extent that walking barefoot was becoming impossible.

Now, let’s do some rethink on the earlier debate. Why the erotic? There are many versions for the possible cause; some say to please lord Indra to avoid any divine wrath, others insist that Tantra was being practiced by the Chandelas which advocates Bhoga as one of the ways of finding nirvana. The presence of these statues only on the outer side is also explained to be a symbolic way to warn the devotees to keep off the erotic thoughts outside before entering the holy sanctum. However, the real story still remains an illusive secret. Some of the statues will actually make you laugh for their innovative and raw contents. We were totally spell bound by the chandela artistry; “Peltry in Sandstone” that’s how I would like to explain it.

Kandariya Mahadev, sitting next to Lakshmana temple was our next destination. This temples shares its platform with >>>>>>> temple with <<<<<<<>>>>>>> and <<<<<<>

Abandoned for Life!

2009-11-12T20:04:00.000-08:00

Came back from Gwalior fort and started planning for Orchha. One of the immediate worries that came into mind was the need to get up early. And the other was to make arrangements for a Auto Rickshaw that would drop me at the railway station around 5:00 AM in the morning. “Das Kaku” offered to drop me in his scooter, initially I was a bit hesitant but then accepted his offer. Took out the matter that I had collected over the Internet. Had my dinner and went to bed to wake up early.

Started with Das kaku at 05:00 AM as scheduled. Kaku dropped me at Gola Ka Mandir, and from there, I took an Auto Rickshaw to Railway Station. Purchased an ordinary (Non-Super fast 38/-) and boarded “CHAMBAL EXP.” Every thing was going as scheduled in advance. Reached JHANSI around 07:50 and straightway took an Auto Rickshaw to Jhansi Bus Stand. From there reached Orchha in a Tempo.

Success at last! After a half an hour drive in a Tempo, I reached the sleepy town of Orchha, where it seems nothing has changed. It has a very medieval look with the skyline dominated with high rising spires. The whole town is devoid of any remarkable modern structure and that’s a plus point.

On my way, I saw a lot of local people making their way towards Orchha Dham, that’s what the local people call it. Later I found out that the reason was “Pukh Nakshtara.” On Pukh Nakshtara a big local Buldelkhandi crowd comes to Orchha for a holy dip in the River “Betwa.” It was Kamlapati Bhattacharya who told me about Pukh Nakshtara and much more about Orchha.

Now, how to move about? That was the immediate query in my mind. Though I had not taken the breakfast and empty stomached, I decided to visit the Chaturbhuj Temple first. Although I am not a staunch follower of god but at times I do follow some beliefs that our society has. I moved around the temple complex including the Raja ram Mandir and Chaturbhuj Mandir. But, raja ram Mandir was much more crowded and I decided to go to the ruined deserted and imposing Chaturbhuj Mandir instead.

I was struck by the mammoth size of the temple. The temple has a central spire surrounded by four smaller spires placed at the corners of a square layout. One of the smaller spires had failed in the due course of time. This temple was build by Madhukar Shah as temple for lord Ram, but it is said that Lord Ram refused to move out of Raja Ram Temple, in which he was placed for the first time.

Chaturbhuj Temple is made of Sandstone, yellowish in Colour and lime mortar. The temple is in a bad shape, in some places the stairs leading upwards are in disarray. I took some pain to climb some of them and went for a “parikrama” around the temple. Took some pictures with my sole travel mate, in B&W. I don’t know why but in the last few months I have been more inclined towards B&W photography.

Next destinations in mind were the Chhtaris of Bundela Rulers on the banks of River “Betwa.” But my empty stomach drove me to think differently. To satisfy the both, mental and physical desires, I decided to grab a packet of Potato Chips. Took a new roll and moved ahead towards the “Kanchana Ghat”, probably the best place to have a look at the magnificent Chhtaris on the other side.

Walking over the open low height bridge on Betwa was a very satisfying experience. But, when approaching the Kanchana Ghat one has to bear some real bad odor of human excreta. Though all over the place it is written that a fine of Rs. 50 will be slapped for doing such things but still we Indians do so with considerable ease. Indians as a whole love to bend, and break the rules.

As said rightly, “no gain without pain.” One can only appreciate the serene beauty of Orchha only by passing through the dirt. But, what a sight it was. The river Betwa was in full flow, the more-than-average monsoon has filled every possible pocket and left the surrounding green as ……. Can’t imagine anything.

One regret I had that I should be having a SLR camera to photograph the Chhtaris more closely. But I did the best with the resources I had. Took out the packet of Chips, had them followed by some water and completed by slow and relaxed puffs of smoke. Now, I had some more calories to burn out. Straightway headed towards the other end to have a closer view of the Chhtaris.

Made my way into the Chhtari Complex with no one at the gate. The gardeners working inside asked about the ticket. I offered them Rs. 10 to which they agreed, as I was not having the ticket. Just as I was about to move around the caretaker came, asked the same question. I told him whatever amount the ticket costs, you take from me and give me a ticket. He rather agreed to Rs. 10 as decided upon earlier with the gardener.

Like most of the Buldelkhandi People, he was very friendly. I told him about my love for historical monuments. He then unfolded the history of Orchha, though a localized version and more biased towards the kings of Orchha.

How the city was founded? Who founded it? Everything that anyone can easily get from any travel book. Then I bowled a bouncer to check his depth of knowledge. I asked him could you tell me why after around 200 years the city of Orchha was abandoned altogether. He was unable to answer but came out with a very funny (to me and not to him, all Buldelkhandi’s) answer.

The place was in shambles and disregard with smelling human waste all over the place. But, with recent initiatives from State Government, the situation has improved drastically. Now, they look much clean, sanitized, and well cared.

“Kamlapati Bhattacharya!” that was his reply, when I asked his name. I immediately asked, are you a Bengali? Bhattacharya has to be a Bengali only. He said, yes and No as well. “My forefathers moved to region many years back and today I find myself more close Buldelkhand and Bengal is something like a strange place”, he clarified.

He provided me with a lot of information about the Chhtaris, the architectural influences evident on them. On ground floor the Chhtaris have an arched gateway with has much resemble to the Mughal Style, whereas as you go up, the first floor has arched gateways that reflects the Rajput Flavour. On the top Four small domes have been put on all corners, with a central dominating Spire much bigger in size.

Having finished my thirst for history and inquired about the best way to reach “Barwa Sagar.” Kamlapati told me to take a tempo to Tigala, from there another to Barwa Sagar. When I was about to leave, I gave Kamlapati a currency note of 10. He refused to take, told me “Saab aap bhi hamare hi pranth se hai, Rehne dijiye.” But when I insisted he took it.

Slowly and surely, I moved towards the Fort palace Complex of Orchha, the most favorite destination for foreign tourists. I was in double mind whether I should devote the whole day to Orchha or should I move ahead to Barwa Sagar. At last, I decided to move around the Fort Complex first and if time permits then to go to Barwa Sagar.

Moved passed the busy Tempo stand area, and over the old 17th century granite bridge, I reached the ticket counter at Fort Complex. I took a ticket that was meant for entry to Seven Monuments in and around the Fort. These included Laxmi Temple, Chaturbhuj Temple, Chhtaris on the Betwa River Bank, Unt Khana, Rai Praveen Mahal, Raj Mahal, and Jehangir Mahal. Though I covered only Chaturbhuj Temple, Chhtaris on the Betwa River Bank, Raj Mahal, and Jehangir Mahal.

After a few steps, I was at the main entrance of Jehangir Mahal, the palace that King Bir Singh Deo passionately made for the Mughal Emperor Jehangir. It was the rebellious Bir Singh Deo, youngest son of Madhukar shah, who murdered Abul Fazl near Orchha and sends his head to Jehangir, and the Kingdom had to face the fury of the Mughal Armies. But a year later when Jehangir became the Mughal Emperor, he gifted the Kingdom of Orchha to his old friend, Bir Singh.

Bir Singh decides to make a palace to commemorate the visit of the Mughal Emperor to Orchha. And the Jehangir Mahal was made. Made of Sandstone and lime mortar mostly, this building is a perfect example of mature Buldelkhandi Architecture. Some tile work can be seen but in a very bad state. The sandstone slabs at some places needs reinforcements, immediately. The intricately carved “Jaalis” are a visual treat to the eyes. The view of the entire region through these Jaalis was something that remains in the main for a long time.

This Monument has a stark similarity with the one that Bir Singh made at Datia. But the one at Datia is in a much better shape. Go for an all round walk, as it offers a very good overall view in all directions.

Moved around the whole complex twice and took some photographs. In near vicinity was the Raj Mahal, much older than the other structures in the Fort Complex. The palace has a much sound construction as compared to the Jehangir Mahal. It is made with Sandstone, Bricks, and lime mortar. Though some part near the main gate has collapsed, but still most of the palace in intact. It has some wall painting, though not in very good shape. I climbed up to the topmost part the Mahal, and it was a mesmerising experience. By the time I reached the top, I had already exhausted all my cylinders. So I decided to take a rest followed by few puffs of Cigarette.

After the refreshing and satisfying break, I decide to explore other corners. The small “jharokha” at the front offers you the best possible view of the Chaturbhuj Temple, just in front of the Mahal. It seems that the time has not moved a single second; the whole town has a charismatic medieval temple town look. I was thinking about how the things might have been?

The abandonment of Orchha because of the persistent Mughal threats and foundation of a new city at Tikamgarh. How, the thing actually happened, how difficult it would have been for the Bundelas to leave a place where they had lived for around 200 years; crowned it with temples, and palaces. And all of sudden leaving the whole to the jungle and settling somewhere else. It must have been a very difficult decision.

What happened in the following years was something that I wanted to know but failed to get the information. How the palaces, Chhtaris and temples were taken care of? This is something that generates the same amount of curiosity as why the Khmer people abandoned Angkor? I was in a different world, thinking of what life used to be in the days when the Bundelas were at their peak, may be during the times of Bir Singh Deo.

Went down by those dusty irregular, and in some places broken stairs. And now the chips that I had in the morning had already delivered what they could have deliver. I was in an urgent need for some food. Straightway went to Sheesh Mahal Palace, in the fort complex only, ordered Chicken Do pyaja + Veg. Pulao. While waiting for the same, wrote down some of my observations.

Having enjoyed the last bite of the fate less chicken, I decided to go to Barwa Sagar. There was no sound logic for that but I thought that it’s better to explore a new place. And I had no time to cover all the remaining monuments that were scattered, so I decided to come to Orchha again for a closer and comprehensive look.

Walked along the old bridge over the moat surrounding the fort and reached the Tempo Stand. Took a Tempo to Tigala, the 15-20 minute ride was a different experience. The tempo was packed to the maximum that is what I thought. But, “No” the driver was having totally differing views. He waited some more and made them sit. I was in the front cabin along side the Driver. Before starting, he poured in a packet of “Gutkha” into his mouth, and started. Just as we passed by the Raja Ram Temple, nearly everyone except me touched his or her forehead.

As the tempo was moving along the badly patched infamous roads of Madhya Pradesh, the local women in the back started singing in Buldelkhandi. It was something beyond my reach, the lyrics and the Rhythm. And there was a fall, all of sudden! Just as our tempo was about to cross the Railway Line, the barrier fell. I had only one option, just to wait while the ladies continued with their local songs. The driver asked us all to pay the money, but who is listening anyway? They were completely lost to the music and flow. After some harsh shouts the driver recovered his money from them.

I reached Tigala, and took one more Tempo to Barwa Sagar. Got down at Jarai Ka Math on the way to Barwa Sagar. Had some arguments with the ASI Monument Attendant at the gate and entered the Complex. It was great, suddenly I had a feeling that the credit, we bestow upon the Mughals for developing Indian Architecture is not worthy. In fact the temples from 8th –11th century are much more rich in designs, carvings and details. The temples from Pratihara period those, which escape the wrath of Muslim invaders, scattered all around North India, are “Masterpiece Creations.”

Jarai Ka Math is also made during the Pratihara Period in the 9th Century. It has boundary around the temple, built at the same time as the temple. The carvings on the outer walls are a pure visual treat and testimony of the artisan’s mastery of the art. Though the inside cannot be approached, I satisfied myself by clicking some pictures from outside and headed for Barwa Sagar.

A few tempos passed by but no one stopped, as there was none other than me, standing alone along a speedy highway. At last, I managed to get a Tractor that dropped me at Barwa Sagar. Since I was alone and new to the place, I decided to take an Auto Rickshaw rather than to explore the place myself. The “Auto Wallah” asked me whether I had come to Barwa Sagar a few days back. We moved towards the “Jharna” that’s how the lake is known here. Barwa Sagar Lake is an artificial lake created by the orders of Bundela King Udit Singh. Overlooking the lake is a fort, one of the many build by the Bundelas. Though I had come to Barwa Sagar for my special love towards forts, but the caretaker denied me an entry. That fellow had locked the main gate and was moving somewhere else in the fort. I tried my best to catch his attention, “Chaukidaar”….. “Chaukidaar”….. but with no gains.

At last I decided to take some photographs in the fading light, and then moved towards the lake. Took some other pictures, and decided to call off the day. But, again when I went near the Fort Gate, on my way back, I just failed to control my temptation. ….. “Chaukidaar”….. “Chaukidaar”….. Again the enigmatic silence was broken by my desirous shouts to see the fort from inside. “Okay, something must remain for the next visit”, this is what I told myself, and went straightway to the Bus Stand.

What drove me to Barwa Sagar was a photograph taken by Deen Dayal, way back in 1882 for a collection “Views of places proposed to be visited by Their Excellencies Lord & Lady Curzon during Autumn Tour 1902”. I don’t know whether Curzon and his wife actually made their way to Barwa Sagar. But, if they skipped Barwa Sagar for any other well-known and celebrated place, then it was definitely a loss for them.

The place has changed very little; to know how it looked like in those days, just have a look. And, now just compare this with the photographs that I have taken, after about 122 years. One would definitely say, “Nothing has really changed” and it is a fact. This sleepy village with feeble population has not wakened up yet.

A landmine of Antiquity

2009-11-12T19:58:00.000-08:00

As I was about to leave for Gwalior, I was very firm in my mind that this time I am not going to waste my leaves. We started on Thursday (12/08/2004) morning by Taj express. Though the train earlier terminated at Agra only, it was because of Late Mr. Madhav Rao Scindia, that I was extended to Gwalior. The journey was nothing special, we had to sacrifice some precious hours of morning sleep as we started at 06:00 in the morning not only to board the train but also to find some place to sit in the “GENERAL-SAMANYA” coach.

As we crossed Dhaulpur, dad showed the fort of Dhaulpur. In the otherwise dusty terrains of chambal, the fort stood out on a hill. This is the place from where Her highness Shrimati Vasundhara Raje, chief Minister of Rajasthan belongs. And immediately I got a new destination to explore, may be during my next visit to Gwalior. In the evening I got news that was not very sweet to my ears. I had planned to leave by Chambal Express the next morning to Jhansi, but I was told that that Chambal Doesn’t runs on Fridays. So the advantage of early start that chambal Express would have given me was not there. I looked for some more trains but with no success.

Now, I had two options, either to delay my trip to Orchha by Saturday or leave by any other train. I was constantly discouraged by all others including mom, dad, and jethima that what is the fun in moving alone? You better abort the plan. But the images of magical medieval “Mahals” were quite live in my mind and I just want to go to Orchha alone or with someone. I had done a lot of Research but no development about Orchha and Barwa Sagar before leaving for Gwalior and the level of excitement was not unprecedented.

Next morning I wake up with a mental dilemma and immediately decided that “if not Orchha, why not Gwalior”. I started for Hajira, from where I started my upward trek. I passed by the many gates that once served as barriers for the invaders. At times took little breaks wherever I found some picturesque views and of course when I had a desire for a tinge of Nicotine. Sometimes I had to wait a long as I wanted a clear blue sky and the clouds were on a move. At last I was at the top of one of the mighty forts of central India.

Gwalior Fort has a long and interesting history of invasions, take-over, and recovery. The fort, it seems was made by the Pratihara in the 10th Century, later held by many Rajput Kings including Kachhwahas, Tomars.

I almost went the whole periphery of the old fort, even going to those areas where I had never gone in my earlier 8-10 visits. My camera was put in Operation Mode at regular intervals. The whole area was looking great, a splash of continuous rains has left the whole area “Green”, full with Grass and other such weeds. But the humid winds with the scorching sun were making it difficult to move. With the sweat not stopping at all and shoe pinching a bit it was like “gain with pain.”

I covered all the major monuments including the Man Mandir, Saas-Bahu Mandir, Teli ka Mandir and many more Mahals. The Mighty Mughals who were at Agra used the Gwalior fort as a royal prison. Aurangzeb put his brother Murad Baksh in Man Mandir and later killed him. The fort has a history of defiance, the Delhi Sultans would waste their energies for months to conquer it and when the Sultan would go back it will fell to the locals again. It happened many a times. Illtutmish laid a seize of Gwalior Fort for a period of Eleven months. He took over the fort but lost immediately afterwards.

Man Mandir is in relatively better state as compared to the other palaces in the Fort. It has interesting designs with tiles of Green, Blue and Yellow colour. The tiles have retained their colours for about 700 years. Prominent figures in the tile work include Ducks, Banana Tree and other such figures.

My next halt was “Saas-Bahu Mandir” for with I had to walk a full kilometer with sun right at the top. The temples were made by Pratihara king Mahipala, one for his mother and other for his wife, so says the ASI Plate at the foot of the temple.

But the temple has a stark similarity with the Jain way of temple making prevalent in the 9-10th Century. Though I have only seen the Jain Temples at Dilwara, Mount Abu in pictures, I was convinced that definitely Jainism might have influenced the Ruler. The intricate carvings in the pillars and doorways are very much like the typical Hindu Style during the Pratihara Period. The temple that I saw when moving towards Barwa Sagar, Jarai ka Math has the same style of carvings.

I took some photographs, tried to picture the Saas Mandir from the Bahu’s and vice versa. I was feeling thirsty and found a “Thela” at the temple gate, asked about water. His reply was negative; he only had “baraf ke Goley’s” which I avoided. Instead I tried to quench my thirst by having Lozenges that I had taken earlier.
Again after some more walking, I reached the Teli Ka Mandir. What to say about it? It was a masterpiece. In 1881, the British under Keith worked for around 3 years to restore the temple to its glory. Scindias of Gwalior paid an amount of 4000 rupees, as a part of total cost (around 7000 rupees). This temple along with the temples of Saas and Bahu were among those temples that faced the wrath of the invading forces of Mohammad Ghori. All the statues were defaced and the carvings filled in with Limestone. My heartiest wishes go out to those British Persons who worked for the restoration of the temples. Later the British converted the temple into a soda factory.

The temple is a massive one with a peculiar style. The layout and design is something that I had never seen. Took some photos while sticking close to the wall separating the temple and the Scindia School Playground. I was exhausted but satisfied at the same time, though I had fired all my cylinders but at the same time I charged myself.

It was very different feeling. I made my way towards the main gate, stopping once in between for some water + chips + smoke. Gwalior has been rediscovered.

A Royal Sojourn

2009-11-12T19:40:00.000-08:00

“Jaipur, No! It’s not my kind of tourist destination. I would rather go to a less known place like Orchha or may be Mandu.” That’s what I felt about Jaipur. The monuments are new and have no historical perspective or importance. The forts, the cannons, the guns, the Armour were made with many threat apprehensions, but never used. Subsidiary alliance with the British came to the rescue of the maharajas. Else I don’t think they could have sustained the onslaught of foreign invaders. Rather than getting into unnecessary military troubles with potentially dangerous enemies, the maharajas glorified themselves by subjugating small and weak fiefdoms. Although they made the world’s largest cannon, they didn’t have the courage and opportunity to use it more than once. That too was a test shot and not a real one.

Anyhow whatever feeling I had in my mind, I decided to move around the city. The official work was over by the evening and I had a full day to explore the royal charters. Enquired in the hotel about the taxi fares, and no surprises, the prices were very high. Some added benefits that you may get, if you are planning to visit Jaipur in winter – inflated prices for possibly everything, right from your hotel charges, taxi charges, souvenirs shopping, and other stuffs. Keeping into consideration the cost economics, I made up my mind to take the sloppy state transport buses.

Paid the hotel bills and straightway headed towards the City Palace, in the walled old city. Pink City – that’s how its better known. The whole city was painted in pink to welcome the Prince of Wales in 1876. This shows how devoted the Indian Rulers were, not towards India, but towards their European friends. While Scindias made a castle at Shivpuri to welcome George V, how can the Jaipur Maharaja be left back in the race to get the Victorian blessings? City palace lies right in the middle of the Sawai’s Pink City, nearby lies the Jantar Mantar, and the Palace of Winds. It was the area that had the biggest crowds in those days, and it applies even today. Jantar

Mantar is a testimony of Sawai jai Singh’s love for astrology (1) and planetary motion. He ordered the construction of similar instruments at five other sites – Delhi, Ujjain, Varanasi and Mathura other than Jaipur.

I decided to skip the mathematical Jantar Mantar, as I have already seen the one that is in Delhi. When I visited the same at Delhi, I found it very unfortunate that there’s no one who can tell you about the instruments. It’s easier to find a bunch of amateur guides everywhere else, but no one can be spotted there. Reason, what I felt was, it is easy to cook stories about silent monuments, but to give a reasonable explanation about a scientific instrument is something that pays less and requires some serious book reading.

I moved into the city palace, having taken a film roll from a nearby shop. The early morning sunshine was getting stronger and stronger. Moved around the Textile Museum in a hurry and misled, entered a souvenir shop. Some paintings on old Court Stamp papers drew my attention immediately. “How much for this one – a old man with white overgrown moustaches and colourful pagdi, looking out from a fort bastion,” I asked. The price was beyond my reach, so decided not to waste any more time and moved towards the next palace.

Entered the palace through the Rajendra pol, with a smart tourist friendly guard at the gate. The gate also had two monolithic marble replicas of Elephant, and some really neat paintings. It was really good inside, what impressed me the most were the efforts taken for preservation. The palace has been preserved in its original glory, and makes a very accurate portrayal of the Rajput Royal life. Inside the courtyard, what immediately strikes you is the Peacock Pattern at the gate, painted superbly with bright colours. I tried to photograph the same that also appears in lonely planet-Best of India. Here also, efforts were made to give the whole thing a three dimensional effect. Check this out!

Though it was only around 09:30 in the morning, huge crowds have already started pouring in, mostly foreigner. I kept on clicking, virtually everything, the Brass doors, the painted ceilings, the high rise Jharhokas, and the pink walls all around. Flying high atop the seven-storied Chandra Mahal was the Punch Ranga – the five coloured striped state flag of Jaipur. Three colours dominated the views – red, blue, and white. With Blue sky forming the perfect background, the red walls and the white marble floors make a sharp contrast.

Moved into the picture gallery. Keeping into mind that my bus would depart at 16:00 and Amer and Jaigarh forts are still to be conquered, finished off in few minutes and having said “goodbye” to the pagdi Wallah guard at the entrance, I logged off the city palace complex. Enquired about the way to Hawa Mahal, i.e. the palace of winds, and moved on towards the same on my feet. After some zigzag maneuvers I finally made it.

Hawa Mahal – a monument that’s inseparable from Jaipur was my next stopover. It can prove out to be big disappointment for those who have only seen glossy postcards of freshly painted Hawa Mahal. The monument, though unique in many ways needs immediate attention and some red paint. I did notice some construction work in progress. This strange monument, build for a stranger purpose, has a good number of windows. The windowpanes can still be seen; these windows gave the royal ladies a view of the streets. The queens used to witness the important proceedings, marriage processions, and anything that the city has on offer, through these windows.

Having seen the interiors, I decided to take some photographs from outside. A flurry of vehicles made the job a bit difficult, but the road divider served the purpose nicely. Took some pictures while vehicles passed by in both directions. But, the complete was still to be captured in a single frame; moved across the road and peeped through the viewfinder for that complete frame. “Its not possible with 35mm auto focus camera,” that’s how I consoled my heart and made my way to the bus stand, on the other side of the road.

Just as I was inquiring about the bus timing from nearby hawkers, a bus came. Took the same, but it was becoming difficult to move ahead with any food, as I had started with any breakfast. A street vendor was like a god send messenger with some fresh bananas. Although I have a strong disliking for bananas, I decided to stock up some in my howling stomach. A young schoolboy was sitting next to me; I offered him a banana, he said, “No.” after some time he asked me, “Are you on a sight seeing tour of Jaipur?” I replied, “No, actually it was an official one, but I just want to make the best possible use of some spare hours.”

He told me that he wanted to become an engineer and I surprised him by revealing my identity. He wanted to know how much money an engineer makes? Whatever you get is quite sufficient for enjoying a decent lifestyle was my reply. We had a good chat until his stop came. He got down at the Jaipur Air Force Station, just opposite the famous Jal Mahal. I also wished to get down but thinking of the city bus services and evening return bus for Delhi, decided to go straight to the Amer fort. Just as our bus passed through a ravaged gate, the Jaigarh fort made its first entry into the rough terrain, with no real vegetation and inhabitation around.

That’s what I always crave for! A majestic fort atop an imposing hill with elaborate defense arrangements. The fortifications can be seen clearly; the bastions were right on vigil. The whole view was superb – it’s like a crown on the head of Barren Mountain. As the bus moved a bit farther, came the twin fort of Amer. Amer fort stood impatiently to welcome the tourists with a well-laid garden at the entrance. In fact it was the most crowded fort I have ever seen. The fort can definitely be termed as a Tourist friendly fort, as you can approach it with ease and it offers rare royal lifestyle and grandeur, preserved with care.

Took a film and moved straightway to the fort. On both sides of the main entrance, there were a plethora of hawkers selling everything, from fish food to human food, postcards to royal souvenirs, printing blocks to printed cloths. I saw a foreign tourist losing her temper with a hawker who had followed her right from the top of the fort. Poor Man- his efforts came to a big null, but not his spirits. The next target would find it more difficult to evade his foolproof marketing net.

After a small trek, I was at the main gate of Amer fort. I suggest you not to take the elephant path, not even by mistake, as it stinks and also has a risk of moving along with the moody giants. The central courtyard next to the main gate was flooded with tourists. School Children with their endless enthusiasm written all over their faces, Young Couples who have just tasted the eternal experience named LOVE, foreign tourist with a quest to discover the Indian mysteries, family men and casual travelers like me can be spotted everywhere. The ticket window, not surprisingly, was also crowded, even with two separate queues for ladies and gents.

Took the tickets, and moved into the main complex of Amer fort. A good number of steep stairs left me at a gate that opened into an open verandah. In front was a big open hall with an array of impressively carved pillars of red sandstone. The hall offers some really good views of the whole area. The ruined fortification walls can still be seen on the nearby hills. Even the steps that once led the way to the watch post are intact but not continuous. Took some photographs and made by way to the nearby elaborately painted Ganeshpol. Ganeshpol was the central attraction and the gateway to the palatial complexes of Amer. The paintings were really breathtaking, and what most impressive was the symmetry of patterns. They were also designed to have a three dimensional effect because of the underlying plastering.

Entered the main palace complex through Ganeshpol. It was all royal and very well preserved. A well-laid charbagh welcomes you as move in through the Ganeshpol. This garden, and the one at the entrance, was inspired by Mughal practice of making Gardens. Sitting near the Charbagh, Sheesh Mahal, or the Glass Palace, is another example of Rajput stubbornness and will power. I wonder how the rusty Rajputs who developed such fine taste.

Sheesh Mahal as the name suggests has some exquisite glasswork on the walls and ceilings. Coloured glasses have been used in some places that filter in light in various shades. Changed my camera film and moved around the whole complex. While I was exploring the dark corners of the Nearby Zenana Court, I experienced a painful ankle twist. For a few seconds I lost my vision.

After some time I felt an immediate need of some puffs, but no one could be seen smoking, inside the palace premises. While I was looking for a lonely place somewhere, I found myself near the main frontal watchtower of Amer fort. The views were great – the elephants, dressed quite colourfully can be seen making their way up to the fort. Enjoyed the smoke, and decided to have a final look at the Amer Fort and move ahead to the next level – Jaigarh.

Coming out of Amer, I was in terrible indecisiveness, whether to go to Jaigarh or call it a day. I don’t know what drove me but I took the dusty tracks leading to the imposing Jaigarh fort. “How far is the fort, and it is worth putting the effort of scaling it?” I asked a foreign tourist who was coming back from Jaigarh. He replied, “some 20 minutes, but its definitely worthy.” I found my cylinders charged up, and the upward trek started. Surprisingly whereas Amer has so much tourist inrush, and elephants, to carry them, not many want to go to the Jaigarh.

On my way to the Jaigarh, I came across many children moving up with their parents and family. While their parents have surrendered to the steep and tiring trek, but for the children there’s nothing stopping them. In fact they enjoyed every bit of it. One of them asked me with some pride, “are going to the fort?” they actually wanted to tell me that they are also going to the same fort. And to tell the truth while I just made it with no more energy to spare and improper breathing, they did climbed up with no visible signs of exertion.

“A more challenging job was right up there.” The fort is real big one with armory and a good number of palaces. The bastions offer an undulating view of the whole area, what a royal army man had in those days, while doing his job.

The desire to see the world largest cannon by own eyes dragged me further for a walk of about 2 kilometers. At last, some signs of commercialised tourism that is otherwise rampant in all other places in Rajasthan. A few camels welcomed me near the palace gate, the most happening place I Jaigarh fort. Inquired about the Jaivaan, and moved ahead unabatedly. Taking all the red dust that was directed by the passer by cars and camel with love, I moved ahead.

“I made it.” The Jaivaan was sitting just by my side, and I was enjoying the views from the highest point in Jaigarh. But, I found the much talked after and over hyped cannon a disappointment. Thought it was made with great intensions, and some stories were also cooked about the lethalness of this giant machine, it never showed off its real potential and effectiveness.

There’s an interesting story about this speechless mammoth gun. It is said that whenever the cannon was fired, the blast was so loud that the sepoy involved in the act of torching it, would jump into the neighboring water tank to keep his eardrums intact. Although the tank can be spotted even today, but it’s hard to believe the story. Having quenched my thirst for forts and adding one more in my list of forts conquered, I moved on towards the main entrance.

On my way back walked along the corridors of defense. “Punch Ranga” can be seen flying atop a watchtower. After some wandering, I was at the main entrance. I was quite contented with what I had discovered. My initial feeling about the royal Jaipur has altered, but only by some small margin. Now, I was left with only one last desire and that was to reach the bus stand well in time.

Had a last view all around as I was coming down the Jaigarh. Walked passed the Amer and after a few minutes, I was finally at the main road. Waited for a bus, but with no one in near sight, took an auto rickshaw and straightway headed for Jaipur Bus stand. Reached there, and had a coffee with a veg. patty. Took some magazines for the travel, and took the super luxurious VOLVO, certainly the best available bus in India.

The royal images kept on appearing wherever I closed my eyes. I thought, maybe the Jehangir Mahal of Orchha had been just like the Sheesh Mahal, before the Bundela’s abandoned their capital, in favour of Tikamgarh. Datia Mahal can still be renovated only if the there is a genuine concern, and the people understand what these things mean to us. The sorry state of many other monuments, made me to conclude, that probably these monuments were safe, had they remained in the hands of their erstwhile custodians? At least the emotional attachment would be there, and a caring attitude comes with that. Be it the city palace of Udaipur, the Scindia Palace in Gwalior, or the Umaid Mahal palace of Jodhpur, the conservation remains the priority Number one.

With all this concerns in my mind, we reached a halt. The driver confirmed about a 15-minute break. Enjoyed a hot coffee, with some refreshing puffs. Reached Dhaula Kuan via Gurgaon, a transformed place because of the DLF – Delhi leasing Finance Corporation. Got down at Dhaula Kuan, and took a local bus to Sarojini Nagar.

1: The study of the positions and aspects of celestial bodies in the belief that they have an influence on the course of natural earthly occurrences and human affairs.

The magic of Mandu

2009-11-10T23:24:00.000-08:00

I purchased the book two years back when I went to Tipu’s summer palace at Srirangapatanam, but never read it. Hampi and Ahmedabad were the two other books along with Mandu that I had purchased. But, as soon as, I got the green signal from my boss about the official tour to Indore, the book lost some of the dust that deposited over it. “I am not going to miss it anyway,” that was the mood. To keep aside any unforeseen troubles and maximise my stay at Mandu, I decided to stay one day extra, apart from the official work.

Every evening after office hours, I would pick up the ASI guide about Mandu and workout my possible ways of maneuvering the Mandu hilltop. Though I had already glanced all its plates, I decided to go through the whole book. I was quite impressed by the way information has been compiled. I also referred some other travel books that I had. Surfing the net for some piece of information, remained a routine job a week. Putting everything together, I decided that at least a day and at most a day and a night stay at Mandu, if mood swings. I had a full day to spare at Indore, so there were no hurdles. But, my foolproof master plan failed and very much with my own consents.

It was already 12 in the clock when we – Dipak, Rajnish, Mukesh K, Mukesh A and myself sat down with a bottle of Signature premium whiskey. But, I failed to put down their request for the party. We had brought two VCD’s – Chasme baddoor and Hiralal Pannalal, and Dipak wanted to finish off both. We enjoyed the movie and whiskey at the same time, while Mithunda stared from the VCD cover, lying nearby. Even after the whiskey episode I was in full control of my Mandu dreams. While Dipak and all kept on watching, I quietly slipped out. Ramu, the obedient caretaker cum cook had also gone to his bed. Ramu was an interesting character and deserves a mention. Maybe he has never looked in his master’s eyes ever. He was very shy and sincere, and knows his job very well. I had some roti’s and choley and went to bed. I had no idea when Rajnish and Dipak went to bed.

I wake up relatively early, and completed the daily chores. I was in dilemma, what to do? And how to move ahead? Rajnish had given his consent to accompany me to Mandu, but he was still in bed and I didn’t wanted to disturb his prized morning sleep. I decided to have my breakfast and move ahead by 10:00 AM. “I am coming”, Rajnish said just when I was having my breakfast. I waited for him for another one hour and we could start our journey only by 11:30 AM.

“If you have a hearty desire, he never lets you down”, I remembered these words of Motilal Kaku. We were on our way to Mandava, or Mandapadurga, or Mandu whatever you may like to call. We stopped at a roadside dhaba to have some tea and cigarettes and then moved ahead. The travel to Mandu was a luxurious one, compared to my trip to Maheshwar the day before. After a drive of around two and half hours, the ruins made their first appearance. Many tombs can be seen scattered, here and there, adding to the beauty were the lush green bushes all around.

After a few minutes drive, we reached a point that overlooks a deep gorge. The height was sufficient to give anyone a spine-chilling shiver. We found a “shikanji Wallah” and had a shikanji. It helped to shake up my nervous system that otherwise was performing dull because of the late night cocktail party. I was in an absolutely charged up mood.

Having past through some other scattered ruins, here and there, we entered the Mandu fort via the Bhangi gate. Why Bhangi, comes the immediately enquiry; Mandu has many gates but Bhangi Gate lies on the main motor able road to the hilltop. The views around the gate were simply great – blossoming lotus in the nearby water pockets, overgrown bushes, and other creepers added to antiquity around. Nearby were the ruins of Gada Shah’s shop at a raised plateau.

Although I had already gone through the ASI book on Mandu, I decided to take a guide, just to make the best possible use of our time. He explained to us, why Dilawar Khan Ghori named it “Shadiabad” (town of joy) and why his son Hoshang Shah made Mandu his seat of power. I interrupted him intermittently to check my grip over my knowledge of medieval Indian history. By the time we were planning the possible ways of moving around the fort, it was already 2:30 pm. So, we had very little time, and a world to explore. “Even your whole life is not sufficient to see all of it, though it can be finished off in a day, ” that’s what the guide told us. I decided to cover the major monuments and keep the rest for my next visit.

Our first stop was the much famed – Roopmati’s pavilion. Roopmati shared a special relationship with Baaz Bahadur. Baaz Bahadur was a great lover of music and Roopmati was a accomplished singer. It is said that their love, found its expression only through music. Though they had never seen each other, their love was as pure as their music. The Roopmati’s pavilion, standing at the highest point in Mandapadurga is a testimony of Baaz Bahadur’s love for Roopmati. This place offers the best possible views of the Nimar Plains and the River Narmada. Every morning Roopmati would come up at the pavilion and had a look at the Narmade, before starting her day. Roopmati grew up on the banks of river Narmada, and this association was the reason for the daily morning act.

The pavilions made on two elevated platform has trademark afghan architecture and finds its place in all travel guides about Mandu. It is the location and stories of Baaz Bahadur and Roopmati that make this monument, a not-to-miss in Mandu. You can also have a mesmerising look of the ruined Mandu terrain. After staying at the top for a good time, we came down and moved towards the Baaz Bahadur’s palace nearby.

Baaz Bahadur’s palace, sitting next to the Rewa kund is a fabulous place, overlooking the plains. All around arch shaped pillars have been used for supports. Inside the palace, there is a pond with steps on all sides to get down. Adjacent to the open central courtyard that houses the pond, there is a hall. The hall has two compartments on either side with some low noise hi-fi acoustic effects. I was informed by my guide that this was the place where music competitions were held and Roopmati defeated the “Navratna” Tansen.

On our way to the Nilkanth, we stopped at the Dai ki chhoti bahen ka Mahal and Dai ka Mahal, though we didn’t enter because of lack of time. A local passer by drew our attention by his shouts. Soon, we knew that actually he is giving a demonstration of the acoustic effects embedded in the monuments. We also tried and Yes! It does echoes and comes back with some time lag. I was reminded of the Golconda fort that also has some amazing sound tricks.

Nilkanth is the only monument atop the hilltop that encompasses a Hindu belief. This temple was build by Emperor Akbar for his Hindu queen Jodhabai. Shiva – the destroyer, one among the Trinity, about whom Hinduism revolves, is the presiding deity here. Rajnish offered some white lotus flowers, while I looked around for some snappy views. Had some cold drinks and moved towards the Jama Masjid. On our way, I came across a strange tree, with a wide trunk and thin branches. The answer from the guide came, “this is Mandu ki Imli.” The trees made their way from the African continent along with the Traders. The Mandu Sultans had good trading relationships with the Arabs, central Asians, and Africans. But, what surprised me was when we came back down the hill; there were none of them.

After a short drive, we were at the mammoth Jama Masjid, just opposite the Ashrafi Mahal. We visited a nearby temple, and came back to the Masjid. Ashrafi Mahal, sitting next to the Masjid was a huge creation, though in a bad shape. What used to be the most majestic monument in Mandu during the reign of Hoshang shah is in shambles. The leading steps, main gate, and some pillars can be seen today. I took a snap and entered the Masjid that is relatively intact.

One word can aptly describe this monument – grand. The general layout and design is huge. It lacks detailed patterns, but has sound blocks of sandstone, put together in the strongest possible configuration. Innumerable domes adorn the roof, on all sides, with an alien shape. I was in agreement with my guide when he said, “this design was influenced by architectural styles of Damascus.” But, then why carved pillars, of typical Hindu style, were used inside the Masjid, remains a mystery. It seems that these blocks came from nearby temples and palaces of the Paramara Kingdom of Dhar.

The Masjid is quite, and a good place to take some rest. But, we can’t; moved ahead to the nearby unique and interesting tomb of Hoshang shah. Hoshang shah was the sultan who made Mandu his capital. His tomb has a distinction of being the first white marble edifice in the Indian sub-continent that later inspired Emperor Shahjahan to make the Taj Mahal in White marble. Shahjahan send his architects to Mandu before finalising the plans for the inimitable Taj Mahal. It is said that Hoshang started the construction in his own lifetime; the reason being, he had poisoned his own father to become the sultan and that’s why he had fears of something similar for himself.

The tomb made of white marble, though of many shades, has an interesting architecture. The square base converges into octagonal shape at the top that ultimately supports the central tomb. Four small tombs are placed at four corners. It was not possible to capture the whole monument in single frame, but I did succeeded in capturing the tomb with Jama Masjid domes in the background.

One contrasting thing drew my attention; the long hall near the Masjid supported with carved pillars. Why so? Hardly there is such arrangement in any other Masjid I have seen elsewhere. I was very excited and busy with my camera, ignoring Rajnish and Mr. Guide completely. While they had already completed the tomb complex, I was still wandering in the sultan’s final rest place. When felt satisfied only when there was a need of nicotine from my blood cells. Moved outside and enjoyed every bit of the cigarette to the last possible puff.

Our next stopover was the Jahaz Mahal complex. Just as we reached there, I felt the need to change my camera film. A change from B&W to Colour. I purchased some books from the ASI counter at Jahaz Mahal. The security arrangements at Jahaz Mahal looked more organized, alert, and professional, as compared to the other monuments at Mandu. This complex has quite a few palaces and baolis – Jahaz Mahal, Hindola Mahal, Champa baoli and many more.

We took some high-rise steps, about 40 of them to reach the rooftop of Jahaz Mahal. This palatial mansion, surrounding by artificial lakes on both sides, was build by Ghyasuddin. The palace has a rectangular layout that gives it a ship-like appearance, and thus the name, Jahaz Mahal. It is said that on a moonlit night, the lakes on either sides, gives a magical illusion of a ship making its way in the sea. Emperor Jehangir visited Mandu with his beloved queen Noor Jahan; he fell in love with this palace and the palace.

Ghyasuddin, the leisure, and fun-loving sultan actually made this Mahal for his large harem that had around 11,000 women. He enjoyed a luxurious and extravagant life, the other Mahals he build, stand testimony of his pompous lifestyle. Jahaz Mahal has numerous rooms, many balconies, and a pool. Intricate channels of water, that once fed the pool, can still be seen.

The construction as such is very sound; no complicated and detailed patterns, but only solid stone blocks and some lime mortar to put those blocks in place. Again, just like in Baaz Bahadur’s palace, trademark afghan arches can be seen here in abundance. The adjoining lakes add to the antiquity while maintaining serenity. It was a great sight; I took some snaps in a hurry and tried to keep pace with Rajnish and my Guide, as they were rushing ahead.

Though I wanted to stay there for some more time, the guide was the pushing force that took us to Hindola Mahal. For the first time in my life, I recognized the demerits of hiring the services of a guide. We reached the nearby Hindola Mahal, another Ghyasuddin creation. Why Hindola? Because the walls here are slopped outwards which gives an impression as if the whole Mahal is swaying. This has strong pillars supporting the aches that hold the roof.

Our last guided spot was – Turkish Hamam, which had arrangements for a steam bath. The Hamam was circular in shape with steam tubes pouring steam from all the directions. The ceiling had some opening through which light was coming. He also showed us some other medieval bath and lavatory techniques. Mr. Guide looked in a hurry to finish off and he was in no mood to show us the remaining ruins. We decided to explore the leftovers on our own, and gave him his fee.

By the time, we started exploring the dark and not-often visited corners of the ruins; we felt the need to have something. It has been long since we had our breakfast and the traces of alcohol that we had last night, has already burned out. We decided to finish off in half and hour, but then, you never know what’s there in store. As I was snapping some great views around Jahaz Mahal, my camera motor failed. I tried in the every possible manner, applied the every trick that I had in my basket, to make it operational.

It was a sheer disappointment. I had thought of photographing the Mandu terrain on our way back. I consoled myself, “Mandu wants me to come here again, and I will come back very soon, for at least two days.” We decided to call off the day, and make our way to a good restaurant. As, I was coming back through the ruins of Jahaz Mahal complex, with fading sunlight, I experienced the magic that Mandu is. I left the Jahaz Mahal complex with mixed sentiments. I was happy and satisfied to have seen the massive palatial mansions of the Mandu sultans, their techno baolis and Hamams, their impeccable sense of natural beauty, and the magical environs of the Malwa plateau. But, I was feeling sad as well for failing to capture the same magic with my camera. I have a firm belief that “whatever happens, sometimes as we plan and sometimes against our wishes, is good.” What matters is how we look at the failures?

A good and hygienic restaurant, that’s what we all desperately looked for at the end of an eventful day. We found one, had some snacks, and moved ahead as it would take another three hours to Indore. Near, Jama Masjid we stopped for some local shopping; Rajnish took some ayurvedic medicine for arthritis, while I bought a Mandu ki Imli, as a souvenir.

The silent tombs, shops, and gates came on our way as our TATA Indica descended down the Mandapadurga. The dusky sky, mild blowing wind, overgrown bushes, baobab trees, and the scattered ruins – what else can you ask for? Not only Mandu matched my expectation, but it also instigated a desire to revisit this medieval town. Even when I am writing this travelogue, the Mandu magic still continues to conjure my mind.

A Hidden Gem in Bundelkhand Countryside

2009-11-09T00:44:00.000-08:00

My first encounter with this palatial fortress came, when I was still in my school and had little knowledge about medieval Indian history and architecture. Those days can hardly be forgotten; the exams had just finished off and we were on out way to my maternal uncle’s home at Thakurnagar. That had become a routine after the exams every year; we would pack all stuffs that could make the travel less bore and more enjoyable – khatte chawal, poori, subzi, some chacha chaudhary comics, “Sportstar,” Ludo…… and what not.

Thakurnagar is a village, not as pure and pristine as other villages in West Bengal. “Mokarshal” is the perfect word in Bengali to describe it; don’t how it would sound in the pervasive English language. People here, in majority still earns its bread by small-scale farming, fishing and other allied ways. Some shopkeepers and money launders have made the market area quite busy and active. In the last few years, the florist market has developed quite a lot, and pours in fresh garden picked indigenous flowers to the markets at Kolkata. The villagers now have a latest passion – to go to some gulf country and make quick money.

The only option we had to reach Howrah directly from Gwalior was Chambal Express, courtesy Late Shrimant Madhavrao Scindia. “Chambal Express” would drop us at Howrah and from there we would take a local electric train to Thakurnagar. We boarded the train at 06 00 hrs. in the morning. The fight for the window seat started inevitably but because of the vacant seats nearby, it ended prematurely without any further conflict. Soon after as the train whizzed passed the concrete complexes of Gwalior, the rough and dusty Bundelkhandi terrain made its first entry. After Sithouli and many other small halts, we lost the charm in the otherwise dull and dry scenery outside.

“Waah ki sundor killa ta!” didi shouted. Yes! It did looked like a fort, quite imposing, perched atop a nearby hill. It dominated the entire skyline for sure; the blue glazed tiles, very much like the one used at Gwalior Fort, can still be spotted. Although there was a blackish layer over the stones and mortar coverings. As the train moved past the fortress, we kept on staring it. It remained in the picture frame for a few minutes but left an indelible mark on our minds. We had no idea – who build it? When? and why?

Year 1999 was about to complete and Bose jethu, our tour planner was busy looking for some nearby excursion for the New Year Celebrations. He opted for Orchha. At that time I had no idea where Orchha is? And why are we going to such a less known place? Just because Datia was on the way, it was decided to take the first halt – breakfast halt at Datia. Till that time we had no idea that we are actually going to visit the same majestic fortress again.

My second visit to Datia can be considered to be a detailed one. After having traveled for around 50 minutes from Gwalior, we reached Datia. The atmosphere was perfect to move around, with the diminishing morning fog and clear blue sky. Just as we entered Datia, the same fortress again came back, looming large on the skyline. Very few of the group were actually interested in exploring the dark quarters of this medieval marvel. But, who could have stopped my gushing adrenaline to chase the towering Datia Mahal – that’s how I knew it for my first three visits. I was also quite excited to capture its beauty with my newly acquired auto focus camera.

Climbed up the stairs hurriedly and found myself at the grand entrance of the Datia Mahal. The miniature drawings could be spotted on the main gate itself. But, I along with Hirok were more interested in tracing the dark corners and the making the way for others rather than the architectural aspects and design patterns. The darkness was complete, and the eyes could hardly see where the stairs are heading. There were staircases on either side of the main entrance.

After some clueless wandering we reached the third floor. Light was peeping into the corridors through the intricately carved sandstone Jaalis. We were the leaders; the other interested lot followed us, while some decided not to waste any calories on climbing an old and abandoned palace. Excitement was high and Observation null – that’s how the whole thing can be explained. We were trying to venture each and every accessible chamber that one served as mahals for the royals. While I was still clicking at the third floor, dad had already reached the fifth. After having moved around the whole complex, we decide to have our breakfast and move ahead for Orchha. Though this visit of mine gave me an insight into the Datia Mahal, but what I saw was much less than what it had to offer.

I had just come back from Farakka – a brief nightmarish stay of four months in my native state. Had no assigned work at office, no place to sit, no idea of future posting and a total disillusioned situation at work. NTPC Electric Supply has just been founded, and we had the leisure time to understand and take over the dirty business of Electricity Distribution. Political maneuvers by Madam Mayawati and the subsequent toppling of her government made the quiz business much more serious. Dad had some work at Gwalior; Mom was also going with him; I also decided to accompany them. And came my third encounter with the Datia Mahal – still Datia Mahal.

Suranjan had come back to Gwalior from Rewa after completing his degree and Shailendra was also camping at Gwalior while preparing for CAT. As soon I reached there, old stories of Padhawali and Batesar resurfaced. While chatting on Suranjan’s rooftop, we decided to do something adventurous again. Suranjan was on his marks, but Shailendra was a bit defiant. But, it is always easy to convince old friends even if are wrong - that’s the spirit of Friendship. And we knew we are on the right track.

We decided to unexplore the barren patches of Bundelkhand in the scorching summer of April’03. “Chambal Express” again came handy; planned to club Datia and Jhansi in a day trip. Early morning mobile alarm woke me up. Though I was having a loose motion the previous day and had taken curd rice only as a precautionary measure, I decided to carry on the pre-chalked schedule. Took a tablet, got dressed up in a blue wrangler jeans and white kurta, stalked some packets of edibles, glucose in particular, loaded the camera and marched on.

Took the tickets and some cigarettes, whereas Suranjan decided to use his fake PH certificate to earn him a free travel and half fare for his companion – that is apna Shailendra. The same train, nearly same season, same landscape, and the same silent fortress of Datia only variable being the time. But, this time there’s no escape; we were moving closer to have a re-look into the Datia Mahal. Instead of dropping at Datia, we moved forward to the more popular Jhansi. While Suranjan and Shailendra had their plate of Dahi Jalebi near Minerva Cinema, I abstained. Having seeing off Jhansi fort and having only glucose since morning, we moved forward to Datia.

The journey in fact was a very special one. Walked for a while to find some means of travel to Datia; at last some desi Trekker – packed to the extent possible came to the rescue. The driver confirmed twice before starting his poorly maintained vehicle, whether every possible seat has been taken over. Not satisfied even then, he waived off to local commuters, to find any one who wishes to take a position at the rear deck. This practice has been quite prevalent in Gwalior also where people just hang on the Tempo rear, while enjoying an open-air travel at concessional prices, sometime paying not at all. Just one of the many shades of my mysterious motherland.

We reached Datia safely, surely and timely. Had some mousambi juice at a juice shop, took some cold drinks, chips packet and moved straightway to our destination – Datia Mahal. Just as we were entering the gate, a man enquired, “where are you going?” this was something strange as during my earlier visits nothing such happened. We told them that we have come from Gwalior and just want to see the Mahal. “Show me your bag? Do you people have any cameras? Photography is strictly prohibited.” I was quite puzzled at his behavior; “what has happened here since my last visit that this amount of restrictions have come into place?” I asked myself. But, I was not in a mood to give up. I told him about the rules that are being followed at all ASI monuments, and Datia is certainly not an exception. He clarified that it is state government protected monument and there are different set of rules framed by the state government. I put forward the example of Orchha before him, which is a state protected monument.

Gradually he not only softened his stand but also came with us and showed us the usually locked chambers, while I kept on clicking freely. India – strange places and stranger people. Later during our guided walk with Vijayan – the stubborn caretaker, we came to know that he belongs to south India and not quite comfortable with working in a place like Datia. No idli, sambhar, dosa, vada and more importantly no respect for law among the masses. The reason why he behaved in an erratic manner earlier became clearer to me. Adding to his frustration was the immense dry heat, and hardly any visitors to talk with. All alone in the royal quarters of Raja Bir Singh Deo.

Bir Singh Deo was an errant dacoit who rebelled against his own father, the ruler of Orchha and helped Jehangir, then an ordinary man in murdering Abul Fazl. Abul Fazl was among the navratnas that once adorned the Mughal Court. But, he was not in favour of Jehangir becoming the next Mughal Emperor. When the mighty Akbar was in his last ailing days, he called upon Abul Fazl to decide about his heir apparent. Apprehending the fallout of Abul Fazl reaching Delhi and conspiring against him, Jehangir asked for the services of the rebellious dacoit of Bundelkhand – Bir Singh Deo.

While Abul Fazl was camping near Atri, Bir Singh Deo struck accurately. With no other promising options, Akbar named Jehangir in his dieing moments. Becoming the master of the vast extended Mughal Empire and succeeding the great Akbar meant that Jehangir could actually relax and enjoy his years as emperor, which he aptly did. The services of Bir Singh Deo were recognized with the Kingdom of Buldelkhand as a prize. Now Bir Singh Deo was no more a dacoit rather he was the king. Infrastructural activities took centrestage. New palatial Complexes, small but strategic forts sprang up in a rapid pace in the whole of Buldelkhand. Datia Mahal came up during this same period with unique architectural fusion of Mughal and Rajput styles.

This Bundela masterpiece has 7 stories, 441 rooms, and 20 courtyards. It took about eight years for the local craftsmen to finish off this mammoth task. Sandstone was used primarily however at some places lime mortar has also been used. The porcelain tiles can still be seen, while the murals inside private chamber, had retained their original shiny and rich texture. What is unique about the architecture is the use of bridges on all four sides of the central tower that connect it with the rest of the complex. While in the third floor a wall with arched opening on both sides encloses the bridge, a colonnade of sandstone pillars guides you into the central tower along the bridge in the fourth floor. On the fifth, there’s an open walkway, with about a feet height sandstone slabs on the sides.

One more thing was particularly eye catching – the use of different colours for different type of stone blocks. The exteriors of central tower uses two contrasting shades of sandstone to made a visual impact. Ambulatory walkways around the central tower that extend over the supporting walls are beautifully supported with carved triangular slabs. Slanted lintels are also put in place in the same manner. The ceiling of the private room in the central tower has been beautifully decorated with some simple and symmetric stone in-laid patterns. After some frantic hovering here and there, Vijayan took us to the locked apartment where Bir Singh Deo had spent some of his days. It was quite normal, except some terrific aerial views and some well-preserved paintings. Took some photographs and moved ahead.

While Vijayan decided to take a leave with a fee of Rs. 50/- for showing us around, we decided to spend some time in the Mahal. Took refuge to a chhatri on the fourth floor and sat down for some rest and puffs of smoke. There was a sense of achievement, and satisfaction. The train mainline, between Delhi and Chennai can be spotted at a distance just on the other side of the palace encircling lake. We were all alone in the palace, looking over the whole Datia like a King. Enjoyed the chips and fizzy bottled soft drink and started for a photographic travail before calling it a day.

Not a single corner was left untouched on the third and fourth floor. Tried even to climb up the Chhtaris, but with no success. Handed the camera to Suranjan to capture what I might have missed. And he did a great job with the camera. By now the need for some solid foodstuff has already started to divert the mind. How long a person can survive with a glass of mousambi juice and some chips? Decided to pack the bags and head directly to some Samosa Wallah.

Coming down the stairs, had a final look at the medieval Mahal, with a hearty desire to come back again. Met Vijayan at the entrance gate and took the local busy and narrow lanes to the Datia market. The whole market area was full with dust and noise. At last we landed at a “hot and not so happening” food outlet on the main road – brainchild of an enterprising Sardar, the only mistake being the site selection. People in Datia hardly eat noodles, and pizzas and burgers don’t make Buldelkhandi mouth water. But, we had no problems with the vegetable noodle that the menu offered. Tempted by the howling noises from his stomach, Suranjan ordered a full plate, while Shailendra and I decided in favour of a half. And as thought of, while we had already finished off our plates, Suranjan was pleading us to share some of his own. Took an auto that dropped us at Datia Station, purchased the tickets, and boarded a passenger to Gwalior.

Reached Gwalior, got the photos printed at Jitu Jain’s Super Photo Lab, and moved towards the pavilion – Surya Vihar Colony. After a rejuvenating and refreshing bath, re-gathered at Suranjan’s rooftop to analyse the whole event and re-live the moments by glancing at the photographs. This is how my third and the most detailed visit till now came to an end.

But, the fire was still burning; the desire had the same intensity, as it was when I first saw it in my schooldays. But, no planned visit was on the cards, when suddenly I saw a silver lining in the dark cloud. Gwalior Consultancy work had just started, and it was decided to tour Gwalior every month at least once. When I glanced through the scope of work, Datia again resurfaced and so did the unknown desires. That meant I would have go to Gwalior, Datia, and other adjoining areas very soon.

An official visit on a hidden personal agenda was planned, and once again Gwalior fort, dominating the Gwalior skyline made its appearance just as my train – Bhopal Shatabdi, rushed into Gwalior in the horrifying summer of May. Had no idea that I may get a chance to visit Datia, but now Datia Mahal was no more there – at least for me, as I had just discovered that Govind Mandir is the actual name of what I knew as Datia Mahal. My newfound passion for Indian Architecture had driven me to go through, only pictorially some really good books. In fact, I was not alone whom this magical monument left spellbound, but it caught the imagination of many great architects. It was a personal favorite of Sir Edwin Lutyens, who designed New Delhi as we see it today.

On my second day at Gwalior after a very hectic late night marriage ceremony, I was totally exhausted and devoid of sleep. But, the very thought of having a look at Govind Mahal live drove me and pumped my physical energy level. Initially, it was planned to cover Dabra and proceed to Datia. But, I changed it and decided to go to Datia first. On our way, some fortification, next to the highway drew my attention. The bastions were intact, but the encroachers had taken away some of the stones to make their sheds. I decided to come back next time, and moved ahead.

Just when we were close to Dabra, one more fort came into the frame. This one was a very small on the top of an isolated cliff. Must have served as a residential complex of any high-ranking official. This too was added to the list of monuments to be covered in near future. Picked up the L&T Official at Dabra and after a terrible drive of 45 minutes, we reached Datia. The contractor took us to a MPSTC Hotel on relatively low hill just opposite to Govind Mahal. It gave me my fourth opportunity to examine the architectural details, and a view that I had never before.

Govind Mahal sitting pretty on the hill with the waters of Karna Sagar adding to its beauty and grandeur. From this angle you can actually avoid the modern structures and hutments that often disturb the whole ambience. The view can be termed as a timeless medieval view – very much how it would have looked during its heydays. Some dhobis busy in their routine work could also be seen. I gazed at the palace for quite a while with some mild puffs of smoke. Some other stray monuments did instigated in me, a desire to explore them, but definitely not this time. Had our lunch and moved to the site, one after another. The second site at Datia Sub-station offered a view that justified the positioning of the palace atop the hill.

Other than Govind Mahal, this visit of mine exposed me to some of the less known and insignificant monuments from the bygone Raj era. The new palace, build much later than the Govind Mahal; the official complexes of the erstwhile princely state, build in Indo-Saracenic architecture; many gates that once led the royal pathways to the palaces; all scattered, with no one really concerned about them. But, the good part is these things have become interweaved with the local lifestyle and no one thinks them as alien. I was told that the new palace now house a full fletched market.

With few of my Questions answered and many more new queries being erupted, I came back from Datia. I don’t know when my fifth visit to Datia would take place, but I m damn sure that it is inevitable. Time is the only factor and I have the patience to wait for the reunion. Reached Gwalior by 05 00 hrs, dropped Appa Rao Garu and after finishing some other official works, decided to wait at the railway station. I was recollecting all the encounters one by one, and hoped for a detailed visit after the monsoons.

Tribal Heartland of Rajasthan

2009-11-08T22:55:00.000-08:00

Every trail has a unique character; be it the solo travels in the Karnataka countryside; the group excursions around Mumbai; the family pilgrimages to the otherwise dull temple towns. But, this one was surely a different one from the previous ones. Two main characteristics that I believe will stand the test of time and remain afresh in my mind would be (a) the speed and (b) the excitement of knowing the Unknown; exploring something really wild terrains with even wilder degrees of uncertainty. Our driver could have abandoned us! The police may had taken us for an enquiry to the police station; we could have landed in an underground Baoli; bitten by a poisonous snake; taken hostage by the veteran dacoits or may be could have been tempted beyond control and brought back some souvenirs from that invincible fortress of Timungurh. But, what, indeed, we brought back were loads of memories, a bagful of pictures, taken with three cameras by four shutterbugs and a good amount of muscular pain.

The trip itself had a lot of planning into it before we zeroed in “KARAULI” as the destination for the extended weekend starting 15th August 2008. SP, Sunita, Syam, and I were the team members with no declared captain as such, in short 3S+M, sounds like a management concept. Although, the journey bookings had been done by Sunita quite in advance when the moment actually arrived everything seemed entangled and at the eleventh hour we were exploring the alternate ways of reaching Karauli, if our train ticket remains waitlisted. But, all our fears proved false as our tickets got confirmed. I, left Sarojini Nagar, well I advance, as it has now become a real difficult to move past the heavily beefed up security cordon in view of the Independence Day celebrations. On my way, I came very close to being frisked by the young Delhi Police Constable, but probably my big black glasses and shaven head made him to undone his previous decision. He asked, “Kahan ja rahey ho?” I replied, “KARAULI” in a serious tone. Bidding adieu to the constable I moved past only to be stopped a further ahead because of a VIP movement. At this point of time, I did have a few moments of nervousness.

At last, I reached new Delhi Station well before the scheduled departure time; 3Ss could not be seen anywhere. I reached the designated platform and waited when Syam spotted me in the crowd. It was a small chat and some leg pulling as usual before our train chugged in. We had to walk quite a distance to board the train. SP was quite excited at the very thoughts of finding some gorgeous Punjabi co-passengers. After those rounds of tea made with tea bags, we had our breakfast. By this time the terrain has changed considerably. The pools were overflowing because of the last night downpour and the sky was quite dull, pregnant with clouds.

As they say, “When you stomach is full, your mind starts to work”. The plain bread slices and pale cutlet/ omelets have already kicked our nervous arteries as I took out my print-outs on KARAULI. Literally, every one has done some level of research on the subject, but, no one was willing to accept the same. Just as I started to read on the script loudly, Syam came up with his knowledge of the Geography strengthened by the District Website. Soon, Sunita chipped in with her knowledge of Timungurh Fort. A week before the trip, I had scrapped some links on her Orkut Profile which she had read very seriously. I do believe girls are more sincere when it comes to studies. Need any proofs! Just see the Boards Exam Results – Every year the girls over power the nalaayak “boys”. After a lot of deliberation we decided that we must get down at MAHAVIR JI and from there, should go to KARAULI via Timungurh. A few minutes later we were at Mahavirji Railway Station, totally clueless about our next course of action and welcomed by hoards of local jeeps, Marshals, and a bus meant for Jain Pilgrims.

There are many cons of not knowing the exact pronunciation in local language, I mean, the Phonetics, at times could actually prove quite vital. As we asked for “TIMAANGARH” what should be “TIMUNGARH” it took quite some time to make them understand where we intend to go. At last, keeping aside the omnipresent worries of some really bad roads, “Girdhari” came forward to be our sarathi. This association will stay for next few days. Before starting GL did his bit by warning us that at TF it would be difficult to get even a glass of drinkable water. The breakfast had already done its part and I was feeling really hungry. A local shop selling some freshly made local snacks came to our rescue. We packed some Kachoris, Samosas, Jhewar and some bottles of Bisleri. Having cleaned the eatables and taken the fuel we moved towards the abandoned medieval fortress of Timungurh, amidst the erstwhile infamous dacoit territory.
My failed attempts at those IAS Exams with history as optional had given me a fair idea of Indian History and I do remember some of those odd dates even today. Just imagine the time when Allaudin Khalji was marauding the Northern Plains to strengthen the Delhi Sultanate and the temples that stood on his way were simply razed off the ground. This was not new and unprecedented as a few years earlier Ghori had already done some real damage to the priceless Indian Heritage – no point arguing Hindu or Muslim. Malik Kafur, the general appointed by Allaudin had even gone as far as Rameshwaram in the south. In the years, to follow Delhi Sultanate is only going to be strengthened and many more Hindu Temples were to lay into ground. During such times, when religious identity was in crisis, some of the Hindu Rulers decided to move many of the temples and idols from their original location to a place of safety. Timungurh was an easy choice. It’s inaccessibly and adjoining rough terrain provided the natural defense and Timungurh, thus, became a warehouse, a treasure trove of many priceless idols hidden deep within its womb. I suppose this was somewhere in the 12th century. But, how thereafter this fortress went into oblivion is quite an unanswered puzzle. Centuries later, it was nearly taken over by the forest and no one tried to venture into these uncharted terrains. However, during the later half of 18th Century local cattle grazers frequenting the terrain found some of the precious artifacts that led to a spree of loot and pillage in the next few decades to come. It is said that the whole thing became quite organized as helicopters were also used to airlift some of the idols. Today, because of sustained efforts of local MP and deliberations held in the Indian Parliament, the area, now classified as “Gair Mumkin Qila” (Fort land unfit for cultivation) is in the process of being notified as “Protected Monument” and some efforts are already underway to create awareness about the whole area as a Tourist Circuit. For interested in History and particularly historical dates, Timungurh Fort that traces its initial fortifications way back to 12th century, was reconstructed by one Timun Paal, who shared the same family lineage as the Rajput Rulers of nearby Bayana. The vast expanses of this fort even came under the Delhi sultanate followed by the slaughter of Mohamed Ghori.

The journey was refreshing and rejuvenating, punctuated by those bumpy potholes and overflowing rivers and some unstoppable chattering by SPS –Qualtee n Engining. For some potholes, at first it seemed that we may have to take a different path altogether when GL did his heroics to move us through. I still remember those fantastic lines, “RANA NE SOCHA IS PAAR, TAB TAK CHETAK THA US PAAR” that we had in our Hindi Grammar Book explaining “ATISHYOKTI ALANKAAR”. Also worthwhile noting were the colorfully painted local houses all along the ride. One more thing caught my attention –was a skeletal structure of a Hut done with Sandstone Slabs, what is usually done in rest of India with steel sections. The ride also reminded me of my visits to the tribal villages around Massanjore in Jharkhand. Just as in Jharkhand here also the natives mostlty the fierce tribals of Meenas and Gurjars prefer a topless bath irrespective of gender. At that point of time, GL was our Chetak, and no one can actually stop him. The only vehicular traffic that caugt our attention largely contained some local made JUGADS. Every time a jugad passed I added, “ek aur gaya.” At this Sunita said, “Tum kya issi tarah KARAULI tak jugad dikahtey dikhatey jaaogey?”

Now for the novice let me explain what a Jugad is. Jugad, literally meaning facilitator, was designed by a farmer using his diesel water pump. Technically Jugad is an absolutely basic four-wheeler, with scavenged gearbox and rear axle, no bodywork and a diesel engine normally used for water pumps. Because of the cost considerations, Jugad is used as a prominent mode of transport in parts of Rajasthan, Haryana and Punjab although it is neither registered nor legally recognized. A typical country made Jugad costs around 30,000 INR can attain speeds as high as 40 km/hr and 30 persons can enjoy the joyride at the same time.

A journey of roughly an hour took us to a serene spot – a lake skirting the lines of fortifications. It looked pretty shallow as we could spot some local women taking out “PAANI WAALA SHRIGARA” from the lake bed. A few more local beauties could be spotted near the main ghat taking an all open bath. I decided not to intrude into their moment of privacy and kept on clicking the interesting flora. This is also the place that offers the best views of the fort in terms of coverage. The main gate could be clearly seen and so were the fortifications on the periphery of adjoining hills. Sunita went to have a chat with the local ladies as we 2S+M kept ourselves engrossed with the team of langurs sitting on the tree nearby.

Moving past the main gate, we entered the Timungurh Fort. The entrance reminded me of the one at Badami Fort, quite like siq in Petra, Jordan but somewhat smaller in scale. The gate has been created by cutting into the Rocky Mountains enveloping the entire fortress. We were all alone inside the Fortress – No one could be spotted in the near vicinity. Getting down from the otherwise cramp rear seat, I did some stretching before deciding to climb up the crumbling blocks. Syam and I found a way through the fallen walls with overgrown creepers right into the top. The views were simply awesome. Timungurh was silent – nothing could be heard except for the buzzing jungle background sound. The photographer in me took charge of the situation as I did some decent photo shoots. The atmosphere was quite like KALINJAR near KHAJURAHO. By the time we finished off the photo shoot, 2S also climbed up and the crew was ready. But, where to move now; the climb looked quite steep and no path could be tracked on the ground. And then came our messiah, “Ramesh Ji”. Ramesh Ji was a local man who frequently ventures into the unknown corners of Timungurh with his herd of Goats. He readily offered to show us the fortress however we later felt that his GANIT is pretty poor. What he claimed to be a 15 minute trek actually took close to an hour.
Our trek into the fort started through a fortification entirely fallen with Ramesh Ji leading the entourage. Nearby an age old Baoli could be easily spotted. Although the Baoli looked quite a mystery we could hardly garner the courage to venture into its dark corners. Initially the slope was gentle and it’s quite a fun, intermittently we found some loose rock stacks purposely kept to create a hindrance for an outsider, not familiar with the jungle trek. Adding to the prevailing sense of mystery, Ruined Temples made their routine appearances just as we traversed through the jungle. By this time, Syam was leading with Ramesh Ji, followed by Sunita, while I was third, busy capturing the jungle life and somewhat troubled by the creepers tangling with my floaters. Last but not the least, SPS followed us. “This used to be the market places,” Ramesh Ji explained pointing to an abandoned labyrinth of stone pillars. The silence was shrouded with mystery. What, if, I get an asharfi! May be an Ashta Dhatu Figurine, or may be map suggesting the way to some hidden treasure. All my childhood dreams came back in a flash. The Main Temple that looked so near actually drifted in space like a mirage.

Further ahead, a big pool of water waited for us. It seemed that the water body was man made for the obvious reasons of supplying water. Actually such pools are quite a common feature in all of the hill forts from the medieval times – Gwalior, kalinjar, Ajaigarh, Deogarh, Talbehaat, Narwar and others. Once again the stillness of its water made my imagination go awry and I could see an under image of whatever lies on its bed. Images of Rani-ki-Vav, Patan taken during British times when the Vav was completely filled with mud and silt instantly came to my mind. Who knows what lies beneath these stagnant waters? “May be, we will never be able to know that. Who cares for that after all? Moving past the lake we saw the many buildings that at one point of time were shopping Malls. Creepers have taken over the entire structure and we felt it prudent not to venture. Even though, many centuries have passed and many slaughters have been impounded the fallen pillars, the carved panels, all indicate to a glorious past. We waited for a while for a photo session near another group of ruined structures. By this time, we all were in heavy sweat but spirits were still undaunted.
The architecture was predominantly Hindu – Trabeate Style with Pinkish Sandstone being mainly used. Many local variants of Pratihara Form of Temple making can actually be seen all over central North India and Timungurh is no exception. Apart from the massive blocks Timungurh environs had a lot of animal life within its overgrown jungles that drew my attention. A whole lot of creepy reptiles – some visible by naked eyes others not so; families of wild insects – quite unaware of our presence – could be seen in plenty. I took some really good, macros with my H1, have a look and decide for yourself if they can be tagged with the prefix “GOOD.”

“Saab! This where the helicopters landed, and airlifted the idols,” explained Ramesh Ji. We were at the top of Timungurh Fort on the Main Mandapa of probably the loftiest of many temples encircled by the massive lines of Fortifications. I can bet and others can testify that the experience was one of the out-of-this-world experiences that will remain etched in our memories for rest of our lives. It was all vibrant, green and dense – as far as we could see. It was even difficult to make out the route that brought us to this location. Dismantled pieces were lying in the near vicinity; Sectional blocks that once adorned the ceiling, the stone blocks supporting the horizontal slabs spanning the vertical ones with elephantine figurines, and many other unidentifiable components were lying in total neglect. An evanescent tempting idea of taking one of those souvenirs back home did cross my mind for a fraction of a second. Enjoyed the views for quite some time and much against the repeated advice of Ramesh Ji, we decided not to go for a climb up to the top.
The very thought of reaching Karauli at time drove us to pack up and descend down to the foothills. “What shall be our next course of action if Girdhari has abandoned us? I enquired. “How can you even think of such horrid things? Sunita replied. “What’s there? We will walk down to Karauli, Syam quipped in with his usual tone of dare devilish style. I told them my Kalinjar experience to take off some of the time and fatigue. This time Ramesh Ji took a different and short path and within a few minutes we could actually spot our vehicle. Girdhari was still there but was visibly anxious. He had a whole new story to share – the drama part. The last stretch of descend sprinkled with loosely held stones was a particularly difficult one. SP Sir! As expected was the last man to come down the indomitable Timungurh.

Water bottles that we had stacked up at Mahavirji came handy for pumping back some life into our bodies. “Where you all have been? The Police had come to question about you people. I did call you people but got no response. They have asked us to wait till they reappear for investigation”, Girdhari spilled out in an uncontrolled manner. “Don’t worry, let him come, we answer them suitably, replied SP. So, necessarily we had to wait. Sunita n SPS went for a refreshing face wash from a nearby primitive hand pump, while I abstained and enjoyed my puffs. Waiting, as usual can make you feel boring and the same happened to us. We decided to move on and meet up with the inspector at the local police station rather than waiting there. Waited on our way back near the main fort entrance to photographs some beautiful and playful butterflies and water drips coming from unknown sources. The ride from Timungurh towards Masalpur was refreshing and provided an ideal setting to show off my singing talent with some of my golden favorites of Kishore da. “Heera ki Tammanna hai……..” A brief interruption by a gorgeous monitor lizard was like an icing on the cake. What more we could have asked for?

The inspector waved off his stick and that was enough for us to understand that he wanted to inquire us about our intentions in connection to our venture into the otherwise uncharted territory. SPS took the lead and handled the case very well; further the whole episode made us to conclude that Police in Rajasthan is not as bad as in many other Indian states. Having satisfactorily answered all their queries, we moved forward and after a dusty and bumpy drive we reached Karauli. Girdhari did propose to show us some waterfall near the outskirts, but we turned down his proposal as there was “no” consensus. The toil had just started to take its toll on the body and mind, and what we all needed badly was some rest. Without wasting any further time, we reached the grand and only good heritage property of Karauli – Bhairon Vilas Palace. Struck a deal with Girdhari for the next day and bidding adieu to him we logged in, only to realize afterwards that we had left our only packet of Classic Ultra Milds in his Marshal and the best brand that one could get in Karauli Town is “Wills navy Cut”.

Standing in stark contrast to the native Rajasthani environment, the palace has an undoubtedly colonial look with supporting Steel sections from Middle borough, U.K. and Electrical fittings from General Electric. But, what was rather abnormal about the building is the lack of symmetry in the layout. Usually all colonial buildings in other parts of Princely India by R. F. Chisholm, Charles Mant, Henry Irwin, Emerson, and other largely follow a symmetrical layout. For Karauli, a 17 gun-salute Princely State this was really something of a super luxury. While the Gaekwads called in Charles Mant, and the Scindias went for Filose, Karauli might have taken help of some minor practitioner of Indo-Saracenic style Architecture.

We stayed in one of the less-illustrious, cornered, palace especially identified for Indian tourists, known for their lack of manners and civic sense, amongst the cluster of colonial constructions dating back the middle of the 19th century. But, none of the palaces could make an impact for their architecture and execution. Rather, I would say many of the Dak Bungalows in the provincial capital of Audh were larger and grander than these palatial mansions. Even the Zamindar Baari of “Mookhopadhyas” at Gobardanga near my native place in rural Bengal is more impressive in terms of architecture and landscaping. But, what was unmistakably present was the rustic charm that abound the environs. A small sleepy princely state waking up to the British way of life, slowing rubbing & opening his eyes to a new world, new mannerism, new habits, new pastimes. There was a race to be the front runner in acquiring the Rolls Royce, the lavishly designed saloons, own hill stations, railways, and in pleasing the residents and the viceroy. Close your eyes and you can actually see that lost world, but being in Karauli does help you to simulate that bygone era quite easily.

Tring! Tring! Come our of your dream and read on. A plateful of crispy pakoras made with coarse besan came and vanished even before the tea could be served. “One more plate please!” I asked the young guy with SP cautioning us not to go for it. By the time we finished our pakoras and chai, the stomach was nearly full. SPS and Syam went for a local stroll as I freshened up with a great rejuvenating bath.

If I am asked to pile up Top 10 Best Advertisement Campaigns in recent times, then I feel the one titled “KEEP WALKING” with Roberto Baggio sporting that ponytail is probably the best among the latest ones. And we were also on the same philosophical mind set. While Sp & Syam came back from their stroll, I was ready with Johnny Walker + Cranberry Nectar + Haldiram Bhujia. We had to ask for some extra chairs in the room. Enjoyed the drink to the fullest while reviewing the photographic exploits of the day. Three Cameras and infinite visions – each photograph told a different story. I did really well with my macros. “Tomorrow morning I will take even better macro shots, said SPS. Sunita replied, “Why are you competing with him? Do it if you really desire so.”

Having done with the drinks and with hardly any space for Dinner, we moved into a large hall, remodeled to work as a Dining Hall for Guests. The Hall was simple, not extraordinary like the one at Jai Vilas Palace, Gwalior or Lukshmi Vilas palace in Vadodara. Food was really good, less spicy, and less oily somewhat the same that we get in our mothers kitchen. After a post dinner walk in the palace complex and some moments with the chained canines of Karauli Maharaja, we retired to bed. As soon as I put my head on the pillow the unconsciousness crept in however a little chat with Syam was the prelude to a good sound sleep for the next six hours.

I got up quite early even though the usual freshness was missing. There was some laziness in the neural networks however connectivity was intact. Just as I kept looking around for my specs, this thought came into my mind. “What a miss!” I had missed to put my batteries into the charging station. That meant no photographs for the day. Well! For my sort of guy who even skips a place where photography is prohibited, this meant a real disaster. What’s the fun of visiting a place if I cannot picture that, after all I don’t have powerful prose like Ruskin Bond. For me blending is necessarily required to capture and convey my experiences. The reason for the miss probably fatigue caused due to long slog in the day and walker in the blood.

Immediately putting the batteries in place and freshening up, moved out for a walk. It was still dark and because of the morning dew quite comfortably cold. There was no trace of Girdhari as of now. Syam was ready by the time I moved in and was ready in a few minutes with my partially charged batteries. The delay of around 45 minutes for the initial kick off could be attributed to SPS and Girdhari for sure. Anyway we embarked upon our first excursion into the Karauli Wildlife sanctuary. We left Karauli town and moved on towards the famous Kaila Devi Temple with no intention of visiting the temple as such. It was a conscious, unanimous decision to skip the breakfast and soon we were at the temple complex of Kaila Devi. Huge humps of divine garb were spread all across; roads were dusty to the highest imaginable extent; ram shackled shops on either side of road offering food, divine offering and what not. All drew attention of my skeptic iconoclastic mind immediately and to put it simple for me there was nothing divine that appealed my senses.

Let’s start a brief discussion on Karma, Dharma, and God. Firstly what do you think is the purpose of a human life? Are the Buddhist monks right in their abstinence from the worldly desires or the Sikhs correct in accepting worldly responsibilities and living to the fullest? May be the Zoroastrians are right for their interpretation of usefulness of human being, although in physical form, even after death. I have even heard Cyrus Broacha on record that we would like to be gorged upon by vultures after he dies. Does that serve the purpose of a life? I find much aligned with the sayings of Sri Ramakrishna and Vivekananda. What we do in our life times is actually much more important than being gorged upon by the scavenging vultures. And what’s the point of putting the scavengers on the job when some of those body parts can benefit many needy human beings – calorific v/s functional use. A new pair of eyes could open up a new surprising world for someone who had not seen the light of the day. Further, the never-ending gaps between spiritual and scientific must be reduced to the extent possible. What can be termed as a good act that adds on to your “PUNYA” account is highly relative. For a four standard school drop-out, trained rigorously at military camps, killings the KAFIRS is actually a pious job and purpose of his life.

The so-called Wildlife sanctuary is actually devoid of any wildlife. We did move along for few kilometers but nothing of significance could be spotted. We got down at many intermediate locations offering picturesque views of the whole area, but no wild life for sure. The mild arguments with the forest officials at the main entrance had actually added up to our expectations. Having moved quite some distance, we reached another office structure of State Forest Department. The ageing forest personnel did gave us some inputs about the nearby places, but also cautioned us against venturing too much deeper into the jungles. By this time, I was getting quite impatient as images of City Palace that I have seen on internet as part of my pre-tour research were reappearing again and again. At last, much to my relief, we decided to wind up and head towards the City. An interesting talk on various frivolous matters kept us engaged on our return journey. While SP could not stop enumerating the many aspects of Bengali girls; Sunita asked, “Yeh Bangali ladke itney thakey huye kyon hote hai? I believe to tease me hoping that the comment would help instigate a sense of identity in me and could lead to a fiery reply. Contrary to the expected outburst I replied in a cool and calculated way, “Thake huye nahin, who log mature aur intelligent hote hai; unka taste different hota hai.” While all this went Syam remained quite like Jai of Sholay…….Attitude, Haan!

The local bazaar near the Kaila Mata Temple provided us with some great snap provoking locales and some freshly drawn out Kachoris from the nearby local eatery. The Kachoris were really good, stuffed with onion and served with Saunth – deep red colored sweet chutney made with a mixture of Indian spices and tamarind. Having stuffed beyond our capacities, we moved ahead. And yes! Its here I found my photograph of the trip, have a look. It was Raksha Bandhan that’s the reason for an unusual buzz among the Bazaars. Raksha Bandhan is an Indian festival that is quite popular amongst the North Indian Rajput Populace and has a historical significance. Here, a sister ties a Rakhi (a decorated piece of thread) on her brother’s wrist and in return promises to protect whatever may be the consequences. However, now-a-days the festival has changed considerably and when our class teacher forced upon her pupil this tradition requiring the girl students to tie down on their Boy classmates, surprisingly our class room was literally emptied on the day this fanfare of love & caring was supposed to take place.

Although, we were supposed to go the hotel and freshen up before moving to the city Palace Complex, lack of time forced us to directly move to City Palace. Moving past the dusty by lanes of Karauli town we reached the epicenter of Karauli Citadel.
“Karauli always sleeps” This sums up very well for the inhabitants of this medieval settlement. Sounds pretty much like the Citibank punch line. May god please save Vikram Pandit from being sacked? Planning is something that is totally missing here. The streets follow no fixed pattern and so are the adjoining clusters of houses that have cropped up along these streets. With literacy percentages close to the half mark and a skewed sex ratio this place is still to come out of its medieval shackles and welcome the tides of modernity. The guys roaming around here and there, gossiping and intermittently laughing at the tourists could hardly tell where the City place is, which sat hardly 300 meters from them. That’s how this place is, largely consisting of the Meenas and the Gurjars – both of tribal origin but the former have got the official status, while the latter strives to do so under the aegis of Mr Bainsla, this palace lacks sophistication in any sense. Even for the royal families, the rays of western education and modernity are something of a taboo. Karauli remained the capital of Jadon Rajputs who were known for the stubbornness and stupidity. Their connection with other ruling houses of Jadons such as Sabalgarh in nearby Madhya Pradesh is quite well established. They had many attributes common to the dacoits of Chambal and believed in “Pran Jaye par vachan na jaye” sort of Rajput valor. Rough inhospitable Terrain and lack of new ideas flowing-in could be the reason of this. When I asked the Palace attendant, “How many gun salutes did this state had during the princely days?” he was clueless. “Maximum - the highest that any other Indian state had” he replied showing his full faithfulness for the family that had fed his generations. When other progressive states like Baroda, Gwalior, Mysore, Kapurthala, Patiala, Cooch Behar were busy building great mansions, sending their wards to British universities, eying European wives, organizing tiger shoots for the British Resident and trying aggressively to imitate all British things, these guys remained busy among themselves fighting with other and protecting their prestige. That’s how the overall psyche is – and somehow I got a feeling that the population is still be liberated from inhibition of their past. Please excuse me if I sound a bit sound a bit snobbish but I must tell you that even lower middle class masses clinging on to the overcrowded buses in Kolkata suburbs are years ahead if compared to the socially upward population of Karauli.

The presence of present maharaja at the City palace for Raksha Bandhan kept us waiting at the entrance, while some foreign tourists slowly crept in. Although the place is now managed by a trust, it is being used by the ruling family as their own belonging. With every passing minute, I was pressing the side button on my mobile to scan through the time. Syam tried his best to know about the various timing details about the train from Mahavirji Railway Station. We even tried to convince the gate keeper to ignore our dark skins and allow us to enter as we are also staying at the new palace as guests. Our arguments endorsed by the Palace attendant over phone also proved futile. At last, the maharaja passed by in his FORD ENDEVOUR and we all heave of a sigh of relief.

We hardly had 45 minutes to explore the whole palatial complex – what a pity! My first glimpse at the wall frescos gave me a thrust to explore in finer details. But, contrary to other fresco hubs of Shekhawati, frescos in Karauli, fade out when you go in for a closer look for sheer lack of restrained execution. The frescos come nowhere close to those painted havelis of Mahansar or Nawalgarh or those painted palaces in Junagarh Fort in Bikaner. The patterns are repetitive and the colours have faded. Some of the frescos have been badly redone by the modern painters. Imagination is also missing. No experimentation as such rather the overall motive it seems was to cover the entire area. The color BLUE has been used predominantly. The wall surface lacks that bouno fresco finish and some of the wall plaster has stared to fall off. The tour was a guided one – with one attendant kept busy by those mongering monkeys that now control some of the palace quarters.

The first hall that served as Diwan-e-Aam has an array of pillars, relatively better painted is a visual treat. Floral motifs could be seen all over the pillars and the ceiling. Some of the royal carriages laden with dust have been put up to give a glimpse into the royal lifestyle of those days. Hidden staircases were also a common norm here, just like Bundelkhand, however the latter are more innovatively and delicately designed. Taking one such set of staircase we moved into the upper levels. The palatial chambers at upper levels are also in a bad state of upkeep with no lighting arrangements at all. Took some photographs with flash light that’s something I usually hate to. Peeping into the dark and ghostly alleys of this erstwhile palace one can gauge the oblivion it is now into. Although, it is usually publicized is that the palace treasures have been robbed off by looters the fact is it the royal family that organized all those loots and the objects of desire could be still be spotted in their new European Palace of the maharaja. One of the more outspoken attendants, seemingly not having the same allegiance what his forefathers had, even testified the same. With the advent of democracy, peoples other than those belonging to ruling class have found voices and are able to put together their own government.

Today power lies with them and the ignorance of centuries occasionally finds a vent for its violent expression. The tribal majorities of Meenas and Gurjars have tasted power and there are in no mood to accept and acknowledge the superiority of any maharaja, even symbolic in nature. Actually with abolition of Privy Purses of these princely states, former prime minister and probably the most dominating lady in the modern Indian political history nailed the final pin into the coffin limiting their status at par with other ordinary citizens of Indian Union. The initial breach of trust by Lord Mountbatten and then the gradual dilution of their symbolic rights have left these states with nothing more than a glorious history. They could no more use their “KRL” registration for their imported cars and “RJ” was the only option left. No subjects to follow their orders; no grand palaces to match with the royal lifestyles; no honorary titles; no special privileges; no gun salutes. It’s really difficult to think off the pain a maharaja has to gulp in to adjust to these new realities of post-Independent India.

Moving past the various Mahals – some relatively well kept while many languishing in shambles, we reached the roof top. The designs are predominantly Hindu and follow the general pattern of Mahals bordering the rectangular sides of the open courtyard. The jharokha, meant for giving visual pleasure for the women in the Zenana, were adorned with faded paintings. The use of mirror for decorating the ceilings is quite pervasive and was soothing to eyes. Having clicked a satisfactory number of pictures, all along, we moved on towards the area facing the main fort entrance. This fag end of the massive palace complex has wide and open courtyard quite different from the other cluttered ones. Laced with some carved stone plaques this courtyard had a different architectural flavour, and signifies a change in the royal taste with time. This did give us some really good aerial views of the fort entrance and nearby areas. By this time, we have already gone past the time deadlines and were only hoping that our delayed arrival of our train at Mahavirji. Finishing off the last quarters in a hurried manner, we left for our Marshal, waiting outside the palace. “Straight to hotel and then to Mahavirji” a command was delivered to Girdhari and he responded with flawless and timely execution.

A brief break of 10-15 minutes at the hotel and bidding adieu to SPS+S, we, I and Syam left for Mahavirji. But, the leftover JW made us to stop at one roadside shop to stack up some fluid filler. And then started an act of great restrain and art, much like those NATS walking on tight ropes – to mix up the things and make two equal parts. The drink was simply great – JW, Cranberry nectar, 7up all mixed up in unknown proportion served with Kurkure and Lays American Cheese & Onion. The ride was rejuvenating after that whirlwind trip and visually unmatchable for the brilliant clarity attributable to recent rains and all-pervasive fluorescence. The rivulets were oozing with water, slightly muddy but full of enthusiasm. Soon, the drink started to act on the nervous system, and the things became even better. All our worries related to getting the train were subsided by the nervous curfew. But, Girdhari did his job, very well, and dropped us at Mahavirji quite well in time. Having paid him with a handsome tip and taking the tickets – ORDINARY – we headed for platform No. 2. The neural curfew was in total command with demands for doses of nicotine. But, it was really difficult now-a-days to get tobacco products near railways stations, thanks to Ambumani Ramdoss, and at a remote place like Mahavirji that was a distant possibility to get anything to smoke. Syam bhai came up with an amazing display of his newly acquired PR tactics to salvage something out of literally nothing.

Tau and Tai were on their way back to their village and Tai was going furious. The reason her fury was quite obvious as Tau had her to walk a few miles to reach the railway station. Sympathizing with Tai paid back immediate dividends as she started to treat us like her own kids; I can only say with conviction, that even today the emotional bonding in villages is much stronger than of the metropolises and with the advent of the materialistic mindset we are definitely losing some of our emotional warmth. “Dekh na beta, kahan se paidal chala kar laya hai!” complaining about Tau. Tau took the comment very sportily and smiled. That was enough for Syam to ask, “Tau, Bidi to pilao?” and thus came out the Great Indian Bidi, tobacco elegantly wrapped in tendu patta and delicately knotted with a light white thread. Some say it is less harmful than cigarettes putting together their valuable knowledge. Munglure, 501, and Bungaal are some of popular brands with shiny photographs of their creators on the paper packing for a bunch of 15 sticks. This bunch is usually priced at pocket friendly 5-10 Indian rupees. Technically, a Bidi is really economical when compared to a cigarette for the sheer number of puffs, directly related to the overall length of stick, it offers. That’s because after initial 5-6 puffs, the cigarette looses its charm and finishing off is a mere necessity. A Bidi however, is more compact; has less per unit cost; can be heated when damp; the only possible con is the lack of a filter if you can discount that long lasting smell that simply refuses to die down. But, otherwise in terms of nicotine intake per stick is somewhat compensated because of the lesser number of puffs per stick that a Bidi has.

Enough on Bidis! I will surely add on once I get some new updates about immortal timeless pastimes of Indian male – rural as well as urban. The bidis supplied by Tau went in smokes in a whisker and the impact was immediate. Just as the train was about to chug in, we had a brief chat with Bhuri. Bhuri was on her routine round plundering the fresh grown loads of grass near the railway tracks and taking some of it in her mouth with her maneuvers. A slow chew on that had left her mouth foamy, and she was in no mood to stop that. When we did some poor imitation to communicate with her, she did respond to my haeaaaaa with a nod.

Ticket less Rail Travel in Northern India is not much of a problematic proposition however, that was not our idea. Our problem was that we had an ordinary ticket and needed a place to sit in an air-conditioned coach. Even this is not a very difficult job, but, I somehow, am not comfortable in managing such situations. Saxenaji, Traveling Ticket Examiner (TTE) usually referred as TT by most of the passengers because of the phonetic similarity of the two and laziness coupled with lack of appropriate knowledge on part of the speaker was the person in-charge of the Air-Conditioned Coaches. To the benefit of ours, Saxenaji, epitomized the typical Indian TTE, greedy and corrupt to the core; will even haggle for 10 bucks and can even rent out his own seat if paid amply. “Please sit in AS2 and let me see what I can do for you?” replied Saxenaji to our anxious looks. That was sufficient for us to understand that the deal is on. Soon after the train left Mahavirji, Saxenaji appeared like the mythological creature of Narada, and asked us to come out of the air-conditioned areas for a negotiation near the Toilet. ‘Do you want an Excess Charges Bill? Definitely not, we replied. He asked us to sit at No. 51 and with an assurance coming afterwards to collect his service charge.

Shrugging off the immediate worries, I moved the curtains to one side to glance the outdoors while Syam kept himself busy by looking at his co-passengers. Bayana Fort perched atop a moderately sized hill and a few minutes ride from Mahavirji drew out attention. Syam came up with an unfeasible idea of getting down at Bayana and explore the fortress. “We have got down at Bayana and now heading to the Fort,” we informed SPS over telephone just to make him feel jealous.

A reunion after quater of a century

2009-11-08T21:44:00.000-08:00

The decision was final and the announcements were made. Malay & Patra would be going to Jammu for collecting some official data relating to J&K PDD. We started on 22nd March 2004. We took some tour advance and got our tickets booked on 20th March. On 22nd Sunday night, we started from old Delhi Railway Station. I reached the station well in advance and I was glancing at the reservation charts for my name as we had a waitlisted ticket. I got my name in coach No. A1, RAC Seat No. 48. I thought that might be tonight I will have to sleep in sitting posture only.

But, the other two names, I found on the list were really strange and interesting. “Shabana Azmi, Javed Akhtar!” how can such celebrities travel in AC 2-tier? That was my immediate thought. Enjoyed the Biryani that I had taken from the station and went to bed after a smoke.

Next day i.e. 23rd march 2004 around 11:45 a.m. we landed in Jammu. “Jammu” got its name from the suryavanshi king Jambolochan. Dogra rulers ruled Jammu in the later years. Karan Singh was the last king of the erstwhile Dogra Dynasty. I had some knowledge about Karan Singh and his family, as his son was married to the princess of Gwalior i.e. daughter of shrimant Madhav Rao Scindia. I was also feeling quite nostalgic, as Jammu was the place where I was born. My parents stayed in Jammu for about 3 years from 1976 onwards. Straightway, we headed for the hotel – K C Residency on Residency Road near the very famous, Raghunath Mandir. The hotel was really good, probably the best in Jammu and around Jammu. It had a revolving restaurant “FALAK” on the seventh floor from where one can have a look at the lights of “holy Vaishno Devi Shrine” in clear sky conditions.

Jammu as such is dominated by Hindus and most of them Brahmins. Because of the persistent attacks on Kashmiri Pandits, some had taken refuge in Jammu. But even Jammu was not spared by the dirty plans of terrorist groups. The peace is regularly being disturbed by some minor attacks here and there, now and then.

All around the city, one can see a heavy force of armed gunmen, some “chowkis”, here and there, keeping a tight vigil all over. The security arrangements at temples and other religious places are even more beefed up. There was a comprehensive sequence of check-ups, until you are at last permitted to go inside.

We were busy for two days, during which we also got an opportunity to visit the Jammu & Kashmir secretariat. The security was unshakable. I had one bag with which I was not allowed to enter. We kept the bag at a nearby temple and entered the Secretariat. The next day we were very busy doing something official. At night, we had our dinner and moved out of the hotel for a walk. No one was there; it was around 11:30 in the night, streets were deserted, with only a few security men doing their job.

It seemed that it would not be possible for us to visit the city as we had some jobs left. But, as I had a strong desire, the almighty made it possible and on the third day in Jammu, we started our journey from Raghunath Mandir.

Raghunath Mandir is actually a set of temples dedicated to Lord Rama. The security again was firm, and after the check, we entered the temple complex. I thought that the temples might be old, some 300 – 400 years… old. But, “No” they were relatively new when compared to other famous temples in South India. The temples are made in typical “Hindu” way of temple making, with a dominating central spire. We had a look at the presiding deity and made prayers. There were some pandas but not as disturbing as I found at Pushkar. We went around the temple for a quick “parikrama” and headed for the hotel.

But Raghunath Mandir certainly failed to match my expectations. Not from the devotional or spiritual point of view but from the archaeological and historical point of view. I had seen some old temples at Orchha and Amarkantak. They had a medieval architecture and the serenity around the temple was incomparable. But the Mandir complex at Raghunath Mandir is much newer and also, crowded with pandas and security men.

We came back to the hotel, packed our luggage, and checked out. We left our luggage at the reception and decided to move around the city of Jammu. Our next target was “Bahu Fort” that overlooks the city of Jammu. As I have a special fascination for forts, I was very excited.

On our way, we had a look at the Bahu fort; build on a high hill on the banks of river Tawi. From there, it looked great, but some things look differently when viewed closely. We got down at “Bag-e-Bahu” and started walking towards the Bahu fort. From Bag-e-Bahu, one can have a great view of the whole city. The river Tawi that divides the city in two can also be spotted. Today, Tawi has more of sand and less of water with two bridges flying over it.

But, it is the same river, which once had a lot of water and where Jambolochan spotted and killed a dear, during his hunting routines. Later, he decided to make Jammu his capital. After a few minutes of mild trek, we reached the entrance of Bahu fort. My excitement and enthusiasm took a beating; camera’s leather belts and mobile phones cannot be taken inside the fort. The reason being, I was more interested in the fort and not the temple inside it. The Mandir inside the fort – CHANDI MATA KA MANDIR – is dedicated to the goddess “KALI.” Though I was an old temple, today it has transformed into a more commercial complex with a large number of shops selling prasad and other allied things. I took some prasad and kept my camera with the shopkeeper.

The fort has nothing significant to mention. Rather it would be improper to call it a fort; it is rather a castle. The fort has only one line of fortification and within it there is nothing except a temple.

The walls are in bad shape; the bastions no more look like bastions. Also, what was significant was the design and architecture of the fort. The bastions look different, it was something I had never seen anywhere in India. Even the smallest fort I had seen at Jhansi was much more bigger than this small castle. I was apprehending whether any palatial structures and army barracks, ever existed inside it. It seemed that may be a few people had quietly passed off their lives here with no military threats.

One more thing that denied me a free access to the corners of the fort was a tight security vigil, all over the place. Had nothing more to do, It was a big disappointment. Moved along the queue of devotees, though unwillingly, and had a darshan. It was a feeling of being cheated terribly. But, if you look at the site selection – it’s great. Had the Mughals made the same fort, they would have made full use of the height advantage that the hill offers. Maybe two to three lines of fortification would have been sufficient to make out a solid Mughal outpost in the North.

We came out of the kali Mandir and started looking for some bus / auto rickshaw. On our way, I heard one of the commercial photographers who hover around the whole of bag-e-Bahu, about the “SINGHASAN” – chair of King Hari Singh. We got a good guide in the photographer and managed to reach Amar Mahal palace, economically (i.e. by bus) and well in time, but only after successfully convincing Patra babu.

Looking at the main gate I made up my mind for one more shock. “SURPRISE” – success at last; at last I got what I was looking for. Enquired at the main gate about the timings and stepped into the luxurious gothic palatial mansion of Maharaja Hari Singh. It was a planned creation – even the gardens and the trees have been laid down, taking into care the whole estate view.

Why Gothic? The same enquiry came from my mind. But, the selection of gothic architectural style may be attributed to the growing British influence and the weakening hold of the Maharajas, in the later half of nineteenth century. By now the Mighty Maharajas, only in name and titles, had developed the European tastes; while Bhupinder Singh of Patiala was trying out necklaces from Cartier, Tukoji Rao Holkar of Indore was painting his palaces with modern European frescos and these may have worked in favour of Gothic Architecture.

The castle is made with bricks and no plaster; much in it’s earlier glory. What really impressed me was the accurate positioning of the palace at the hillside, overlooking the River Tawi. The palace backyard offers a breath taking view of the entire area. The palace has a stark resemblance to any Scottish castle. The drainage pipes can be seen openly, while the kitchen chimney point upwards. European materials have been used to the extent possible, right from the flooring tiles to the cast iron grills all around the palace. The importance British foundry had in those days can be judged from the fact that even the smallest block had been shipped from London. This was the same story everywhere; the Holkars, the Scindias, the wodeyars…and many more like them were importing the same stuff.

While the Indian maharajas, were busy in making Forts, small and big, on hills and in oceans, the castles came up in the European Fiefdoms. I had my first encounter with a castle during my school days in Gwalior. Near our playground there was Indian Air Force Officer’s Mess that actually was a Scindia Hunting Lodge. That was the first castle I had ever seen. I always had a desire to see it from inside, but it never happened. It was great building with two small cannons at the entrance.

Scindias did resist the British expansionist attempts initially but later they surrendered because of lack of unity among the other Maratha kings and signed the subsidiary alliance with the British by the start of nineteenth Century. The British garrison was stationed at the medieval fortress of Gwalior and Morar. In the later years after the sepoy mutiny the bond was strengthened even more with the denial of any help to Rani of Jhansi. With this renewed and reinforced relationship, Scindias made one more castle for George V in Shivpuri, when the latter came to India.

We moved around the whole palace and took some photographs. All of sudden, some CRPF jawans with every possible gun and safety suits and radio sets, drew out attention. First thought was may be some means of closed group communication for security purposes. But, very soon the reason of the tight security inside the palace surfaced. It was the gold chair that once was used by maharaja Hari Singh. Made of pure gold, it weighs 100 kilograms.
But, one mystery still remained unsolved – Why Radio sets? Oh! No Cricket again. The craze was genuine and justified. It was the last of the Five ODI’s between India and Pakistan and the Decider of the series. So, nobody wants to miss the action even for a single ball. Having a T V set was a luxury and not possible for Jawans while on duty, at the same time Radio fits the pocket quite nice – that’s the logic behind selecting a Radio set.

Its really interesting how the times have changed; the rulers tried every possible trick to suck the blood out of their subjects, and made huge wealth – Palaces, Castles, Gold thrones and many more things like that. But, today the people don’t have any time for them. It was total whitewash, No more Hukum, huzoor, no undue respect.

Rather a group of eleven individuals have taken the centre stage of all attention. The spirit of cricket has taken over all; every stroke Balaji played drew huge cheers, from the stadium, and also from the small gallis, Chai Thelas in Jammu. That’s what they call “CRICKET FEVER.”

Came back to hotel and ordered Kemah Dosa at the café Seaside. Enjoyed the Dosa as well as the live telecast of the Decider. Stayed back for some time and then left for Raghunath Bazaar for some souvenir shopping. Hot Pakoras and hotter “CRICKET” on TV dominated the post shopping session.

Left for Jammu railway station. People can be seen with their radio sets all around, craving for the latest score. The enthusiasm for cricket what we observed at Jammu was really something that no one would believe until and unless he sees it by his own eyes. Had chicken Masala and roti; Boarded the train and the same fever caught us again.

People were trying to get the match scores, but the train speed was causing some loss of signal. But, again it’s the spirit that works.An army jawan kept on tuning his radio till we got the final result. India has defeated Pakistan in and among their own home crowd. That was great news for any cricket crazy fan to finish off his day, after six hours of dedicated worshipping. Its five pages already but there is no mention of the reunion part of the heading. Actually I was born at Jammu and when I was one month & 12 days old, my parents took me to my maternal uncles home. So, in that sense, for me it’s like coming back to my birthplace after about a quarter of a century.

Along the Konkan Coast!

2009-11-08T21:31:00.000-08:00

I was about to leave for Mumbai on my maiden flight from Delhi. From there, I had plans to proceed further to Mangalore, this time in train, on the Konkan Railway. The mind was loaded with all possible options of breaking my journey on my return at Kudal and move to Sindhudurg and Vijaydurg. These marine forts that dot the Konkan coastline are among the many forts the Marathas made to strengthen the grip over the sea. I had collected a lot of information about the ways in which I can approach the Sindhudurg – the mighty fort that Shivaji designed and supervised himself, during the daunting construction. I developed a special interest in marine forts when I visited Murud Zanzira near Alibaug.

Well! A marine fort has some special design features that traditional land or hill forts lack. Compared to its land counterparts, they are smaller in size. This is quite obvious as these forts are usually placed on islands amidst the sea, or at narrow cliffs over looking the sea. This practice drastically reduces the cost of putting more than one line of fortification. Most of the marine forts have a single line of fortification. But, the fewer number of fortifications is compensated with a much tougher construction. At Murud hard black stone blocks have used to take on the moisture laden heavy winds 24 hours a day, and 365 days a year. Still the guzzling sea waves had eroded the bottom part, and lay to waste a large number of rusted iron cannons. The strength can also be enhanced with more number of bastions as done at Murud. Anyway let’s keep apart this aspect for now.

We reached Mumbai Airport and headed for Hotel Host Inn in Andheri. But, our expectations were on the higher side from such a hotel in a metropolis like Mumbai and disappointment was unavoidable. The next morning, we left for Lokmanya Tilak Terminus by taxi to catch Jan Shatabdi Express to Madgaon. The train took the fast newly laid tracks of Konkan Railways.

Konkan Railways is a patch of railway track that connects Roha and Mangalore, with 1853 bridges and 88 Tunnels, and covering some of the most beautiful virgin interiors of Maharashtra, Goa, and Karnataka. Our train passed through Panvel, Chiplun, Ratnagiri, Sawantwadi, Thivim, and many more small stations before reaching Madgaon. I got down at Ratnagiri and started thinking, whether it would be possible to have a look at Jaigad Fort on my return. Just as we were about to touch Madgaon, I witnessed some of the most exotic backwaters of the Western Ghats. Our trains passed through many bridges where there was sea on one side and backwaters on the other. The Portuguese influence can be seen everywhere; right from churches to the silent graveyards with the mighty “CROSS” everywhere. Many Ships that have not been painted for years together, creating a rusty look were idly anchored to the base. The sailors and fishermen looked contend with whatever they have been blessed with. They are quite happy with their ships, fishing nets, Feni, and sea.

We got down at Madgaon and boarded “Konkan Kanya - Passenger” for Madgaon. There was nothing worth mentioning except a brief chat with a goan lady, going to Kerala. She lives in Goa where her husband is into lending bikes to tourists. She introduced me to a very strange sociological aspect of Goa. She has two growing sons, but she is not very sure what future has in store for them.

Goa is a very popular destination for local as well as international tourists, and most of the population here earns its bread from this overgrowing industry only. But, with the exponential population growth and steady inflow of outsiders from neighboring states, the burden on Tourism Industry has actually surpassed the capacity it can cater to. I also enquired about the performance of Mr. Manohar Parrikar. Apart from these talks, I spend some time at the door, standing and gazing at the terrains outside.

At last we reached Kanakanadi, immediately took an auto rickshaw and headed for Hotel * Taj * Manjarun – another first in my life. Suresh garu lost his cell phone in the auto rickshaw and guess what – that fellow came back to the hotel to return it back after 25 minutes. No way! Never can we expect the same honesty anywhere in North India.

The days at Mangalore were very monotonous and lacked any charm. My usual day started with a Rs. 50/- cup of tea at Manjarun, Tiffin at the food stall opposite Taj Manjarun with Nagulu, Suresh, Loka, and Murthy garu, visit to some sub-station, lazily noting down the equipment details just to show that I am involved, south Indian lunch at any local restaurant, come back as the sun sets, and enjoy Prawn Biryani and pomfret Fry at SPICE.

But, this trip gave me an opportunity to see some of the most remote and scarcely populated regions of South India. Udupi, Puttur, Bantawal, Hebri, Byndoor, Baikampadi, Kulashekara, Kavoor, Kunjabettu, Mookambika Temple, and the more known Manipal are just some of the places I went to. Other names were ridiculously difficult to remember, so I decided not to put unnecessary strain on my limited stock of Hippocampus.

My five stay at Mangalore also left some non-straining memories in my mind. I found the Mangalorean people Honest at core and law abiding by nature. They go by the rules; the roads, streets, markets, and bridges are striking clean and well maintained, with no “Hakeem Usmani” and “Mithunda movie” posters. One more thing is inseparable from the port city of Mangalore and that is intense pinching smell of fish everywhere. But, that was not a cause of concern for a fish loving Bengali like me.

Every time you pass over a bridge in and around Mangalore, you can spot the National Emblem at both ends. Duly painted in silver, and upright. This reminds you of how much importance these national symbols have in imbibing nationalism among this wide and diverse country. What about writing your name with welded joints right on the top of the main gate, rather than putting up a formal nameplate? Not quite interesting - but the Mangaloreans prefer this style.

This time I decided to name some special persons I met during my stay at Mangalore. Numero Uno – Khalid, Profession – Taxi Driver, Expertise – knows every turn and roundel of the city, apart from driving, Other Credentials – Never ending enthusiasm for life. Next person is from a small village named Hebri; a small restaurant owner, can spell out the whole menu in a fraction of a minute, keeps an English daily – “The Hindu” just in case if any outside city aliens happen to come his way, and most importantly super speed service with smiling face.

Last but not the least, a fresh engineering graduate at Puttur sub-divisional office, Madhu Ram, is full of energy, can make people like Loka to stare her for a minute, and very helpful.

I was on my way back to Mumbai, from where I had a connecting train to Delhi. Looked for a reserved seat in all trains that connect Mangalore and Mumbai, but destiny had something more challenging in store. Also the idea of breaking at Kudal and moving to Sindhudurg was also in the back of my mind. But, neither time nor the packed trains compelled me to re-plan the whole thing.

Boarded a summer special train from Mangalore in General Bogie. The journey, well the less I describe the better it is. Traveling in general bogie in hot humid conditions for about 18 hours is something that most of us would love to hate. But I enjoyed it a different way. I kept humming a classical song from a gulzar movie, and controlled the food and fluid intake cautiously as the very thought of going to an Indian General Class bogie toilet can gave me a shiver.

On 3rd June I survived on a packet of “Good day” Biscuit and a horrible vegetable biryani. The humming was continuous, with different variations and pitch. I had just discovered the power of Indian Classical Music, the magic of ragas. Why a specific raga is practiced in a specific period of the day became evident. Feeling curious about the song that kept me going for 18 long hours, in a general bogie, on a terribly hot and humid day; that was “mitwa bole jhute bain……” from Parichay, composed by the legendary Pancham da.

I reached Dadar in the early hours, took a ticket to Mumbai Central, from where I had my connecting train at 17:40 hrs. I was in Mumbai Central Railway station by 05:30 hrs. Now, came the big question, how to kill these 12 hours at Mumbai Central Station, with my dislike for Railway Stations very much intact.

Searched for the station waiting room and found the same on the first floor. Took a brief nap of around one and a half hour on a bench. But, very soon it became impossible for me to stay there anymore with more crowds coming in as the time passed by. Left the waiting room, had my breakfast – Omelet and bread, and decided to move to Vasai.

Bassein or Vasai as it is known today is a few minutes drive from Virar. Took a local train (Fast) from Mumbai Central to Virar, and from there without any adventure took an Auto rickshaw for Vasai. Vasai fort was build by Bahadur Shah of Gujarat to protect his empire from any possible foreign naval attack and other military threats from the south. This fort stood out as watchtower guarding the Arabian Sea, for centuries, and held a strategic position along the coastline.

Portuguese knew this and captured this important fort in 1534. The Bassein region ruled by Portuguese is not just Bassein but included areas far away as Bombay, Thane, Kalyan, and Chaul. In the late second half of 16th century they remodeled the fort with 10 bastions encompassing all-important civil and military settlements of Bassein. The Marathas led by Chimaji Appa finally took the control of Bassien in 1739. The Portuguese lost 8 cities, 4 chief ports, 20 fortress, 2 fortified hills, and 340 villages. In the later years Bassein changed hands between the Marathas and the British. But, Bassein has lost its importance and stature. In the ensuing years, Bassein was in sheer neglect after a constructive, peaceful, Portuguese rule; English Bombay became the hub of all marine trading and commercial activities.

What remains today at Bassein are a few ruined monuments from the past, mostly Portuguese, local fisherman family encroachments with their daaru ki bhattis, a few love birds looking for a hideout, and an abject silence. “Saab ek aur killa hai pass me,” informed Anand ji, my auto rickshaw Wallah. Immediately I enquired, how far from this place? Arnala was about a half hour drive from Vasai. Indulged in some bargaining which can I never do successfully and headed for Arnala.

Ilha das vocas, this is how Arnala was known in the Portuguese days. Arnala like Vasai was a strategic watchtower for the invaders making their way towards the Indian coast. The fort that stands today is surrounded by water on all sides. When I reached Arnala port, it was a high tide time. The sea was violent and no sailor dared to take out his boat. So, my possibilities of reaching Arnala Fort took a real jolt. Moved around the coastline and took some photographs.

What drew the attention was a lone bastion lying in the middle of the sea, quite far off from the main fort. The fortifications, it seemed were washed off by the erosive forces of nature with time. After a few final lookouts, I decided to wrap up and moved towards Virar. Reached Virar, and took a ticket for Mumbai Central. Waited at the railway station as my train had a scheduled departure at 17:40 hrs. I was getting more and more impatient with every passing second. The humid coastal winds were making the life more difficult for a person like me who grew up in arid place like Gwalior.

And came the final blow! The Rajdhani Express for New Delhi is delayed by 2 hours, came the announcement. No options; consoled my heart with something that Niraj often told me during my stay at Farakka, “Manusya naahi hot balwaan, Samay hot balwaan.”

Waited for my time and train to come with some regular doses of desperately needed nicotine. Finally, the lazy engine, dragging the bogies made its way to the platform. Searched for my seat, and it took a few hours for all my sweat to dry out. The air-conditioned coach was like heaven; soon came the dinner. Enjoyed it to the last bite and had a sound and refreshing sleep. Next day by noon, I reached Delhi, with all my memories.

The mind-blowing Konkan Experience, the boring days at a great city Mangalore – the only spicy thing being the food, the nightmarish 18-hour journey in General Class bogie, the over crowded waiting room at Mumbai Central, the pleasure of discovering a new fort – that to a Portuguese fort, something I had never done before, and the disappointment of missing out the opportunity of exploring the treasures of Sindhudurg, Vijaydurg, Jaigad and Arnala Fort, remained some of the highlights of this tour.

First inroads into the Mewar!

2009-11-08T20:56:00.000-08:00

10th Jan: left for Udaipur by DEE ADI EXP., never had an idea that such a train exist and that there is any station named SARAI ROHILLA in Delhi. Anyway, got the tickets in the morning and in the evening I was about to leave for sarai rohilla. Dad asked me whether I could find it by myself, I said “YES.” But he said, no I will also be coming with you, as I have not seen that area. Dad has a very good database about the bus routes in Delhi. But “SARAI ROHILLA” was not found in his database.

Both of us left for Sarai_R.Asked a few autowallahs but no one was interested in Sarai_R. Atlast got one and left for Sarai_R. Reached there in proper time, Ashok called up on my mobile. As he was from Udaipur, he provided with all information which I may need in Udaipur like whether there is any ICICI ATM in U’pur?………What I should bring back from there as a souvenir?

Reached Sarai-R, asked from the fellow at INQUIRY about the departure of Dee Adi Exp. I was told that the train would leave from Platform No.3. We moved towards the platform. Checked my name in the Reservation chart and made a move into the coach.

Dad went out to get some food for my dinner, as mom had gone to kolkata we had to manage our food by ourselves. He managed to find some-“MATAR PANEER+TANDOORI ROTI” and a bottle of bada BISLERI (with 20% extra which means one can get a bottle full of 1200ml of water at Rs.10/-). A few co-passengers told me that there would not be any major stations untill AJMER. So, I need to load food+water as much as I need.

Started chatting with co-passengers as the train and dad left. A lady from some of the Northeastern states was also in our cabin. She was feeling very uncomfortable, that is what I could make out from her gestures. Had my dinner and went for a smoke-offered by Mr. Patodia.

Slept for about eight hrs.

11th Jan.: A very boring day nothing to do.justed chatted with Mr. Basu from NIS. We had discussion on a wide range of issues…. political, sports, bengal as obvious when I came to know that he is also a “NRB”-what’s that? NON-RESIDENTIAL BENGALI.

In the evening we got down at U’pur. Straightway left for HOTEL-INDIA INTERNATIONAL, that was about to be my living place for next week. Reached the hotel, got my keys as I have had booked the room earlier and to the ROOM #122. Had my dinner through room service- “subz udaipuri-a mewari preparation” + tandoori roti. Came out to ring Dad and to kolkata.

12th Jan.: Training started. Arrangements were good, we were given identity tags that we were supposed to put around our necks, a bag as usual, pen, pencil, eraser…. etc. A total of 23 participants were there from various organizations including NTPC, POWERGRID, WBSEB, PSEB, UPERC, NDPL, etc.

First class was by Mr. kaushik Ghosh and met the expectations of all the participants. I was not feeling all right because of the journey and over exposure to a device, invented by John Logie Baird and more popularly known as T.V..But somehow I just carried over. I tried to concentrate on class in the afternoon session, but I found it very difficult. I was having a travel book with me – ‘52 WEEKENDS FROM DELHI’- and last night I had already had a look at the places where I can move around in Udaipur. In the evening went out with “Gaurav”-a new friend from NOIDA POWER. We moved around sukhadia circle although we did not know by what name it is known, it is only later I found out that it was sukhadia Circle.

13th Jan.: Got up early in the morning, early by my standards not comparable to someone who lives in Varanasi. Made up my mind to leave for City palace before the class. Had a bath and left for city palace.

It was really beautiful, a commanding monument on the bank of lake PICHHOLA and overlooking the simply superb lake palace. Please refer the photos if the literature is unable to give a clear picture. Took the tickets, one for myself and other for GUESS? Don’t take it otherwise I am talking about my camera – CANON prima (auto focus; 32mm lens). Moved inside the palace and closely watched the art facts and all other things – the medieval Indian architecture, the exquisite touch of MEWAR, unmatched miniatures showing the city palace from various angles, … Clicked a few photographs here and there but it was difficult to get myself photographed. Asked a fellow for help, he took the photographs quite well with me in the photo frame and city palace in the backdrop.

It was really a beautiful palace, four stories above the ground level and may a few stories underground as well. I was surprised to find some trees in the third floor courtyard. I asked a gardener “where these roots have gone?”. But he gave me a very dull and negative reply.

I had an immediate feeling that the man is happy with what he is doing.
I also felt that, “what is amazing for me - as I am a tourist is something where he may have been working for years altogether”. Probably the way he feels is somewhat comparable to what I may think of transformers, sub-stations, and such things that I deal with everyday.

Having moved around the major share of the massive palace, I came down to the ground floor. Met a man and both of us decided that it would be better to take an “auto rickshaw”. Moved outside and clicked a few more photographs and the both of us took an auto rickshaw and moved towards MOTI MAGRI (near fateh sagar lake). Walked for about half a kilometer to reach the “PRATAP memorial” at the top. A great scenic view can be enjoyed from that point. Enjoyed a gold flake (badiwali) there and came back. Then we decided to come back and unanimously decided to move towards the Sahelion ki badi (SKB). On the way that fellow told me about why he has come to Udaipur. He was telling me something in which I had no interest. But still I managed to show him that I am listening.

We reached “SKB” and entered the complex. Initially thought “WAH” what a beautiful place this is? But very soon my excitement turned into disappointment. There was nothing worth mentioning, a few scientific specimens for children, a pool with no water and a few white elephants of marble of course. It was told that the garden was made for the royal kids who often came here to spend their leisure time.

During the class in second half, Mr. Karandikar of NDPL gave me an offer to go for an outing early morning the next day. He arranged one vehicle and was thinking to go to Nathdwara. Immediately I gave my consent. It was decided that four of us would leave tomorrow at 5:30 in the morning. All the time it was in my mind that I would have to wake up by 4:00 in the morning. Set the Mobile alarm and went to bed.

14th Jan.: Got up as soon as the alarm rang. Actually I had many breaks throughout the whole night at the very thought of getting up early. Anyway got up and I was ready by 5:25 went to gaurav’s room and rang the bell. I got no response, tried and again nom response the he came at the door rubbing his eyes. I just told him “OKAY”! No problem you better go back from where you came. Go and sleep, we are leaving.

Started with Mr.Karandikar and Mr. Mahendra gupta, both from NDPL. Straightway we went to “EKLINGJI” our driver told us that this temple was a royal one and in the earlier days the RANAS of Udaipur had to come here before all important engagements including marriages, wars, … etc. We were informed that even today the present RANA visits this temple on important occasions. He comes barefoot from his palace in the city around 20 Kms. from this ancient temple. It is believed that the temples were build around 6-7th century that were later renovated by the RANAS and consequently it became the family temple of theirs.

It was a collection of nearby 100 temples placed in a congested manner around the main central temple. I was having my camera but unfortunately photography was prohibited I gave my camera to the guard and visited the temple with some flowers. Came back and started for NATHDWARA – a very famous temple of lord Krishna more popularly known as SHRINATHJI.

On our way we discussed with the driver if we can go to HALDIGHATI from Nathdwara and reach back Udaipur by 9:15 as our classes were supposed to start from 9:30. He gave us a green signal regarding the same and we immediately decided that the opportunity should be used to the fullest.

Reached Nathdwara; parked the vehicle and moved towards the temple.
I was surprised to find that vegetables and fruits were being sold at the gate of the temple. Later we came to know that these are offered to SHRINATHJI. We went inside the temple and moved around, as we were searching for the place from where we can have a look at the deity. Sooner we found a gate and a big crowd around that gate. When inquired we came to know that the gate will be opened shortly and we can see SHRINATHJI.

As Mr. Karandikar was wearing a suit, the pandas moving around thought that he could be made a “BAKRA.” And yes! Very soon a panda that told that he is not a guide and he is doing it as a part of his job accompanied us. But we got a idea that we will have to give him some “DAKSHINA” for whatever efforts he is making to familiarize us to the every corner of the temple in the early morning hours.

We had a good look at lord “SHRINATHJI.” It was told that the lord has 365 “shringars” for every day of the calendar. Aurangzeb had generously given one big diamond to the lord, which is placed centrally between his lower lips and chin. We offered some five litres of milk to the god not knowingly where it would go and from it came.

Then we moved out and started for HALDIGHATI, the place where Maharana Pratap fought against the Mughals and lost. Maharaja of jaipur changed sides and fought for the Mughals. Mughals wanted to spread their influence and in the process made many people angry. Maharana of Mewar had a very firm belief that the Mewar is an independent region and it should not come under the Mughal Empire. Because of this Maharana Pratap, who considered the Mughals as outsiders opposed the Mughal moves to annex the Mewar Region to the “MIGHTY MUGHAL EMPIRE.”

On our way to haldighati we saw the - CHETAK SAMADHI. Chetak was the name of Pratap’s faithful horse that saved him, when he was near to defeat. Chetak lost his life but saved his master. Pratap lost the battle and Chetak as well. He then committed himself to tough life of jungles and formed his army with the regional tribes. With his army he fought again and to some extent captured some of the regions that he earlier lost to the Mughals.

Went to the Pratap memorial and saw a small film on the life of Pratap. But putting it together it was a disappointment. Started for Udaipur and were back in the hotel by 9:20. Went to the room; got refreshed and joined the class. I was feeling sleepy but somehow I managed to be active.

15th Jan.: A very ordinary day with nothing special but at the end of the day there was a very good news. Got up, had b’fast and went to the conference hall for classes. Had lunch and then again classes. After classes went outside and wandered around HATHIPOLE. Came back had dinner at restaurant with Gaurav. I was watching television when my cell phone rang and because of the tune I knew that it’s Sanjeev da. He informed me “maloy tui mama hoye gechis” I was really happy and very excited. What more one can ask for?

16th Jan.: went to class but one thing occupied my mind throughout the class. Moved out to the nearest STD phone booth and called up “sanjeev da” on his mobile. He was busy receiving phone call from all other well wishers and relatives. At last “I got him.” Inquired about my Bhagney, how does he look like? When he will be taken to home? …and more questions. Came back attended the class, had lunch, again class.

At the end of the day we were really exhausted, asked gaurav whether we would love to go to hotel LAKEND where secure meters had arranged a party for us all. At last we decided that we would not go to the party, but then Mr. Karandikar and Mr. Mahendra Gupta tried to convince us and informed us that it will be a “COCKTAIL PARTY.” Both of us decided to go to the party. Mr. Dubey of YADAV Measurement was heading the group.

We went to Hotel LAKEND after picking other participants from their hotels. Reached the hotel and started our evening with some whisky (as much I remember that was Antiquity). Myself, gaurav, and vamsi Mohan enjoyed our drinks and then moved for the dinner. During the dinner we had a discussion on the coming assembly elections. Mr. Rathin das from WBSEB shared an interesting joke about how mao-tse-tung, Stalin, and jyoti basu (more popularly known as jyoti “babu” in Bengal) spread the communism. Had a great party, came back to the hotel by bus, and straightway went to bed.

17th Jan.: Got up with slight hangover. Actually had drinks after a break of many days that may the reason for enhanced action. I remember when I was in korba that time 2-3 pegs never used to trouble me. I remember 5-6 pegs used to the normal course at that time. Even at farakka, I used to drink but gradually, may be for the sake of my benefit I had stopped taking regularly. Now I am going for drinks only at select occasions.

All the participants demanded an early leave from the hotel as some had to leave on the same day and others just wanted to move around the Udaipur city. Mr. Vyas of YMPL agreed and we were free by 1:50 including the lunch.
We decided to go to the Monsoon palace at SAJJANGARH.

We started with a “SUMO” and Mr. Choubey as our navigator. The drive to the palace was really a refreshing one. Sajjangarh has the distinction of being the highest point in Udaipur. On our way we met some near 180 degrees turn and there was no fence along the whole road. We were thinking that any mistake by the driver would take us to the heaven beyond any doubts. After some 20 minutes we reached the top where the palace is situated. Moved around the whole palace and kept clicking. Gaurav helped me in taking a few photographs of mine.

Started our return journey and on our way back, stopped at a few points. Dropped all others at their hotels and I headed for LAKE PICHHOLA, along with gaurav. We took tickets and moved to the boat for a ride in the beautiful lake, right at the doorsteps of the city palace. Took a few photographs. As we were the last persons to board the boat, we failed to get a proper seat. So we positioned us at the rear of the boat along with the navigator. But very soon all the co-passengers were jealous of our position when it came to taking photographs. We had the freedom of moving and repositioning ourselves, as we didn’t have a fixed seat. Others who can’t leave their seat were putting their best efforts to capture the beautiful and scenic lake pichhola with their photographic equipment.

A foreign tourist girl drew our attention. HOW?…no! You are wrong. Actually she was singing a Hindi song …..Tere naam..la.la..la..laaa. Moved around the lake, came back and headed towards HATHIPOLE.

Actually I wanted to buy some miniature paintings from Hathipole. I selected some five paintings and one marble painting and left for the hotel. Left the hotel for station. Had my dinner at the station- aaloo ka paratha with some sauce. Boarded LAKE CITY EXPRESS and tried to sleep. But as I had not put on any sweater, I couldn’t sleep the whole night.

18th Jan.: Reached AJMER by 4:15 in the morning. Went outside the railway station and took an auto rickshaw. Asked him to take me to any nearby hotel where I can take a room for about 300/- Rs. Failed to find one such and came back to station by the same auto rickshaw. Moved towards the First class waiting room, but not to my surprise the room was already occupied by some passengers who have never ever traveled by first class. But when I was about to enter one fellow asked me “first class hai na”. Brushed and had a cup of tea and left for PUSHKAR by bus.

I found myself at pushkar by 6:00 as the bus took hardly 20 minutes (ticket Rs.8/-). It was still dark and it was not advised to move around in an unknown place – this is what I thought. Two foreign girls who came in the same bus wanted to go to some hotel, but the other brokers were making their life difficult. They were making some dirty comments in Hindi, which the girls can hardly understand. But the only thing they can make out was that they need to be cautious. I told them not to say anything and just be patient. I think she got my message. At last gave them a few words of wisdom and advised them to wait for some time till the sun comes out.

Walked along the road leading to pushkar. It was hardly a kilometer far from the bus stand. Moved around the ghats, got involved in a confrontation with a “panda” and kept walking and exploring pushkar. Had 2-3 cups of tea.

While walking through the streets I was made target by one of the pandas wandering here and there. He offered to show me the important places and said he would not ask for any money but whatever I will give happily he will accept. He took me to a ghat and did something that failed to understand and then asked me to pay Rs.101/-. I made my way by paying a sum of Rs. 51/-. Then I went for a “PARIKRAMA” round the holy pushkar lake. I was also clicking at regular intervals. At 8:45 I started for Ajmer from Pushkar with some vermilion on my forehead and “prasada” in my bag that was given by YMPL, Udaipur.

Took a bus for Ajmer, a boy sitting next to me informed me about the latest score of the INDIA-AUSTRALIA cricket match. Reached Ajmer bus stand totally clueless where to go. Asked a few panwallah’s. I had in my mind that Amer fort is in Ajmer, but then one fellow told me, “no” that’s in Jaipur. I thought that it would be better to have something and then move ahead.

Searched for a decent restaurant and got one. Ordered one “choley bhature” I don’t know why although I had become quite health conscious because in the last year I had gained a lot of abdominal fats (guess why… alcoholic beverages).

While waiting for the order to be served I took out my Travel guide-52 weekends from Delhi. Glanced through the pages about Ajmer, the places to visit.

Left for Ajmer Sharif on a rickshaw, reached there. It was full of human congestion, shops all along the road leading to the “dargah” and their sales promoters on the streets. I bought a white handkerchief so that I can put it over my head. Entered the dargah, saw two large sized bowls at the entrance-one gifted by Akbar and the other by Jahangir used for making “kheer” for the devotees. Purchased one “chadar” and moved ahead.

The dargah was marvelously decorated with some few kilos of gold and silver. The chandeliers were massive, the walls with holy inscriptions from KORAN written beautifully. Really a gem-the calligraphy, design symmetry, penetrating shine. Moved around the dargah and then came out. When I came out the dargah I saw some “qawwals” at the rear gate. They were singing in the glory of khwaja moinnuddin chisti. Took some photographs and came out. Next target was “dhai din ka jhonpra,” hardly a kilometer walk from Ajmer sharif.

My book informed me that it was made in two and a half days. What a beautiful monument! Entered through the massive main entrance. Small mountains surrounded it, although the monument gives a clear impression that it was incomplete but the precision and craftsmanship can be judged from the carvings on the pillars and ceilings. “NO WAY” this is the thought which anyone would have, when told that it two and ½ days to finish off this massive structure. Please have a look at the pictures, I mean it’s very difficult to imagine otherwise.

Took a rickshaw and moved towards the spot from where I can get some vehicles for TARAGARH FORT. I have a special curiosity about forts- the lines and levels of fortification, the architecture, and the arrangements for defense.

But it was a great disappointment. The fort once held by heroic PRITHVIRAJ CHAUHAN was in shambles. Nothing actually remained, hardly a few walls of fortifications can be seen. One or two bastions scattered here and there-hardly one can get a feel of how it looked like in her heydays. Some ASI (or may be Tourism department) efforts can be seen on the drive to the top. At some places walls have been repaired, but the cement mortar speaks out its relative young age because of its color.

Taragarh was “A TOTAL DISAPPOINTMENT”

One dargah is also there at the hilltop, but not that impressive as Ajmer Sharif. Moved around and came back. Waited for some time and then started for station. Reached the station, made my way to the nearest coffee shop and had two coffees and a packet of chips. The platform was crowded because a few minutes back Rajdhani Express had come with students of the very famous MAYO College.

Few minutes later my train was placed on the platform no. 1. Boarded the train; I was feeling very tired. From 4:15 in the morning without a good sleep last night, it had moved around for about 12 hours. It was mental as well as physical strain that I was undergoing. Sat silently and ate up whatever was offered by the waiter in the train. Reached New Delhi station and headed towards home-at last.

“IN TO THE HOLKAR’S STRONGHOLD”

2009-11-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

Those images are still fresh in my mind; as I sat down to write this memoir.
But words alone cannot make this memoir live, so I decided to add all the photographs that I took at Maheshwar.

I was very firm mentally, to go to Maheshwar, the moment I left for Indore. On my way I went through some of the printouts that I had taken. Lately I had developed a habit of surfing the Internet and collecting information related to the place where I will be going. When I was looking for the possible excursions from Indore, Maheshwar came to my notice. I was very much impressed by those pictures that I saw in the MP tourism’s official website. The grand Ghat struck me the most and immediately my we had an agreement – my inner self and me. I will be going to Maheshwar.

Early morning I checked out of hotel Sayaji Grand and moved our company guesthouse, as my official work was over. I reached the guesthouse, had my breakfast with Rajnish, Dipak, and Mukesh kanchan, while Ramu served us in the best way he can. Ramu was the caretaker cum cook cum …… everything. He had never looked in his master’s eyes, and has no such ideas of doing so in future.

I was told that he came from Nepal, but he is very honest, as all Nepali’s are. That’s the reason that though we don’t have Gorkha’s in India, but we do have the Gorkha Regiment in the Indian Army.

Rajnish and Dipak wanted me to go with them, to the office. I accompanied them to the office and somehow managed to convince them to leave me outside the office. I asked the driver Harish to drop me at Sarvate Bus Stand, from where I can find a bus to Maheshwar.

How I moved
Sarvate Bus Stand to Dhamnod in State Transport Bus (77 kms.)
Dhamnod to Maheshwar in Local Bus (13 kms.)

At the bus stand, some local travel agents told me that there is no direct bus to Maheshwar. So, I will have to go to Dhamnod and from there take another bus for Maheshwar. Took a State Transport Bus to Dhamnod. The journey was horrible; throughout Madhya Pradesh the condition of roads is very bad, but Indore – Dhamnod Route had some really massive potholes and dangerous turns. At some places it was hard to believe that the bus is actually going through a National Highway. After about three hours of impatient drive, I was at Dhamnod. Moved towards a Chai Thela and had a hot cup of tea and some nicotine. As I was about to pay, Chai Wallah said, “Ho Gaya.”

Actually during the course of this three-hour travel I made friendship with an uncle, who was also going to Maheshwar. He felt suffocated and asked for the window seat that I was occupying. I obliged immediately, earlier also when our bus passed Mhow, he took Bhajiya from an outside vendor, and again I did whatever I could have.

In the whole region, I mean Malwa region people have a special love for Bhajiyas, the most popular being the Sev. Sev comes in a whole range of size and taste. Sev sprinkled over Poha (made with rice flakes) and jalebi is everyone’s first choice for breakfast in the whole Malwa Region. The “Poha Penetration” can be gauged from the fact that even in the best hotels, in and around Indore, Poha forms a regular part of the Breakfast Menu.
From Dhamnod, I took another bus for Maheshwar. I reached Maheshwar by 14:15 afternoon. I had two options – one to explore the place alone or take an Auto Rickshaw. I decided to take an Auto Rickshaw as I was already running behind the schedule.

The sight of just two Auto rickshaws and deserted streets made me nervous and in haste, I took Ashfaq for Rs. 100. He named a few places and committed to show all of them. On my way towards the fort, I took a bottle of Chilled water and moved on. Just as reached near the sloppy ramp leading to the fort, the engine had some trouble. Many thoughts came, but after some hit and trials Ashfaq made it move.

As we passed through the main gate, I had a sigh of relief that at last I have made it to one more fort. The fort was a small one with fewer but sound bastions. It occupies the banks of river Narmada, but does have some elevation that adds to its defense. We moved around the palace, and took some photographs. Ashfaq took me to a place from where one can have a simply astounding view of river Narmada, and the adjoining areas. There were many temples along the Narmada Ghat, and one right in the middle of it. Guessing my excited and impatient mood, Ashfaq assured me that we would be going to the same temple later. So, let’s first move into the Palace Complex.

Ashfaq took me inside the Palace, which once was the royal seat of Rani Ahilya Devi.
The palace was made of wood, immediately I inquired why wood? He had no answers to offer. The whole palace was supported with wooded blocks. I was informed that the palace was destroyed some time back in a fire accident and what remains today is a mere sample of what Holkars actually had.

“Holkars might have had I genuine fascination for wood,” I thought. The reason being, in Indore also (next Holkar capital after Maheshwar), Rajwada also faced the same fate. Rajwada was the palatial complex made by the Holkars when they moved to Indore from Maheshwar after the death of Ahilya bai. Rajwada caught fire three times in its lifespan and very little of the original creation has survived.

We moved around the whole palace including the personal temple of Ahilya bai. Ahilya Bai was a Maratha queen who had strong Hindu beliefs. It is said that she ordered her son to be smashed by raging elephants just he has behaved indecently with some ladies. The story very popular in the region is often used to glorify the queen. She used to perform the “Narmada Pujan” every morning before starting the other daily activities. She believed in the woman empowerment, and for the same she promoted weaving of Maheshwari Saris by local women. Even today, these saris are unique in a sense that silk and cotton are mixed while weaving. It was Ahilya bai, who actually planned to shift her capital to Indore, but Indore became the Holkar capital only after death.

We moved towards the temple complex and ghats, just nearby the fort. While I coming down the ramp, I had the first glimpse of Ahilyeshwar temple. The temple had a stark dissimilarity with the palace, we had just seen. It was made entirely in sandstone; even the two dweepa’s near the entrance are made of stone.

I was very satisfied; I got some rewards for the tiresome and lonely journey of about 4 hours. The whole temple complex along with the Cenotaph of Ahilya bai’s son and Ahilyeshwar Ghat are simply great. Sandstone has been used to the extent possible and the quality of workmanship very refined.

The temple has a main entrance that leads to a few steps, which ultimately end up to the raised sanctum. There was a walkway that must have been used for making “parikrama” around the temple. I moved around the whole temple, staring at the huge size of the central spire. In the upper parts, some white marble has also been used to produce some contrasting patterns. Then I moved to the side galleries from where the holy Narmada can be seen. These galleries must have been made for the pilgrims who made their way to Maheshwar in those royal days. Every corner of the complex is in perfect shape and given a water wash will be like a new one. Though in some upper parts, there is some blackening of sandstone because of water leakage.

I took the nearby stairs and reached the top. The views were extraordinary – one side you have the calm stretches of Narmada and on the other, mute and morose structures of the Holkars. The gates were huge and still have the same old “Holkar” woodwork. Having spent a good time in the temple complex and having clicked a good number of photographs in B&W, I moved towards the cenotaph.

The cenotaph too was like poetry in sandstone. Intricate carvings can be seen everywhere. But what drew my and my camera’s attention was a plinth having a number of Carved elephants. May this has something to do with the way Ahilya bai’s son was punished. The structure looked very compact and strong. Nearby there were rest rooms cum changing chambers for pilgrims.

I moved towards the nearby grand gate that leads to the Ahilyeshwar Ghat. The gate is followed by a number of steps in five directions, that end up on a common platform. Vigilant Warriors are ready to take care of any eventuality. “Why that Floodlight?”, I asked myself. Just over the main gate, a floodlight has been fixed may be with right intension of lighting the whole area, but it causes a side effect of disturbing the area aesthetics. From there again, I took steps to descend down to the Narmada Waters. I was simply spellbound by the serene views that Ahilyeshwar Ghat offered.

The calm, quite streams of Narmada dotted with some small boats looks great. Ahilyeshwar Ghat also offers some of the exclusive snapshots of a rural Indian Town…. May be village. I found a number of local people having their bath at the ghats. It was very routine and normal for them. May be they were thinking, “what this stupid is doing here?”, when they saw me. What was a great medieval creation for me was just a bathing Ghat, for them. They have no time for the carvings, Bastions, and Vigilant statues.

I took a small engine powered boat, and moved towards the Baneshwar Temple. Though that fellow was catching flies, and staring at the bathing women at the Ghat, he was not ready to move for less than Rs. 50. I agreed and three of us, me, Ashfaq, and that fellow himself, were on our way. Looking at my camera, he rightly guessed that I am more interested in photography and less in the temple. He placed his boat right in front of the gate for me to take some photographs.

The journey to the temple had some supplements – a classic ultra mild, some water, and cool moisture laden breezes. I moved around the whole temple to have a comprehensive view of the area. I was very excited at the very thought of standing in the middle of Narmade. This was the third point along the length of Narmada that I came in contact with. Earlier I had been to Amarkantak, the staring point of Narmada River and Omkareshwar, another holy pilgrimage center along the Narmada.

I stayed at the temple for some time and took the boat back to Ahilyeshwar Ghat. The Ghat was still busy, this time with a few tourists. I wanted to stay at the Ghat for some more time, but time didn’t permit me to do so. Suddenly I heard some sounds from my empty stomach, and that was a final call. I took out some fruits that I had taken from hotel, and there was some drop in the stomach decibel level.

Ashfaq took me to the other places that actually make Maheshwar a great pilgrimage point for the locals in the Malwa Region. Rajarajeshwara and some more temples nearby are the actual crowd pullers. But, I found them quite pale and of not much historical value. The acrylic paints have been put in layers to hide the underlying sandstone works, and the floors have been covered with slabs of white marble. I waited for some time at the temple, as I was very tired. Took out one more apple from my “SENSA” bag and ate the apple to the extent possible.

While resting there, Ashfaq drew my attention towards the Muslim Community at Maheshwar. Where from they came and why they stayed back at a Hindu Kingdom. After recalling some of my Medieval History Knowledge, I came to a conclusion that they might have moved here or converted to Islam during the reign of Mandu Sultans, who controlled the whole of Malwa for a considerable period of time. And during the next few centuries it was under the Mughals. It was only after the Mughal decline Holkars took control of this region. So, it seems that Maheshwar remained more in Islamic influence and less in Hindu influence.

I decided to call it a day and leave for Dhamnod, but wished to buy back some souvenirs from Maheshwar. I walked into REWA society in the palace complex itself that was run by Holkars till this day. Ashfaq had given me some idea about the cost of Maheshwari saris. I felt that the saris are a bit overprized, so ended up buying two postcards from there. I looked at the backside - © RICHARD HOLKAR. The name Richard itself tells the story of what happened to the Holkar descendents. Like many of the Indian princes, they may have made their way to the overseas lands and stayed back there only. Wherever may be the size, the king always wants to rule, and never wants to be ruled by others.

Came outside the palace complex and move towards the main bazaar for some saris. Found one shop with a board “Credit Cards Accepted.” Moved in, and selected some saris but all of a sudden there was a power failure. I had no cash, and the question was whether I would able to take back the souvenirs. Then, the smart salesman connected the computer UPS to the Charge Machine and it worked. I paid the bill and moved away towards the bus stand. Bus was already packed and ready to start for Dhamnod. Reached Dhamnod safely, enjoying the weather and terrains on the way. Surprising I found some banana plantations on both sides of the road, a deserted school, and many other things.

Just as I reached Dhamnod it started raining, took shelter in a Chai shop. It was a never-ending wait there. I looked for the small board in every bus that passed by, as rain poured down unstoppably. After some time it lost the track, I moved outside from the Chai shop. I was getting desperate, as the sky was turning dark slowly and for me – a complete stranger getting a bus has become the topmost priority. I changed my location and moved near to a mobile shop near the main highway.

“Yes” I got it. At last I got what I was looking for. A bus that has a small board in the front with inscription, “…..SE INDORE.” The seats were already occupied and I had to manage by simply standing on my feet for three and half long hours. It had a whole variety of people, including daily laborers, businessmen, locals, and me. I was very excited and the “Swades” song …yuhi chal chala chal rahi… was going through my mind. When I reached Sarvate bus stand, it was raining and I was doubtful of getting any conveyance to our guesthouse. Fortunately, I found an Autowallah, and straightway headed towards the guesthouse.

I was very tired and satisfied, at the same time. Also the thought of exploring Mandu, the next day was very much in my mind. But, destiny had something else in store; Dipak and Rajnish were waiting for me to plan for the cocktail party. I failed to turn down their request, as they had arranged the party for me only. We went outside in search of some alcoholic beverages, and came back with some alcohol and a few VCD’s.

The whole day turned out to be a great one. Exploring the Holkar stronghold, that has very less admirers today, with its compact fort, woody palace, cast sandstone temples, and surprisingly clean ghats, was like a medieval dream come true. What I liked the most about Maheshwar was the tranquility around the place. No tourist crowds, local people busy with their daily works and the holy Narmada

“An unforgettable day – 21 June 2000” Padhawali Batesar Mitawali

2009-11-07T07:28:00.000-08:00

11th Century GADHI (Padhawali) and 7th Century Batesar Tour

My college Exams were over and I was waiting for the penultimate. As I already had a job offer from HCL Infosystems, I was quite relaxed and so was the mind. In the otherwise monotonous routine life, nothing exciting was in sight. I remember, I was watching Door Darshan that many of us watch only when there is some problem with the cable Signal. The evening news otherwise not of much interest to me, showed some photographs of the recently excavated monuments at Padhawali. I was totally surprised that the monuments are so close and still we haven’t heard of them. Immediately decided to explore the temples the next morning. But, I needed some companions and who else other than Suranjan can serve this purpose. Met him and told him about the discovery of ancient temples of seventh and Eleventh century near Malanpur. He agreed and suggested that we should also take Tanmoy with us. Made a phone call to Tanmoy and the deal was fixed that three of us will move for Padhawali on our trusted cycles, the next morning.

05:30 AM> Started from Surya Vihar Colony with Suranjan (half Hour late than the scheduled departure) on Cycles.

Cycling in the morning hours was not a trouble, in fact the refreshing morning wind was blowing, and the atmosphere still had some cool. I had taken “Luchis” with “Googhni” that mom had prepared. Though I had told her not to do anything, it was not easy to convince her. I personally feel that the Bengali parents are much more possessive about their children as compared to others. I don’t know whether I am right or wrong? Suranjan had packed some sandwiches, which proved out very handy for the breakfast.

05:50 AM> Reached Maharajpura. Waited for Tanmoy at the Chambal gate for about 10 minutes.

06:05 AM> Started for Malanpur. On the way came – Baretha’s Hanuman Mandir and many other (Laxmangarh etc.).

At Malanpur, we tried to inquire the locals about the location of the temples. Some of them looked at us, as if we are going to steal something from there. Some even asked, “why you people want to go there?” we failed to get the correct information and instead of moving left from Malanpur, moved towards Gohad. Just as we were passing through the Malanpur Industrial Area, Tanmoy’s cycle punctured. We started telling him, “hey! Man, you cannot maintain even a cycle properly. After the repair, we sat near the Cycle shop and had sandwiches. Then, we again moved on the same path that is towards Gohad. With repeated queries to the local whom we passed on our way, at last we found one fellow who knew very well about the Padhawali temples. He explained the whole route and possible halts on the way.

07:00 AM> Passed the Malanpur Industrial Area. Tanmoy’s cycle got punctured. Got it repaired at Malanpur and had our Breakfast there. Misled by few stupid, we lost our way and headed towards Gohad.

07:25 AM> Managed to get the location of the destination. We headed towards “Rithoura.” It was a never-ending travel with no hopes for reaching the ultimate point.

The journey from Malanpur to Rithoura Kalan through the industrial area was a less interesting and more exhausting one. We passed through many of the manufacturing units at the industrial area, and reached a railway crossing. Nearby was an office of Central warehousing Corporation, as much I can remember. From there, started the area of Village named “Rithoura Kalan.” We had a small break and smoke. In those days, smoking a full cigarette was a luxury and something he were not used to. We shared a cigarette “Wills – Navy Cut” and enjoyed the last string of tobacco it had. We used to say, “ abbe ghumane ki ho rahi hai” whenever any one had taken more than his allotted puffs.

07:45 AM> At Rithoura, the villagers gave us good idea about the Gadhi and with renewed zeal we started for “Padhawali”. On the way, we found an ancient temple. Stopped there for about 10 minutes. I got some snaps evoking picturesque locations and took a few photographs with my Canon.

On our way towards Padhawali village, what we can spot around were a few cattle, villagers, and some tractors. The road was a classic example of the Indian village road, with more potholes and less covered area. Even the patches were so badly made that it was rather better to cycle on the tracks near the road that pedestrian villagers had created. All of sudden, we had a sigh of relief, “oh! At last something has come.” It was a deserted temple just by the road. The temple was an old one with some devout follower painting it white with limestone. Moved around the temple and relaxed a bit. Suranjan drew our attention to a nearby well, full with water. I maintained a safer distance, as I can’t swim. I thought whether we find Padhawali or not, let’s take some pictures so that I can show them back home. Otherwise he would be laughed off surely for our misadventure, led by me. Having taken the pictures, I thought that at least I have something to say even if we failed to trace out Padhawali.

But, no I was wrong! Just after a few minutes, we were at a junction that had a signboard. Moved towards the Gadhi thought the Padhawali village. The villagers, mostly women were having a suspicious look at us. Where from these fellows have come with cycles and bags on their back? Usually whosoever comes to Gadhi would prefer a sumo, a bus, or a jeep, but on cycles, that was definitely a spirited effort. The whole area started appearing to us, numerous temples mostly Hindu, spread over at least a sq. km. What an experience? Through the dust piled village road we reached the Gadhi entrance and the famous ASI enameled blue plate with “Sanrakshit Smarak” written over it, made a surprise appearance.

07:55 AM> Moved towards Padhawali. There were no signs of any historic monuments. But finally we saw, the “Sanrakshit Smarak” signboard, which gave us a true relief. We felt as we have got the result of about 41 kilometers of cycling.

The gate was open, but no one was there. We kept our cycles in shade and entered the temple through the high-rise stairs, guarded originally by lions on both side. But though one has been put in place the other lion was lying nearby. It was quite evident from the marks on the bastions and walls that the whole temple had survived till this day just because it was buried under soil for centuries. Just the way “Sphinx” had kept his vigil for centuries even being made of soft stone. Sphinx was buried in sand for centuries and because of that only the erosion due to wind has failed to take it over.

Inside the Gadhi we met the ASI monument attendant. He was very excited and surprised. The reason for that – at last he has got someone to talk to in the otherwise sleepy and deserted area. I can imagine how he would be earning his bread? A lonely area with a feeble not-so-friendly population and the vast emptiness of the ancient temple ruins with very few people visiting them. Alone with the responsibility of taking care of a precious National heritage. Not even knowing what is happening in the nearest town. Just imagine, doesn’t it sounds like “kaala Paani.”

It was like a good first shower after a long dry spell. He personally took us to all the areas of the fort – explored and Unexplored. “Actually earlier only a big temple existed here which was later dismantled to make the fortified smaller one that we have today,” he explained. Though he was not very sure about the origins, he tried to offer something.

He provided his “khatiya” for us to have lunch. He also arranged some fresh water to drink. In the meantime some other people have come. They had some official vehicles that drove us to conclude, “May be IAS officers.”

08:25 AM> Reached the Gadhi. We introduced ourselves as history students of MLB College. The caretaker was very much impressed and showed us all the “Gadhi,” telling us whatever he knew. Again I brought out my camera and took some photographs. After staying for some time there, we had our lunch. After the lunch, we went into the unexplored areas of the Gadhi.

What was straining my brain was, “why so many temples have been erected in such a remotely located place?” the caretaker has told us that in the initial assessment the ASI had put the number of temples at around 1400. Now I was thinking why a place like this? That has no major water bodies nearby, any fertile land. But, the sheer number of temples, small and big confirms that the area must have been a pilgrimage destination in those days. The statues inside the main mandap have an erotic appeal very much same as those at khajuraho. The main deity is seems was Durga, and Tantra might have been practiced.

Moved around the whole area. The bastions with well, the dynamite grinder, water storage tank, and many other things drew our attention. After the wander we had a small break and smoke. We had no plans to move any further, but our main concern was to cycle back to Gwalior, about 25 kilometers.

10:15 AM> We were about to start for Gwalior when one of the local villager told us that the temples at Batesar are a “must see” heritage. No one was ready as our energy cylinders are about to finish. I convinced both of them to go to the Batesar temples about 1 kilometer away from Gadhi.

Just as we moved out of the Gadhi, and went to a nearby hand pump, I asked a local fellow about the nearby Batesar temples. He provided me the push that I needed, but a more hurdle was still there. I made a successful attempt on convincing Suranjan and Tanmoy, and we started to drag our cycles through the piles of dust, that the miners had left towards the Batesar temples. On our way, we saw some foundations. I thought why don’t the ASI people excavate these areas. The miners nearby had started destroying some on them. But, now I can understand that how difficult it is to get the funds. We have a rich history, culture and a numerous monuments scattered all around the Country, but limited resources, and there are issues of larger significance.

Batesar was brilliant. As we moved towards the temples, nothing significant was visible. But, when we made our way through some trees, the temples made a sudden appearance. Most of them had a Shiva Lingam in them and there were about 200 of them in the area. There was a small pond with some water and stone steps. I suppose the pond was from the same time and devotees for a dip must have used it.

Our next halt was a lonely temple placed on high platform. Though the temple was in very bad shape, but it gave of glimpse of what it had been in its primetime. Intricately carved pillars with images of apsaras were an unparalleled visual treat. Stayed there for some time and enjoyed the overall aerial views that the temple offered. Waited for some more time, enjoyed a cigarette and saved a few for the return journey.

11:10 AM> After viewing the Batesar temples took some rest in a lonely placed temple in nearly shattered condition. At about 11:50 AM we started from Batesar. The very thought of driving (rather cycling) back to Gwalior was giving us fear.

Near Rithoura Kalan we met the same official vehicles that we saw at Gadhi. We were resting on a culvert as they passed by. They gave a strange look at us and moved ahead.

13:50 AM> We reached Malanpur and had a chilled bottle of “Cola” which we later found out was not a genuine one.

Again at Malanpur, the same vehicles again crossed us. We decided to have a bottle of Coca Cola.

After some hours of pedaling with tired legs, we reached Maharajpura. It was the “finish mark” for Tanmoy, but for me and Suranjan we had seven more kilometers to go.

14:55 AM> Dropped Tanmoy at the Chambal Gate at Maharajpura. I, and Suranjan then left for Surya Vihar Colony.

15:20 AM> Reached home. At the end of the travel all we had was – pain in all the body and some unforgettable memories of 11th and 7th Century.

Reached home, mom and didi were about to go to some wedding party in the evening. They asked me to accompany them, I said, “no way.” Had a bath and changed. Then, I thought of putting down in words whatever I had seen. Although the whole body was in pain but, still there was a sense of achievement. How many people go there? And how many can dare to go with cycles? Some childish egoistic thoughts kept on coming and going. The whole areas, the temples, the statues, everything that I had seen were moving around.

Part – II
Batesar – Mitawali Tour; 20 Oct 2000

This was my second visit to the Padhawali Area. Though we had covered the Batesar temples earlier, the hilltop temple at Mitawali was a new uncharted one. This may be termed as a much planned one, with more luxuries. We were about to start on Soumi’s scooter – BAJAJ cub, very old model, with every possible foodstuff to eat, a frozen bottle of water (1.5 litres), and a bottle of Gin (White Mischief). I think I missed the cigarettes. It was less of adventure and more of a picnic.

08:00 AM> Started from Pinto Park in Soumi’s scooter. Left for petrol pump, got some fuel and moved towards Maharajpura. All of us – Soumi (DRIVER), Suranjan, and myself – were on the same scooter. Just as we were passing through Maharajpura, we heard some “knocking” sound in the scooter. Suranjan, sitting in the rear, confirmed about something burning. We stopped at a nearby Auto Repair Shop for rectification.

I offered some idiotic explanation linking the knocking sound with the “Octane Number” of fuel. I said that we must have taken fuel with low Octane Number and that’s why this sound. But, Suranjan’s nose registered the problem differently. He alarmed, “something is burning, we better get it rectified, else it would cause trouble on the way”. That mechanic at Maharajpura tried to fool us, and made a comprehensive list of whatever he felt needs replacement.

08:45 AM> The Mechanic found out a lot of faults in the scooter. The shocker bracket and the oil regulator were malfunctioning. Changed those and moved forward. Now, the scooter was going smooth and we were hoping to reach our destination by 09:00 AM.

We asked him to do the bare minimum to make the scooter run smoothly. He did something and we moved ahead. By this time, our concerns regarding the high melting rate of the frozen bottle had already started to bother us.

09:10 AM> But we were wrong. Just as we reached Malanpur Railway Crossing, the scooter stopped. Soumi made some efforts but it didn’t started. We were about 2 kilometers far from Rithoura kalan, where we could hope to get the scooter repaired. There was a unanimous decision to move towards Rithoura.

From the railway Crossing, we walked while Soumi dragged the scooter in the famous “Gwalior Heat”. We were about 2 kilometers short of Rithoura kalan.

10:25 AM> Reached “Rithoura Kalan.” But there was no mechanic, who could do the needful. Someone told us, that only Rahish Khan could do this. We found him and requested him if he can do it for us. Rahish agreed and after about 1 hour, we left for Padhawali, not on legs but on the scooter.

This Rahish khan was initially reluctant to do it and tried to show how busy he is. But on constant pleadings, he agreed to help us. Though Rahish was a cycle mechanic, he was familiar with some basic aspects of motorbikes. He took his own time, applying the principles of “Hit & Trial” while we waited with no other options. The smoke kept on filling the atmosphere at regular intervals.

By this time, water in the bottle has already undergone a transformation of state. It had melted completely, and getting warmer with time. “What will happen to the plan?”

11:45 AM> Reached Gadhi, but we decided to move to Batesar first. Soumi placed his scooter under a tree and we climbed up to a lonely temple of 7th century. We had our lunch* there. Soumi and Suranjan waited in the temple while I climbed up the mountains to reach at the top of it. From there one can have a breath taking view of the whole area. Came back, Soumi took some photographs, and we left for Batesar temples.

Took our all the accessories, and laid some newspapers to sit on. The water has lost its chill; we decided to go ahead with the same. We turned a bit mischievous with WM. Soumi and Suranjan wanted to enjoy the feeling and stayed in there. Meanwhile I climbed up the nearby mountain.

13:45 AM> We were going all around the ruins of the old temples. There was an “amla” tree and we managed to get some amlas from the tree. Some sadhus were there – resting. I and Soumi moved into a sadhu babas temple. And then we climbed up to the top of a temple. Suji took the photograph. Left for the hand pump at the Gadhi for some water.

I don’t know how we made it but that was quite difficult to climb. We did it with ease while Suranjan decided to remain grounded. The temple itself looks as if it will crumble with the slightest of wind, but when we climbed it we found it sound enough to stay for another 10 years, assuming that it will remain untouched by restoration efforts of ASI.

15:30 AM> Reached the main road and moved towards “Mitawali”. There were two temples at Mitawali but one can have a great bird eye view from the Mitawali Paahar. Came back and started for Maharajpura.

Mitawali was very different from Gadhi and Batesar. It looked more like a “vihara” and less like a temple. It has a striking similarity with the Indian Parliament. I am very sure that Lutyen might have had a look at this monument before designing the Parliament.

It has rather simple architecture. A circular lobby with cells for player, each cell has a Shiva lingam in it. In the center, there’s a big Lingam, enclosed in a stupa. (Please have a look at the photographs)

16:20 AM> As we were coming back and we were just about to reach Malanpur, the petrol finished and again the scooter stopped. Somehow we managed to reach the Malanpur petrol pump, got some petrol, and had a cup of tea.

How we reached Malanpur that’s also an interesting story. We decided that two of us will sit on the scooter and the third will push it from back. But, how to be impartial about the distance one has pushed. Since it was an industrial area, there were streetlights at proper intervals, and that served as a reference. Every one will push the scooter with other two idiots on it for a distance of two poles. Then, one of the two sitting on the scooter will get down and push the other two.

Sound like a law of physics or like a protocol of physical experiments. Because of the well-maintained roads, we enjoyed the whole thing.

17:15 AM> We were on the way towards home. Reached Pinto Park safely. Had an “ADDA” in Suji’s home and then came back. But the trip had lacked the excitement, if there wasn’t Soumi’s scooter.

From Malanpur to Surya Vihar, the scooter behaved in a manner that was expected. Gathered for an evening “adda” at the Suranjan’s house. The trip had everything, though we started with more luxurious options, destiny had chosen something else. But, whatever it had kept for us, we enjoyed to maximum possible extent.

Text in BOLD: Original Text as written in Diary (2000) after the Journey.
Text in Normal: Inputs added while writing this blog.

Begum-e-Bhopal; Serene Sanchi; Salubrious Islamnagar;

2009-11-07T06:49:00.000-08:00

In Bhopal, there’s a saying – whosoever comes to this place will definitely come back again, at least once. And yes! It did proved right for me. I was on my way to Bhopal, this time to help my boss to go through the power point slides of a Presentation on Quality Assurance and Inspection. The last time I visited this shaggy city was when I came here for my Engineering Counselling, conducted by VYAPAM. That day is still very fresh in my mind. I had no idea, absolutely no ideas what engineering is all about, and which branch should I opt? Just because I liked the third chapter in my physics textbook – Current and electricity, and had no problem in solving numerical problems relating to Kirchhoff’s rule, I opted for electrical engineering. I thought maybe this stream has more friendly people like Ohm and Kirchhoff, and less troublesome like le chatelier, Markonikoff, and others.

Bhopal, what I found is a city in dilemma. A dilemma of whether to bask in its past glory, or to wake up to the challenges of this dynamic world, and modify accordingly. Although Porsche multi-storied shopping malls have just come up, but still what dominates the Bhopal skyline are the minarets of Taj-ul Masjid. The same is true about the mindset people have. I visited a crowded shopping place, with narrow streets, made even narrower by encroaching vendors and casual local, who have no real work. Quite a good number of women can be spotted in burqa. A burqa does not necessarily mean that the women have still not come out from the social stigma.

Looking into its history Bhopal was ruled for a considerable period of time by Begums, although very orthodox ones. In the medieval times initially the Paramaras, lately the Mandu Sultans controlled it.

The Mirzai Khel Dynasty founded by Dost Mohammad Khan, who was entered the service of the Mughal Empire during the reign of Aurangzeb controlled Bhopal during the final imperial years. The clever begums did everything to keep their hold over Bhopal, and at the same time maintaining warm relation with the British. Shahzada Saif Ali khan, a well-known cine star belongs to the same dynasty.

A succession of women rulers – Begums added some spice to the otherwise dull Bhopal’s history. Qudsia Begum (also known as Gohar Begum) started this no so popular trend in 1819. She took over the kingdom after her husband’s death at the tender agre of eighteen years. Her caourage and bravery made up for her illiteracy. The refusal to wear a Purdah, in those days can give you an idea of the courageus Begum. Completely ignoring the male family members she declared that her 2 year old daughter Sikander will follow her as the ruler. Bhopal’s Jama masjid is one of her creations.

Sikandar Begam, like her mother never observed Purdah. She was a well trained warrior and helped the British during the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny. Her successor Shah jahan Begum, shared many common things with Mughal Emperor Shajahan, other than name. she is remembered for a lot of architectural involvements - a city named Shajahanabad, a new palace named Taj Mahal,Ali Manzil, Amir Ganj, Barah Mahal, Benazir Complex, Khawasoura, Mughalpura, Nematpura and Nawab Manzils.

Sulatn jahan Begum, daughter of Shah Jahan Begum took over bhopal after her mother's death. she made a pallace for herself that toady is known as Sadar Manzil and served as headquaters of bhopal Municipal Corporation.Ahmedabad (city namded after her husband), Qaser-e-sultani palace, Noor-us-sabah palace are some of her efforts to beutify bHopal.other tha these acheivements, She was the first president of the All India Conference on Education and first chancellor of the Muslim University of Aligarh.

The peaceful rule of Begums ended with ascession of Nawab Hamidullah, son of Sultan jahan begum in 1926. This impartial and unorthodox rule of Begums gave Bhopal a unique mixed culture. Hindus were entrusted with high profiles, while the fiery pathans acquired a passion for poetry and art.

But, the Gandhian calls of “purna Swaraj” and subsequent independence from British rule was something that they were not ready for. Bhopal was one of the last princely states to join the Indian Union. It was only on 1st May 1949, about two after indepence, finally Bhopal agreed to sign the Instrument of Acccession.

1956, Bhopal was made the capital of the newly created “Madhya Pradesh” – that is Central Province. Earlier during the British times, Dhar enjoyed this statute for quite a long time. A big responsibility was now on Bhopal – to change itself, remodel itself, and most importantly to change the prevailing mindset of the society. All of a sudden there’s an influx of populace, and development of infrastructural facilities. But, somewhere Bhopal felt behind, it could have become the next Hyderabad, or may be like Baroda.

Union Carbide was the firm that gave this city its share of international attention, although at a very high cost. MIC (Methyl isocyanate) was the gas that leaked into the sleepy quarters, killing thousands of people, in sleep.Today, Bhopal has some small industries and a major production site of BHEL (Bharat Heavy Electricals Limited) – Courtesy Nehru.

I reached Bhopal on 24th Feb. 2005 by Bhopal Express, and moved in to Hotel Jehanuma Palace. This was my first introduction to the palace hotels. I was very excited and thought of staying in a royal apartment was something very new for a commoner like myself. The fountains were in full flow and the royal grandeur was pervasive. The whole day passed by with nothing worth mentioning except a visit to Bhojpura in the evening.

Bhojpura has a huge unfinished Shiva temple from the medieval period. “It is the largest Shiva lingam in the whole world,” informed the local pujari, I belief to add some spice to the otherwise morose structure, that stands deserted. He informed that during Shivaratri, it’s even difficult to put your feet. I looked around the temple complex for my areas of interest and moved out.

Walked around the whole hotel, and the swimming pool, just next to my cottage. I don’t know why a strange thought came to my mind - to have a drink in the royal ambience. Enquired about the bar at reception. “Shergar” was a little expensive so I rather made my way to “Tattenham Corner” – a less expensive and more happening place. Why a bar with such a name, wondered myself. Later I found out that Gen. Obaidullah Khan, who build this palace had a special love for horses, and that’s why such names. Shergar was the horse that Sher Shah Suri rode, while driving out Humayun from the Indian sub-continent. And Tattenham is place famous for its racing horses.

After some screwing pegs of desi Indian rum, came out to see off boss on his return journey to Delhi. “Freedom at last” – now I can relish my biryani and thereafter enjoy a sound sleep; I had a full day to spare and Sanchi on my mind.

Next morning woke up late, had breakfast and equipped with didi’s Kyocera Auto focus camera ventured out towards Sanchi. Though of all possible ways to reach there, but just as I walked out the main gate of Jehanuma Palace, one of the Auto Rickshaw Wallah agreed to take me to Sanchi Directly. Well, I had no problem with Auto Rickshaws as they offer more views, are more airy, has enough space to accommodate two/ three persons and most importantly light on your wallet.
Ishrar, my auto Wallah was in his casual attire – a black pathani suit, embroidered with golden threads. As soon as we moved into a nearby petrol filling station, he took out his Khaki Official uniform to avoid any possible confrontations with the traffic officials. We moved through the famous twin lakes – Chota Talab and Bada Talab, the Sadar Manzil and many other monuments from the bygone Begum Era. After a drive of about 45 minutes, we were at the city outskirts.

What to say about the roads in Madhya Pradesh? You have to experience them yourselves. A board showing the State Highway Number is actually a shame for the State Government. It had more of patches and less of smooth surface. It seems as if the road has been completed in patches only. Very high level of dust and a bumpy road drove me to reanalyze my decision to take an Auto Rickshaw. “It would have been better to come by bus,” even Ishrar agreed.

Having passed through sukhi sewanya, Diwanganj we reached Sanchi. On may way I noticed two dead cows whose skins have been taken off. Just as we reached near Sanchi, the stupas made their first mighty appearance. Nearby were colonies of ASI officials. Sanchi has an old Open laboratory for ASI, right from the days of its inception during the imperial days. What we see today at Sanchi is largely because of the painstaking restoration work done by ASI, after the mindless plundering of these stupas by Cunningham and other amateur treasure hunters. Cunningham dismantled Stupa 2; having found some relics he tried his hand on the grand stupa, by driving a shaft right into it at its center. But this time with no rewards.

ASI took the restoration in 1912, under Sir John Marshall. The stones have been kept in place to make the perfect hemispherical shape that they actually resembled once. Sanchi has a special place in Buddhism, even though Buddha himself never came here. There are some contradictions also as none of the major contemporary travelers had talked about it. But, the importance is derived from the fact that these stupas are the oldest surviving Buddhist monuments in the Indian-subcontinent.

Sanchi today has a collection of some really big and some very small stupas, remains of earlier temples, and monasteries from 3rd century B.C. and later periods. This place was groomed a center of learning by the great emperor Ashoka, who converted to Buddhism after the Kalinga war. Took the tickets from the foothill, and moved uphill to the silent stupas.

Entered through the main entrance and after a brief walk, I was standing in front of something that I first saw in my 6th standard social science book. The Sanchi stupas have a special importance in Buddhist stupa and temple architecture. Why stupas? Came the immediate query. What’s wrong with a temple, as in later centuries Buddhist kings have also build temples as done at Bodhgaya? So, what’s so special about this Hemispherical, solid, mound of rubble? There’s no way to the inside, and yes! What decided the size? And how is a stupa more pro-meditation as compared to a temple? My mind was full of questions, and no answer.

Wandered through the whole area for about two and half hours, in bright scorch sunshine. Climbed up the main stupa, and made a parikrama all around. I had a good book on Sanchi by Debala Mitra, but I left it in Delhi, so, there was no means of decoding the jatakas etched on the gateways. The main stupa has four torana or gateways, in all four directions, and two circumambulatory at different elevations. These a circumambulatories were probably used by the Buddhist monks to do the routine parikramas.

Moved to the temple ruins nearby. Only the foundation and some pillars remain today, what used to be great temples. I feel, Sanchi was developed into a pilgrimage center in the later centuries, with Buddhist stupas as well as Hindu temples. This is also a testimony of the tolerant religious nature of those days. Stepping down along the slant, I landed in a Buddhist monastery; took some pictures and moved towards the Stupa 2. On the way, were remains of cellar meant for Buddhist monks. It was all dry and harsh. The trees had already shed their trees and the water bodies started to dry up. The mineral water bottle that I took from the entrance proved quite useful, with nothing else to beat the heat.

Moved around the stupa 2. This place offers a great view of the whole area. A train passed by; I waited for some more time and then decided to call it a day. “What if the mobile phone had not been invented?” came the quest. The security man sitting next to stupa 2 made me to think so. The poor fellow was all alone, in heat with no shade other than a leafless tree, with no real work, and hardly anyone to talk with. The maximum number of tourist visiting Stupa 2 in off-season cannot be more than 10. Now, just imagine how can he kill his time without his sole companion - his mobile phone. “Poor Guy.”

Came back and enjoyed a smoke with Ishrar. Had a close look at the watch, and adding for the return journey time, I decided to go to Islamnagar. After some two hours of journey, we were in Bhopal. Ishrar took the Berasia Highway for Islamnagar. Islamnagar is a place frequently visited by the Bhopalis in the evening as a park. I found a lot of youngsters, enjoying their moments of intimacy in the royal corridors of Chaman Mahal.

Islamnagar is a fertile patch of plain land that had nothing a fort should have. The fortified area has some eroding bastions scattered here and there, in the lush green fields. Even at some places the fortification looks like a weak wall, the crumbling bastion too looked like scaled down versions of other medieval forts. Winning such a weak fort must have been a joke those days.

Moved around the ruins, though some of the part was inaccessible because of renovation works. Chaman Mahal has been restored quite well and gives an idea of the lifestyle of Mirzai Khel Dynasty. Moved around the other palaces, and Hamams.

Asked Ishrar to drop me at Bada Talab that usually has a lot of activity in the evening. I was feeling hungry, as I had taken nothing since the morning breakfast. Moved into a restaurant, took dahi vada, and a steaming cup of tea, followed by some mild puffs of smoke. It is an unmatched venue to witness Bhopal - that once was - in the fading evening light. The towering minarets of the numerous mosques, the yellowish light that gives the lake a golden touch, and the boats on their comeback voyage all add up for a great view to end up the day.

Started for hotel Jehanuma Palace; had chicken biryani for dinner and left hotel for Bhopal Railway Station. While Bhopal offered a great insight into what a princely state looked like and thought about, Sanchi gave an idea of the Buddhist influence in and around India in the ancient days. The remains of Islamnagar stand testimony to the taste and likings of the Mirzai Khel Dynasty whereas Bhojpura tells us about the might of Paramara King Bhoja, who is often remembered in the famous saying, “kaha raja Bhoja kahan gangu teli.”

Gauging Gujarat

2009-11-07T06:37:00.000-08:00

My recent visit to Vadodara or Baroda as it is better known, landed me in one of the most prosperous and industrialized states of the Indian Union - Gujarat that eluded me for many years. With this visit of mine I can claim to have visited all the states of Indian Mainland except the north eastern seven sisters. Gujarat, derived from Gujjar Rashtra, is famous not only for its geography but equally so for its culture and people. Gujarat is blessed with fertile fields and that are very congenial for growing Cotton, Groundnut, and other grains. A good number of small and big rivers satisfy the irrigational needs of a farmer. So, risk of relying heavily on the unpredictable Indian Monsoon is somewhat reduced.

Talking about the vibrant Gujrati culture is quite difficult because to understand the many colours and shades that it encompasses one needs more time and attention. However my recent week long stay did provided me a good first hand glance. A typical Gujrati would never stand in queue for a job rather he would start something of his own. It’s in their blood; Gujjus, as they are fondly called, are born entrepreneurs. Gujrati are fun-loving, hard working and good-travelers. They can be spotted everywhere – from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. Gujarat is also known for its flourishing textile industry and indigenous handicrafts.

Before leaving for Vadodara for Pre-despatch Inspection at ABB, Maneja works I had done all the research. Lonely Planet, Dorling Kindersley, Takeo Kamiya, Ahmedabad ASI Guide book and some inputs from wikipedia was just more than sufficient for me. This time also I made full and multi-dimensional use of my official visit. Top on my agenda were – Champaner Pavagarh, Modhera, Patan, Adalaj, Ahmedabad and local Vadodara sites. I was really excited about the whole idea of having a first look at the Gujarat Vavs, the Ahmad Shahi Mosques, and the princely blocks in Vadodara but equally worried about the prevailing atmospheric conditions, terribly hot and humid.

I started my Gujarat Exploration with one of the UNESCO world heritage sites at Champaner-Pavagarh that has immense historical and architectural importance. Champaner-Pavagarh Archeological Park, as it is known today, comprises of settlements of Champaner at the foothills and Pavagarh atop the hill. Ancient ruined fortifications can be seen all around. When Mahmud Begada who was more famous for eating habits than his administrative skills, planned to capture Pavagarh, held by Rajput Kings, he shifted his base to Champaner. After a long seize of 20 months, finally Begada took control of Pavagarh in 1484. The victory was followed by a reconstruction phase which resulted in a building frenzy of massive mosques and Baolis and renaming of Champaner as Muhammadabad. The love story continued with Muhammadabad being crowned as the capital of the Ahmad Shahi Empire. It ended only when Akbar, the mighty mughal emperor, consolidated his empire with the annexation of Gujarat.

After having my breakfast – ICH Style – at Guest House, I left for the Taxi Stand. My idea was to hire a cab for whole day, but the cabbies asked for an exorbitant amount that drove me to decide in favour of an Auto Rickshaw. The deal was struck for Rs. 350/- plus toll taxes. Guessing rightly about my religious affiliations, my Auto Wallah thought that my only interest would be visiting “Kalika Mata Temple” at Pavagarh hill. Just as we speedily past through Champaner, the minarets of Borah Masjid, also known as Seher ki Masjid, made a rocketing appearance. “Stop”, I screamed “I want to have a closer look at these mosques.” He was quite surprised as a Hindu had expressed a desire to visit a ruined and deserted mosque in scorching summer of May.

Leaving him just opposite the fortified township of Champaner, I entered through the arched gateway. The construction was simply massive, both secular and religious. After a few meters of walk, I was at the entrance of Borah Masjid. A few locals were pondering at the gate whether they should waste Rs. 5/- for visiting the mosque. But, I was charged at the very sight of the huge, spacious and lofty Islamic masterpiece although I had to walk a few extra meters to get the entrance tickets. A chat with ASI Officials at the ticket counter provided me with some invaluable local knowledge about exploring the settlement of Champaner.

The basic layout of Borah Masjid is very simple, but sound, with two towering minarets. The façade has been decorated with finely carved panels showing motifs such as tendrils, leaves, flowers etc. inside the mosque, there is a colonnade of pillars that support the high ceiling. It was quite cool and serenading inside, even if the outside temperature was close to 40 degrees – that’s the beauty of the whole architecture. Having done with the photographic part, I spend some time exploring the dark corners. Before bidding adieu to this massive mosque took some more pictures from outside and moved towards the more famous Jami Masjid.

Walking past the lanes that once had a bustling population during the times of Mahmud Begada; I reached the grandest mosque of Champaner – Jami Masjid. Unlike the Borah Masjid, this mosque has a lofty entrance that leads to the main mosque courtyard. The roofless entrance that must have been covered with a dome has steps on either side for moving in. The central Arch offers a great first view of Jami Masjid with two central minarets dominating the skyline and two more scaled down ones at the corners. The architectural details are very much similar to the Borah Masjid, other than the scale and grandeur. The inner decorative panels are richly crafted, even on the ceilings. The central dome, supported by long stone pillars is a bit different from the typical Muslim style. Here, the supporting pillars are placed in an octagonal array that was a common feature in Hindu Buildings. It’s definitely a fusion of Hindu architectural styles of Solanki Dynasty and Islamic influences of the Ahmad Shahi Empire.

Champaner, in its heydays, was a very prosperous settlement. The climate was salubrious, and life booming. Champaner had around ten mosques, other than a dozen of Baolis, and many other community facilities scattered within a small fortified area. But, moving along was certainly not easy in the humid conditions for me and I decided to leave the other monuments for my next visit. Relaxed for a while at the Main entrance of Jami Masjid; Chatted with the monument attendant and offered him a cigarette than he grasped without any delay. “Saab yeh cigarette hamarey yahan nahi milti”, he added. Finishing off my Classic ultra milds stick and clicking a few photographs, I walked backed for my Auto Wallah.

“Bahat time laga diya’ Yahan kuch hai kya dekhne ko?” This was the immediate response of my Auto Wallah. From there we left for the Pavagarh hill through the forested patches with signboards showcasing the local fauna. After a few meters, a ruined gate that once served as one of the outposts for the ancient citadel came in our way. A peek into the history reveals that the hill of Pavagarh actually had four fortifications, at different times. What are left today are badly ruined stray monuments beyond recognition and some crumbling walls, here and there. After the fall of Pavagarh, Champaner took the centre stage, and Pavagarh silently went into oblivion, only to be rediscovered by the devout Hindus in the 20th Century.

Centuries passed by and for Pavagarh and Champaner, fortune fluctuated beyond imagination. Today, it is Pavagarh that’s pulling the entire crowd and very few people go to see Champaner – a UNESCO world heritage site. Actually in recent times, the aggressive Hindu surge in Gujarat has made Pavagarh more famous than Champaner. Pavagarh, what I found, is commercialized place of pilgrimage with nothing special to offer. It has a modern ropeway, roadside restaurants along the narrow streets that lead to the main shrine a top the Pavagarh hill. I did spotted two ancient Jain temples, one just outside the Ropeway exit and other ruined one next to the dried divine pool at Pavagarh Hill. The main shrine “Kalika Mata Temple” is a modern structure of concrete and steel. Bright paint coats have made it more visually appealing for many, but I was quite disappointed. There was nothing really of my interest; absolutely nothing to instigate my imagination to make out a picture of how Pavagarh would have been in its prime. It is the modernity that’s dominant everywhere and antiquity is definitely lost. Took some photographs from the divine summit and decided to call off the day.

Coming down the hill in Swiss-made ropeway cars, I had my last glimpse of the old hill. Some devout pilgrims were also seen taking on the steep slope on the own. Some idiots were also hovering around the many deserted monuments along the hill ascent. The hill looked very much like the one he had seen in Matheran, very steep and old. Came back and started for Vadodara without any delay. It was around 15 00 hrs and hot winds were blowing all over the place. Reached Ellora Park around 16 30 hrs, took some rest and reviewed all that “kalakari” that I had done with my DSC-H1.

Next three days were pretty normal and routine. Early breakfast, followed by a visit to Maneja for official work, some local sightseeing in the evening, and a simple dinner to finish off the day. Amongst the many local temples I visited, EME Temple was one off-track construction. It was designed by one British engineer named Brig AF Eugene with the corps of Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (EME) of Indian Army long back in 1966. He had tried to fuse in all the religious influences to arrive at a structure with Aluminium sheets. Unfortunately, photography was prohibited. Other temple that came in my way was the ISKCON Temple.

On my 4th day at Vadodara, I went to Ajwa-Nimetha, just because of my driver’s persuasion. He said that the area has a big reservoir and some good gardens. That was also a big disappointment just like Pavagarh. The reservoir has been sealed off for casual tourists as the entire water supply of Vadodara is dependent on it and littering, were common among the Indians, can deteriorate the hygienic quality of the water. Finding nothing interesting and shutter provoking, I made use of the Rs. 55/- entrance ticket including the parking charges, by clicking some butterflies and helping others by clicking their romantic poses.

The poor driver thought that I would be interested in the two amusement parks sitting back to back and would appreciate him for bringing me such a marvel. My response was totally different; showing no interest in the artificial parks, I asked him to take me back to Vadodara. On way back, stopped a while at Payal Snack Shop in Alkapuri Shopping area and packed some samosas and local favorite “Patra.” Patra was really good and stuffy – I had simply been bowled over by spicy Gujrati Cuisine.

Day 5 of my Gujarat Tourney was the most exciting and rewarding one. As always, meticulous planning proved to be of great help. Ahmedabad or Amdabad as it is known locally was on my agenda, and mind. Left for Vadodara railway station without breakfast; took the general ticket; taking the flyover reached platform No. 2, where Gujarat Queen was scheduled to come. Took some bhajiya with green chilies for my breakfast and waited for the train. It was crowded as expected; somehow managed to find a seat after some time. Moving through Anand (famous for Operation flood), Nadiad (that reminded me of Sajid Nadiadwala), Mehmadabad, and many other less known stations, I reached Ahmedabad at 10: 25 hrs. By that time the sun had already fired up the atmosphere.

My plan was to visit Jami Masjid first and then work out the plan for visiting other monuments. Came out of railway station and walked a few meters, to reach a chowk. I was looking for an experienced Auto Wallah as most of the Ahmedabad mosques are located in the congested walled city and found one who agreed to drop me at Jami Masjid for Rs 20. “Why do want to go to Jami Masjid? Are you a Mohammedan? “There was a flurry of queries. I made up story – a really good one. “I am student of Architecture and I am making a thesis on mosques. I have been to some of the major Indian mosques like the Jami Masjid in New Delhi, Mecca Masjid in Hyderabad, and many more”, I replied. “And yes! I am a Hindu.” He was shocked and surprised at the same time. We kept on chatting till he dropped me at Ahmad Shah’s Mosque because of a misunderstanding.

Literally, no one was there except the ASI Monument Attendant, and a local mosque attendant. I decided to stick to my fake identity – post graduate student doing thesis work. I made my way into the old and tattered mosque through the central arched entrance. This mosque has the distinction of being one of the oldest and Ahmad Shah’s personal mosque. The minarets had fallen and the carvings had faded out but whatever has survived is sufficient to make you travel back in time. Imagine 1411, A young sultan had just taken over an empire – insecure and unstable. Defending the boundaries and shrugging off the pressure from Delhi Sultanate would have been his immediate worries. And that’s why the mosque is small and simple, showing less pomp and grandeur. Moved around the interiors for some time and took some photographs.

Next on target was a small, dim and minuscule fort that can be overlooked very easily – Bhadra Fort. It is probably the smallest fort I have ever seen. This too popped up in the initial years of Ahmad Shah’s rule and that provides the logic behind its size. I moved around the edifice, full with encroachers all around, to find any approach up to the top, as my guide book suggested, but found none. Satisfying me with just two shots from outside, I said goodbye to Bhadra, the fort, only by name.

“Symbol of Ahmedabad” that’s how it is known. It also finds a place in the logo of one of the most prestigious management institutes of the world – the Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad. Stone carving has never achieved this level of perfection in any part of the world. The carvings fine to the extent that at places it’s difficult even to pass fingers through the beautiful Jaali. Looking at the workmanship one is bound to think that the monument that has such masterpieces must be associated with someone very important. Well! Here the case is not exactly the same. Sidi Saiyyid was just an abyssinian slave who served Ahmad Shah. There are a total of ten Jaalis – Four in the rear and two each on either side, serving as windows providing light and air.

Overwhelmed with the fineness, I decided to have a closer look and for that I had to walk a few extra meters to reach the rear side. When I had a closer look at the stone filigree, I was even more amazed. The semi-circular motif known as the tree of life is actually not a single stone but a collection of small rectangular slabs, carved and then put in place to create the visual illusion. So, has this de-rated the masterpiece in any sense, or added to the craftsmen credit. Well! I feel although working with small pieces had definitely reduced the risks involved in carving the whole that needs painstaking sincerity and immense patience. But, it left the craftsmen with an arduous task of first creating each piece and then playing jigsaw puzzle with the pieces. Placing the pieces rightly and matching each piece with the adjoining four plates in every detail, every turn and twist of braches of the tree of life was a real challenge.

The “tree of life” is perfect creation that symbolizes the fine craftsmanship that was prevalent in the medieval times. My ASI Guide book informed me that Ahmedabad, in its prime had around 50 finely crafted mosques and tombs. Ahmedabad lost its importance only when Mahmud Begada, shifted his capital to Champaner. Having quenched my photographic desires and clicking every possible frame of the famed “Jaali” I decided to move towards Adalaj for the other famous things. I took services of an Auto Wallah named Ramesh who readily agreed to show me Adalaj and other places of my interest.

Moving past the crowded streets of old city, I saw many big and small mosques. Although ASI maintains these ageing monuments with great care, Muslims are allowed to come in for mass prayers on Fridays. So, in a way, these mosques are more alive on Fridays – very much like those medieval Ahmad Shahi days. Strolling through the Raigarh Gate, we left the old city and after a few minutes we hit the bridge over famous river Sabarmati. Roads were generally in good condition and traffic decent.

River Sabarmati is more famous for an ashram by the same name that Mahatma Gandhi made on its bank, and less for its irrigational benefits it offers. A power station owned by Torrent, a pharmaceutical giant, sits pretty on the other bank and supplies power to the city of Ahmedabad. The importance that Ahmedabad held as a focal point of industrial activities can be gauged from the fact that it was one of the few places in India that had electricity even in the pre independence days. A flourishing textile industry had earned Ahmedabad a sobriquet of “Manchester of the East”. After a pleasant drive of about an hour, we reached Adalaj.

Well! Have you ever imagined how many forms and shapes can an ordinary well, primarily meant for community use, take? I am sure, you all might have seen, a well somewhere in your surrounding or house. The very basic model has a vertical shaft that goes deeper into the ground, with a pulley arrangement for putting the buckets with ropes, into it for fetching the precious water. One more arrangement that you could have seen may be is – the Baoli, predominantly found in the north Indian states of Rajasthan, Delhi, and Punjab. These Baolis mostly have straight stairs, leading into the lower levels. Some resting space is sometimes provided on the sides, for the long distance caravans to have some rest. Baolis in and around Delhi, follow this routine and simple pattern. One of the interesting varieties of these Baoli can be spotted at Abhaneri, in Dausa District of Rajasthan. Here, you have symmetrically laid steps that go as deeper as seven stories under the ground level. At higher levels one temple can be seen, supporting the popular belief that this Baoli served the dual purpose of a temple and a well. Adalaj opened my eyes to a new species of the “well” family that’s known as Vav.

Vav – Gujarati for well is somewhat different not only in its construction but also for the purpose. Adalaj Vav or Ruda Baoli as it is sometimes called, is more spacious and multi-functional and showcases the architectural experimentations that took place in Gujarat. The descend is gradual and smooth as compared to the sharp descend of the Baolis. The ratio of the horizontal length to the corresponding depth is much more than unity. Intricate carvings adorn the supporting pillars and walls. At the bottom, there are two pools, one meant for taking ritual baths, and the other, for fetching water. So, what could have been the possible uses – anything as simple as fetching water, resting place for long travelers, place for community gatherings like marriages, nodal point for sending and receiving messages just like a post office, a temple and many others beyond my knowledge and imagination?

Today, Gujarat has around 100 vavs – most of them in very bad state of maintenance and a very few like Adalaj Vav in moderately good state. Taking one of the three possible entrances, we walked down to the flat intermediate platform. The octagonal layout of pillars suggested presence of a domed roof some time back. Columns spanning the distance between the pillars are richly crafted with geometrical designs. Four beautifully carved Jharokhas are placed at the four corners of the intermediate landing. Looking down from the intermediate platform one can hardly judge the pervasive nature of artistry and detailing. As you descend down with a close watch the things become more visible – carved niches in the surrounding walls with simple motifs depicting the contemporary lifestyle, the marvelous brackets that support the horizontal slabs.

My walk down the straight stairs from the first landing to the base was full with caution and awe. Caution was associated with the fears of moving ahead in dark and the very scale of construction for an ordinary well created the awfulness. Strolling down 101 steps and passing through the jungle of 270 pillars, I reached the base. At a depth of 30 meters, it was really cool despite the outside temperature touching 45 degrees. At the base there are two pools - an octagonal and a circular one for storing water. Since it was close to noon, the light was pilfering right into the entire depth adding a bright yellowish tinge to the otherwise dull sandstone. A still haze prevalent over the pools because of evaporation of water was adding to the mystery.

Just as I took out my camera and looking for the frames, I young boy named Harsha came to me and asked, “Are you a professional?” “No I am not,” I replied. I stuck to my intro for the day and gave him some fundas about the trabeate architectural styles which he readily accepted. My camera kept on clicking with the slightest provocation, although the need of a tripod and wide angle converter did caused a lot of regret. Having moved around the interiors, I decided to have an outside view. “How can you ever make out by seeing from here that such extraordinary constructions exist underneath?” I asked myself. Staircases on either side of the octagonal shafts drew our attention. Taking the congested spiral stairs that allow movement of only one person, we landed at one level below ground. The views were simply great and the carvings maintained the same high levels.

Adalaj Vav had just ignited such a passion and desire to explore that when one of the small children informed us about one more Vav at Ambapur, I immediately decided to visit the same. Ramesh, proved very handy in finding the way out, as few local people understand and speak Hindi. After a ride of few minutes in the deserted and dusty roads of Ambapur, we reached the Vav. Sitting near a modern temple, this Vav is in a bad state; the pillars have fallen at many places, thick heap of dust has covered the carvings; the arched opening into the round vertical shaft has crumbled. There’s no water in either of the pools – the square one and the round one. Not wasting much time came out and had a chat with two kids resting near the Vav. Next on schedule – one more Vav at Ahmedabad.

After having Masala Dosa as our lunch, we moved to Asarwa to have a closer look at the Dada Harir Vav. Dada Harir Vav has the same architectural pattern as the Adalaj Vav, differing only in two aspects – intricacy and size. This Vav has less space and uses plain pillars for most of the construction. Domed roofs at the entrance and at the side stairs are additional. One more thing that caused a worry was the blackening of the stones. The sandstone looked quite dull, lackluster, and morose. I had actually decided to call off the day, when Ramesh spotted a mosque sitting just behind the Vav.

We started our exploration with an ageing attendant cum imam who had lost not an ounce of zeal and passion for the otherwise neglected and disdained monument. He took us to all the dark and unexplored corners; passing through many - straight and spiral - hidden staircases, he took us right to the dome top. “Paarow, Photo Paar low” he kept on chanting as he showed us around the mosque and the dargah sitting next to it. After clicking a few carving close ups, and having a short discussion with imam, on a rather sensitive subject of communal harmony in our country, we made our way to our next destination – the Jain temple complex of Huthee Singhjee.

This temple, build somewhere around the mid nineteenth century,1848 to be precise, is a true marvel, although an outside glimpse can hardly give an idea about the treasures that lie inside. Ornate marble carvings all around this Jain complex left no doubt about the flawless workmanship prevalent in those days. This temple dedicated to 15th century Jain Tirthankara, Dharmanatha, has a rectangular layout, with high walls all around enclosing the main shrine.

Do look out for those beautifully sculpted figures that adorn the supporting brackets at the entrance. As the fading sun had left the stone floorings terribly hot and the coir mats were just not sufficient to make it walk able, I decided to pack and leave. The frustration created by prohibitory orders about photography inside the temple premises added the extra fuel for my decision. Before bidding my final adieu, I decided to have a parikrama around the whole complex. A book on the temple complex by one of the descendants of Seth Huthee Singhjee at the ticket and publication counter drew my immediate attention. Going through its pages I made up my mind to go for it, but the hefty price tag made me to change my mind. But, I still feel that the book was a good first hand account of the temple history. Anyway, with no regrets, I returned the book and after wasting some time glancing through the picture postcards, told Anandji to move straightway to the bus Stand.

Just as we were moving through the busy streets towards Ahmedabad Bus Stand, one of the many stray mosques with two high-rise minarets drew my attention. The sun was fading by the time and with a massive tree nearby and perfect blue sky in the background, I just can’t stop myself from clicking. The minarets looked very similar to those on my ASI Guidebook cover. I decided to have a closer look, and entered the mosque. Ahmedabad, in it’s hey days, had around 50 beautifully crafted mosques. Thought some these mosques have lost their minarets because of high seismic activity in this zone, but they still stand out in the haphazardly created urban concrete clusters, and most of them are still being visited on Fridays for prayers. I look back into my guide books later informed me that, it was Muhafiz Khan’s Mosque that provoked me for the photo shoot.

On our way to Ahmedabad Bus stand, we stopped briefly for a frozen cup of special lassi in the old city. It was laced with pieces of papaya, cheeku, and some other fruits with traces of cashew, and kishmish. At bus stand, I was welcomed by a long queue of passengers waiting at the ticket counter. Bidding farewell to Anandji after some bargaining I joined them in the queue as we waited for the next bus for Vadodara. While in the Queue, I had a brief chat with a Sales Executive from Bombay who sat next to me in the bus. The drive to Vadodara was unique in many ways. This was my first ride on a National Express Highway. Ahmedabad Vadodara NE-1, as it is known, is the smoothest patch of Indian road that I have ever traveled. Our bus took around two hours to whiz past this distance of about 100 kms.

Secondly it provided me a glimpse into the Gujarat countryside. A window seat was an added advantage with soothing breeze taking away some of the fatigue. Images of Adalaj Vav, Dada Harir Vav, Ambapur Vav, and Ahmedabad kept on coming before my eyes wherever I closed them. When I reached Vadodara, it was already dark; took an Auto Rickshaw and moved to Ellora Park. A refreshing bath, followed by a homely dinner at transit camp left hardly any desires, except for one to glance through my photographic exploits during the day. Relaxing on my bed in the air-conditioned room, and putting my digicam on “Display” mode I gave a closer look at what I have captured and where I missed out. A sense of achievement and a desire to revisit Ahmedabad were high on my mind. Till now I had stuck to my planned schedule; although I had kept aside Patan and Modhera for my next visit, but still I was more than satisfied.

Day 6 of my tour was left for exploring the local monuments of Vadodara, and I did the same. Architecture was high on my priority list. Vadodara remained the seat of Gaekwads, who nurtured their capital with some great architectural creations. Gaekwads took over Vadodara from the mughals who were ailing after the death of Aurangzeb, in 1721. The third battle of Panipat in 1761 somewhat weakened the might of Marathas but Vadodara remained in their hands until Indian independence. Vadodara stepped into modernity with the efforts of one its illustrious ruler, Sayaji Rao Gaekwad, who worked for establishing educational institutions, libraries, Baroda University apart from developing the local textile industry.

Vadodara, today, is a bursting city with all modern facilities, good educational institutions, a booming engineering industry, many imposing imperial mansions from the bygone colonial era, and more importantly people with a great mindset – liberal and friendly. My interests although were restricted to the exquisite architectural works of Charles Mant and R F Chisholm. I started my tourney with Maharaja Sayaji Rao University – Faculty of Arts building.

Sitting pretty in a well manicured slanted lawn, right in the middle of the city, this building designed by Chisholm is real mix of Islamic and Byzantine styles. If you are looking for any local, I mean Hindu or Maratha influences; you may be disappointed, as there are very few. The walls are done with un-plastered brick masonry – fine and neat; green glazed tiles have also been used to break the red monotony. The arches, quite a good number of them, follow an Islamic pattern, very similar to the ones at Alai Darwaja in Qutub Complex. There is an array of circular windows on the dome that allows natural light to come in reducing the electricity needs of the building. A hefty sum of Eight Lakh thirty thousand and one hundred and fifty rupees was spend in the year 1880 to put up this stupendous structure. Sayaji Rao III was the pushing force behind all this building frenzy for a very noble cause of promoting education.

But, what makes this mammoth monument stand apart, among the others build in Indo-Saracenic style by the British Architect is the somewhat dominating dome on the convocation hall. This dome, inspired from the Gol Gumbaz in Bijapur has the distinction of being the second largest dome in India. Although I could not see the lavish interiors but a vintage photograph taken by an unknown British photographer from the Curzon collection can gave me an idea about opulence. After moving around the whole complex and clicking at the same time, I decided to wrap up my gear. “What the hell is he doing here with a camera and ceaseless curiosity in his eyes?” the students roaming there were clueless. Chisholm who designed many other imperial buildings in other parts of India will definitely be remembered for this majestic edifice.

After a short ride in a metered auto rickshaw, I reached the Maharaja Fateh Singh Museum in the palace premises. The area within the palace premises has many insignificant dilapidated edifices, scattered here and there. Moving past some of them, I reached the ticket counter of the museum. Apart from a few classics by Raja Ravi Verma, the museum houses European artifacts such as statues, paintings from less known western artists. Well! Obviously the westerner would never give away their “Mona Lisa” and whatever failed to match their taste landed in the princely statues of India. Wasting no time, I decided to move to the Lukshmi Vilas Palace – the costliest private mansion in India at the time of its completion.

Charles Mant, a contemporary of Chisholm, was bestowed upon the responsibility of designing a palace that obviously shall symbolize the Gaekwad grandeur and more importantly reflect their secular views. For Mant, it meant that he has to create a structure that pleases a Hindu, a Muslim, a Sikh and a Christian in the same way. And even if I am a layman about Architecture, but still I feel, Mant was is a serious trouble. Grandeur, well, looking into the lavish use of Italian marble, Venetian stained glasses, stucco decorations, mosaic murals with Egyptian motives and other European stuff, Mant definitely met his first objective. But, the second hurdle of harmonizing the religious fervors somewhat missed the target. The blending, to my eyes, was not as smooth, as the Gaekwads would have desired.

Looking into the palace layout, it’s quite evident that the first block resembles a Hindu temple, while the next one has a dome, a predominant Islamic feature. The high tower next to the domed Islamic portion reflects alienation towards a Christian Church. While the last block showcases the architectural features of a Gurudwara. The interiors are really lavish, with finely carved balustrades, scintillating chandeliers, gorgeous glasswork, fabulous flooring, and engraved stone panels. The only disappointing thing was prohibition on photography.

A Serenading silence prevailing over the whole palace complex suggested that it no longer finds any royal attention. Few ageing attendants and fewer tourists because of an exorbitant entrance fee of one hundred Indian rupees have left this fine opulent building in disdain. I was taken directly to a hall that houses specimens from the Gaekwad Royal Armory. Some indigenous and mostly western weapons were stacked tightly without much fanfare. The ageing attendant, Mr. Jadhav, tried to instigate a sense of Gaekwad valor by cooking some spicy stories from wars, but, with no success.

After finishing off the escorted trip of the palace interiors with the royal attendant, I moved outside. The photography restriction was no more there and with no further delay I started clicking. While I was busy capturing the Lukshmi Vilas Palace, one of attendants called me, “Aap pehle andar dekh lijiye, baad me nahi dikhayenge.” I made my way to a big hall that was used for mass public gatherings. Our guide drew our attention to the numerous electric lights that were fitted at the ceiling. “Did they have electricity in those days?” the query came immediately to my mind, but I kept it to myself. After glancing through some other western artifacts customized to Indian taste, we moved towards the Naulakhi Baoli.

Naulakhi Baoli erased all my doubts about the electric power requirements of Lukshmi Vilas Palace. “Do you have any idea why this Baoli is named so? Asked Mr. Jadhav, our guide. Well! May be nine lac rupees were spent on making this Baoli. “No, this Baoli was build to provide cooling water supply for a German generator that cost Nine Lacs in those days and catered to all the electric demands of the imported lightings in the palace” informed Mr. Jadhav. Today, this Baoli is in total neglect; some of the supporting blocks have already collapsed and many other are waiting to follow suit. The abandoned reservoir has found some interesting occupants – snakes. After a brief stay of few minutes, we made our way to the Palace.

With permission from Mr. Jadhav, I went on a photo shootout of the palace exteriors after finishing off his routine guided trip. Fusion is the keyword wherever one can see. One more interesting thing that’s worth mentioning is the use of various shades of stones to create a visual impact. The whole idea was to save the costs incurred on painting the palace. A floral motif with red sandstone is perfectly placed to spice up the otherwise boring yellowish façade while a grayish base has been attached to a beautifully carved yellow pillar to make it somewhat contrasting. After clicking a good number of photographs, had a smoke, and left for Sayaji Baug, only after satisfying the vigilant caretaker at the entrance who noted down literally everything that you need to log on a hotel register on my entry. I walked down a few yards to photograph one of the many elaborate gates that once led to the lavish palatial mansion.

This was second trip to Sayaji Baug – enormously popular amongst the locals for an early morning jog, or a casual evening strolls with local snacks thelas offering nearly everything that one may desire. Children who love exploring the many museums it houses can hardly resist a chugging ride in the toy train that encircles this Public Park - designed and planned flawlessly. There’s something for everyone – for grown ups and children with scientific taste, there’s Sardar Patel Planetarium. Also, of interest to both children and adults is the Fish Museum. Western influences are pervasive – only Indian thing being the statue of greatest Maratha warrior ever – Chhatrapati Shivaji.

But, what drew me to Sayaji Baug was the Baroda Museum – another ageless creation by Chisholm. More than the routine content of museum the architectural experimentations of Chisholm appealed me. This building, made with bricks has extended windows that stand out distinctly from the tiled sloping roof. A similar, but finer version of the same architectural style can be seen at Trivandrum - Napier Museum. Other things that drew my attention were the many cast iron vases adorning the squares, the majestic lions guarding at the rear entrance and the many small, stray constructions from the colonial days. My walk around the whole park in the sweltering May heat had left me craving for some drinks and food. After drawing a few slow puffs out of cigarette stick, I moved to Havemor, one of the many finest places in Vadodara to dine in. One Chicken Biryani, yeah, that’s what I ordered, with a bottle of appy fiz, purely on waiters recommendation.

What I missed out in this trip is the Makarpura palace of the Gaekwads that now houses the Air Force Training Centre. Baroda Air Force station, like the other defense installations, is not open to outsiders. But, I did get a glimpse of this magnificent structure made in an Italian Renaissance style, through the massive entrance gates, designed in the lines of champ esyyles in France during my visits to Maneja. Designed by Chisholm, this massive palatial construction stands apart amidst the neighboring modern concrete structures and high boundary walls with its red and white contrasting colours. “Wish Bhatta mama was posted here; he could have easily moved me around the palace”, I thought helplessly.

Desperation and frustration caused by waitlisted return ticket that I had could hardly erase those vivid images of my brief, though enjoyable, stay at Baroda. It matched my expectations with all those princely creations, an eventful history, spicy Gujrati snacks and most importantly - fun loving vibrant people with liberal and welcoming mindset. My doubts relating to communal flairs caused by the razing of a mosque right in the middle of road, just before my visit, were also put to rest. Not surprisingly, Narendra Modi still finds place in majority of Gujju hearts. Gujarat that faced most of the wrath of fierce and brutal Islamic invaders has a historical reason for this communal tilt towards nationalist Hinduism. But, what I liked most about them was their immense enthusiasm for life and celebration of the same.

Shekhawati - glimpses of a bygone era

2009-10-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

The desire was always there, but the occasion was missing. When I first read about this semi-arid, less-known, and least traveled destination in northeastern Rajasthan, I decided to have a look, but because of some reason or other, the trip was shelved. It was the month of September and the hot summers had just made way for somewhat less hot days and cooler evening. The atmosphere was just great for weekends and picnics. Once the destination was finalised, I started to think about the possible options to explore “Shekhawati” literally meaning the garden of shekha.

Shekhawati was founded by Rao Shekha in the 17th century and at that time, Shekhawati held an important and strategic location along the trade routes piercing through the barren patches of Rajasthan to the ports in Gujarat. Shekhawati was abuzz with traders and caravans that brought enormous prosperity to the land and the people. But, as always things do change, and it did changed around 1820 with the advent of East India Company and other foreign traders, who preferred other ports on the Western Ghats apart from their favorites of Bombay, Madras and Calcutta. Every European power developed its own port; Masulipatnam, Chandernagore, Tranquebar, Goa, Calicut, and Pondicherry were some of them. Shekhawati lost its importance, charm, and the influential Marwaris.

Do I need a partner? Or should I pack my bags and leave on my own? Decided to ask Aninda, if he’s interested in the trip. He was positive as always, but had his doubts about the place when he heard Shekhawati for the first time. I persuaded him about the tourist potential of Shekhawati, showing the latest edition of Travel Plus as an evidential proof. After turning some pages, he gave his assent. And, popped the second dilemma; regarding the possible ways of exploring Shekhawati. Whether to take “Shekhawati Express” for Nawalgarh and explore the region from there, or barge on my first motor expedition outside Delhi with my little but powerful Maruti Zen. “Okay! Let’s start with Shekhawati as my maiden motor-expedition,” I told myself.

On fifth of September 2005, I started early morning from Sarojini Nagar, with mixed emotions of excitement and fear. Mom and Dad came down to see me off, as they were more worried than me, about my driving abilities and street smartness. As always, I had packed all the printouts on Shekhawati, my guidebook, and my inseparable digicam; Music was loud and mood was understandably upbeat. After reaching Dwarka and taking Aninda, we moved on towards Gurgaon. Traffic was thin and driving was still a pleasure; but just as we were in Gurgaon, heavy crowds of weekeders greeted us. A road diversion at Gurgaon caused a delay of about 20 minutes. Having left Gurgaon, we moved passed Pataudi, reached Rewari. From Rewari, we headed towards Narnaul, taking an ill-maintained state. The road condition was really bad and no vehicle other than agricultural tractors, and state transport buses could be seen. Stopped for a while to enjoy a smoke, and changed guards. Now, Aninda was driving while I relaxed and gazed at the uninspiring and morose landscape outside.

“Wham” it shocked both of us as Aninda busy talking over his cell phone had landed in a huge pothole and the fuel tank had just touched the bottom. I asked Aninda to give me the charge of the steering, but he denied. Just as we hit the state highway near Narnaul, it happened again; this time a tightly packed Trekker rammed into the rear when we slowed down to ask for some route guidance. Both of us got down and did some literal bashing, assessed the damage and with no hope for any compensation from the poor driver, moved on with the damaged bumper. Stopped at a roadside restaurant, had our brunch and moved on towards Chirawa. By this time the atmosphere had already warmed up and the two mishaps had left a bad taste in my mouth. I was rethinking on the whole idea of traveling with my own car rather than taking the safer option of Shekhawati Express. We past through the towns of Chirawa, Bagar, Jhunjhunu and many other small villages on our way asking many a times for direction.

As we had no firm plan, we decided to make Mandawa our first halt. Just as we started towards Mandawa from Jhunjhunu through the ill-maintained road, a big pool of water was waiting for us. It was exactly in the middle of the road; with all the traffic moving along its sides with some make shift arrangement of stone slabs put in place to facilitate the movement. “No way” This is how I felt when I saw this pool for the first time. I enquired some little boys wandering nearby, “Is there any other way to Mandawa?” the reply was negative, but I decided to try a diversion road that looked like a by-pass.

Moved for a while along the deserted road; finding no one, not even cattle, on the way. Came back with a big question in mind? Should I take the plunge in a pool, with no idea of its depth or take the side narrow stone slab path? Finally I somehow managed to pass that hurdle not without a beating to my well-maintained and new Maruti Zen. After an hours drive along the patched narrow roads, we reached a different world – the Marwari heartland of Mandawa. All along the path fast speeding trekkers and jeeps kept coming from the other direction, every now and then, pushing me to leave the patches of tarmac.

It definitely was not the right time to move along the streets of Mandawa; the heavily crowded narrow streets with rickshaws, thelas, a few cars, and buses had hardly any space to move in. It was all choked and suffocating. Having moved past the main chowk and Mandawa Fort, we checked in into Hotel Heritage Mandawa. After a refreshing face wash, we decided to take a tour of Mandawa, and left for the same with a guide from the hotel. This was our first close scrutiny of the famous Havelis of Shekhawati, that we were about to explore for the next two days.

Our guide - a young boy who neither had the requisite knowledge about the history of these Havelis nor the compassion to unfold that Marwari spirit of mansion making that created these Havelis in this semi-arid region. He was more interested in learning French and going to Jaisalmer to earn quick money. He guided us through the empty streets to one of the many abandoned Havelis in Mandawa. The occupants had left the mansion long back; the faithful caretaker has encroached the rooms near the main entrance and charges Rs. 10/- to peek inside. We moved around the approachable corners with the consent of the caretaker. It was a reward for the painstaking 8 hour journey.

Our next destination was Modi Haveli – slightly better maintained and open to tourists. This Haveli introduced me to the very basics of a Marwari Haveli. Climbed up the hidden staircases and made our way right to the very top. “What can create such abandonment?” what drove the Marwaris to leave such beautifully crafted and tastefully decorated Havelis? Okay! Even if they had moved for better trading fortunes, why this disregard for such heritage? I was clueless as these Havelis belong to some the richest Indian Business families for whom the upkeep is definitely not a problem.

Pondering over the many possibilities and ways of reviving the whole area, we moved around some other Havelis nearby. The situation was pathetic; the smoke, created by the occupants to light up their stoves, had blackened some of the murals on the nearby walls, forever. And, the decay is still on, with total neglect on part of governmental agencies and local people. As these Havelis are private properties and the owners have no interest in them anymore, even though some invaluable heritage is laying there no one is actually accountable for their upkeep. Actually in India, we have so much of heritage that we can afford to neglect these precious ageless creations with ease.

After a few minutes of walking, we were at the little market at Mandawa – very ordinary and quite. I stuck a good deal for a Ganesha painting on an old deed stamp paper. We packed some Chaakki Churni – the local sweet – made of besan and ghee. It was around 1900 hrs when we made our way back to the hotel, but it was all over in Mandawa. Markets had few buyers, no hustle bustle, and the shopkeepers were waiting to put down their shutters. After a cup of hot tea at the hotel, a really mischievous idea came up. “What about a peg or two of rum, to shrug off the fatigue?” and the response came immediately, “What an idea?” Took a quarter and some boiled eggs with chopped onions, salt, and some chilies and what to say, it was perfect.

By the time we moved for our moonlight dinner, our mood was great. A synonym for Hindi word Suroor can aptly describes the state of mind. Rajasthani folk artists were adding the local flavour with their recitals. A group of western tourists were staring us as if they wanted to know how we, Indian people, have reached Shekhawati. Everything was perfect, except the food for which we paid Rs. 2X175/-. After our meals we moved around the balcony and spend some time enjoying the views of Mandawa. Without any plans for the next day went to bed and then to deep sleep. The strenuous and exhausting drive and the rum punch complemented for a sound sleep.

It was around six in the morning, when I wake up. Aninda was in still in dreams and I decided not to disturb him. Made my way to the balcony, and started to chalk out the possible plans for the day. It was slightly cold, but manageable with a t-shirt. Although I had planned a four day stay at Shekhawati, but the driving fatigue had already shattered my spirits and I decided to cut short it by a day. Looking at my travel resources, I decided in favour of Fatehpur, Ramgarh and Mahansar.

The town of Fatehpur was established by the Muslim nawabs in 1451 but later the Shekhawati Rajputs took charge over this territory in the 18th century. Just as we were about to reach the town of Fatehpur, a strange baoli drew our attention. These baolis are wells with minarets and quite popular in this region. Why the minarets? The reason that I could think off was the probably to act as a light house for someone desperately looking for water. The very sight of these minarets might have provided the hope of finding water for the caravans moving around this arid region. Stopped for a while took some photographs and moved ahead.

A quaint chhatri along the main road that connects Fatehpur to Mandawa forced us to stop and have a closer look. We entered through a small opening in the main gate with great caution; no one could be spotted inside, it was like many of the other abandoned places of Shekhawati. “This structure must have been a grand one in its heydays” I said to myself. Climbing up the straight stairs we reached the raised platform. After spending some time and clicking a few snaps, just as we decided to move ahead a boy appeared from nowhere. He was not quite sure what to say, as where we. Kept on staring us; I asked him, “Do you live here, in this chhatri? He just nodded his head and smiled. Bidding adieu to that chap we moved towards.

After a short drive we reached the Fatehpur government hospital. It was like any other abandoned structure found abundantly all over Shekhawati. Only thing that distinguished this structure from the others was a small board on the entrance mentioning the Working hours and other details. When Aninda enquired the Hospital Caretakers about the old havelis and temples of Fatehpur, they directed us to relatively new temple nearby. The construction was new and temple attendant was rubbing his eyes to ward off the sleepy feeling. Having gauged his non-welcoming mood we decided to shed our religious feelings and move ahead for Nadine Le Prince Haveli and Cultural Centre.

After parking the car near the Hospital entrance, we moved across the road to look for the French Haveli. French? How come a French Haveli came up in this remote dusty town of Fatehpur? The doubt was obvious. Suddenly there was a rush of some foreign tourists coming out from a Haveli. We also decided to have a look at what’s in store. It was a pretty ordinary Haveli compared with the high standard of minute detailing that is prevalent in Shekhawati. Some renovations were going on to make this Haveli more colourful and more arousing for the tourists. The renovators told us about their plans and the intentions their sethji has to preserve this heritage. The presence of an old French couple again led me to think about the special fondness that French people have for these properties.

Our introduction as Journalists from the TIMES OF INDIA, forced one of the persons to accompany us to our ultimate destination - Nadine Le Prince Haveli and Cultural Centre. We continued with our fake identities for the next two days that gifted us with special privileges and rewards literally everywhere we went. The caretaker treated us with personal attention and showed us the whole Haveli. We showed the grip over our subject by asking a few questions about the bouno fresco technique, the restoration and the roadblocks faced during the restoration. We did asked him about the French lady who took all the pain in restoring this Haveli that was earlier known as Nand Lal Devra Haveli. “Madam took this Haveli for 32 lacs and she spend another 70 lacs to make to this Haveli look the way it is today,” the caretaker added. He continued, “The upper floors are air-conditioned and serves as the private residence of madam, who often visits India with her sons and daughter-in-laws. Having moved around every nook and corner of this repainted Haveli, and saying goodbye to the caretaker, we decided to have wrap up Fatehpur and head towards Ramgarh.

Just as we moved along the narrow road towards Sethon-ka-Ramgarh, a long pool of water welcomed us right in the heart of Fatehpur Town. The traffic of camel carts, cyclists, and pedestrian by passers was moving along the two sides of the street. Only god knew the depth the pool that stood between us and Ramgarh. With no other options decided to take the plunge; “thud” a big bang and the engine stopped, with my car floating amidst the pool; the wheels completely submerged. For a new driver like me, on my maiden trip it was nothing less than a dreaded nightmare that left me clueless for a while. Restarted the engine and putting on the first gear slowly dragged out my new car cautiously. A decent track gave a respite after a few meters. Aninda wanted to have something as we had skipped the breakfast. He went down to bring something as I waited inside the car. And what he bought back was equally funny and frightful. Samosas, oil soaked and fried long back, with ghooghnee in small leaf bowls. When it became apparent that we cannot have it while the car is in motion, we decided to have a small halt and had out breakfast.

The drive from Fatehpur to Ramgarh was a unique one – feeble traffic; empty terrain – denude of any human and animal; the straight road moving up and down; periodic bumps and rough patches; obstructive road extension exercises; R D Burman; and a continuous monitoring of the fuel meter. By the time we reached Fatehpur, the petrol indicator was low, and the non-availability of any petrol pump at Fatehpur added more to our woes. Ramgarh was actually the place where we could actually tank up and move ahead. After reaching Ramgarh, inquired about the Petrol pump, took ample petrol, and without wasting any time moved towards Mahansar.

Ramgarh much like the other Shekhawati towns had narrow streets, and heavy traffic. What can you expect from a remote, feebly populated village with no proper roads to reach there! Well Mahansar actually surprised us with its hidden and unexplored treasures. After moving around the fort, looking for its entrance, we finally entered the fort through an arched gate. Literally, no other person, local, or tourist could be spotted there. Just as I was parking the car, a boy came into the picture. After assessing the damage that my car underwent during a small skirmish with a camel cart at Ramgarh, fired up a cigarette to ease off some tension and moved into the fort after a little enquiry.

A series of irregular and uneven stairs led us to the central courtyard of the fort. There was nothing royal about it; a mechanic was waiting to repair the gas stove burner, objects that reflect a plain middle-class lifestyle were all around with no one around the place we could talk to. After some time a person appeared in a plain kurta and offered his services. Just as in Fatehpur, we played the TOI card. He was clean bowled, by our introduction. We showed a desire to move around the fort complex, and have a look at Room No. 6. He associated a boy with us, who took us to all the hidden corners of the Mahansar Fort. Standing at the topmost point of the Mahansar fort, we gazed through the barren terrains of Mahansar. It was really exciting to think about the bygone days, when Mahansar was in its royal grandeur.

After some relentless hovering here and there, and a brief rest at Room No. 6, we decided to have our lunch at Mahansar Fort. To add a personal touch to the hospitality, the same person who welcomed us, came and initiated a chat. In due course of our interaction we came to that we actually were talking to the heir prince of the erstwhile Mahansar State. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that someday I would sit with a maharaja on the same table and have an informal chat about the pre-independence raj era. “Okay, I do agree Mahansar is very small and not many people know about it, but still, “a king is a king.”

An oil painting of the last recognized ruler of Mahansar adorned the wall just behind the present prince, adding to the nostalgic ambience and charm, as he carried on with stories about his grandfather. “The Shekhawati Empire, at one point of time was bigger and mightier than Jaipur State, but the policy of dividing the state amongst the many sons the Maharaja had rather than nominating one son as the king, resulted in many small kingdoms”, informed the crown prince. The whole idea was to avoid the raging wars amongst the many princes’ post Maharaja Death to take over the Empire. These small kingdoms had to develop and maintain their own armies; manage bureaucratic ties with friends and foes; show off some grandeur and pomp at fairs and festivals to maintain their royal status. This lead to poor financial health, simple and less royal life style, and inevitable diminishment onto oblivion with time. Today how many people know about Mahansar, Dundlod, Nawalgarh, Fatehpur, and Ramgarh? Not many.

Apart from the aged fort, fading royalty, and simple lifestyle what impressed us was the Hospitality. Had our lunch in the very homelike restaurant at Mahansar, with some of the local preparations served on our table. Aninda wanted to feast on the Mahansari Mutton, as the prince had spoken a lot about its taste. But, the non-availability forced us to go for the vegetarian Shekhawati delicacies. Meanwhile, the very thought of crossing watery potholes at Fatehpur again on our return journey gave me cold shivers. That’s the reason why I discussed about the poor connectivity of Mahansar with the prince and what he told was really soothing to my ears. Finished our lunch, and after scrapping the visitor book at Mahansar, we decided to move towards the other main attraction – Sone Chandi ki Dukaan. The visitor book was full with comments from visitors, all around the world. Mahansar, what I found, is just perfect for a simple, quite and peaceful weekend holiday.

Our next destination was one of the best kept secrets of the whole Shekhawati area. Although there are hordes of havelis elsewhere in Shekhawati, Mahansar is the only place where one can witness murals done with pure gold and silver. Sone Chandi ki Dukaan, sitting next to the Mahansar fort, is not an attention puller certainly. For most of the time it is locked, however one can get the keys from the grocery shop nearby and peek into an unexplored world. It has six rooms in total; three in the front painted elaborately; while the other three in the rear are quite ordinary. We were told that both Ramayana and Mahabharata are painted on its vaulted ceilings – with all episodes in totality. The purpose of this unique building is also debatable, as it doesn’t follows the traditional Haveli layout. Two probable uses could have either been a shop, as the name suggests, or a place for the baaratis to stay, as goes the local folklore.

Whatever is the reason, but the workmanship is perfect. Yellow, red and green colours have been used predominantly. At many places, the yellow gold coatings have been scrapped off and to prevent any further damage the nearby grocery shop owner has been empowered with a lock and key set to safeguard the Haveli. Interestingly, here also we found one visitor book. After exploring the Haveli in great detail just we decided to move towards Nawalgarh – this time via Bhikansar and not via Fatehpur – as guided by the prince. In another hour or so we reached Mandawa; stopped near an abandoned structure near the state highway and headed towards Nawalgarh via Mukundgarh & Dundlod.

Just as we took the diversion for Nawalgarh, we stopped a while at a roadside stall for cup of tea with smoke puffs. A placard informing about the Ramesh Jangid Guest House at the outskirts drew my attention and we decided to go there. “Sorry Sir! But we have no vacant rooms, it’s all occupied,” informed Mr Jangid. Enquired about any other good hotel in Nawalgarh, he said, “There are few good hotels in the town.” Just as we were moving into Nawalgarh town, a new problem awaited us. A stretch of sand, cresting in the middle stood like a hurdle between us and Nawalgarh Town. Judging by its height, and keeping in mind, the low ground clearance of my car, I slowed down a bit and rolled into the quagmire. And that was the mistake; after a few yards, the car failed to move forward; the tyres kept on rotating on the loose sand. I was in full tension and sweat; what to do now? How to come out of it?

What looked like a bizarre phenomenon to me was actually something quite normal for the locals. A fellow came and said in a taunting manner, “kya saab! hum to Maruti 800 bhi bhaga ke nikaal lete hai, yeh to phir be ZEN hai.” I tried to put on gear many a times but it was in vain, the car didn’t move a single inch. He came forward and advised us to remove the sand around four tyres. Only after removing the sand the car moved; I had no courage and skills to try it again, instead I asked the local fellow for an alternative way to Nawalgarh Town. Yes! There was one, through the narrow domestic streets running parallel to the main sandy entrance.

Driving through the streets was a horrifying experience; the roads were not just bad, they were oozing with over flown drains on either side. At places, to cover the open drains, stone slabs have been put over them. There were a plenty of vendors, with their thelas, and stray local people, lazily moving all around the place. If these things are not going to cause you any trouble, then there are the occasional camel carts, indigenously made, with used rubber tyres, suddenly coming your way. One such cart blocked my way near the town entrance. Guess! What could have been his response? He was smiling and waiting for me to get aside so that he can move. You know why? Because a car understands what reverse gear means, but Camel knows only one way and that’s – Forward.

After negotiating the busy bustling market place, we reached our destination, our shelter for the night – hotel Bhawar Niwas Palace – the most opulent heritage property in Nawalgarh. The palace was a great recluse from the busy town; a big gateway welcomes you to its unexplored world; the spacious mansions have a colonial feeing; a small cattle farm with some deers and camels; a swimming pool with no water and a complete quite environment adds to its rustic charm. And as expected, the charges were quite high – and that’s the reason why it remains vacant most of the time. “Times of India” Okay but it will be the final time, we reached a consensus. The manager agreed to offer us one room in one of the many outhouses that surround the main palace for just 1000 bucks. We were trying to hide the happiness evident on our faces, as we moved towards our isolated and quite room.

So, what to do, now? After a drive of around six hours, I was really exhausted and was in no mood to move out. A face wash and a few puffs were sufficient to raise the energy level marginally and we left for the town market in search of the real rejuvenator – a bottle of Indian desi Rum. When there’s a will, there’s a way – we got everything that was on our wish list. We decided stick to our Mandawa Menu – Rum with coke, boiled eggs, chopped onions and some bhujjia, although we had to scan every corner of the market to find the cold drink.

After a refreshing and much needed bath, took some rest while Aninda tried everything to have a dip in the age-old bathtub. And then, started the party we eagerly waited for. It worked like a miracle, especially for the fatigue and body pain that I had. I was riding high, high on the clouds. After a few rounds of rum, and gossips, we decided to move for our dinner. The atmosphere was great, simply great – moderately cold climate, light mood, royal comforts, lone and quite surroundings – it certainly was one of my best and extravagant experiences. Had our dinner, and took rescue to the clean beds in our spacious room.

Fresh–n-oozing with energy - That’s how I was feeling, when I woke up early in the morning. Aninda went for a small walk around our outhouse, while I did some free hand exercises near the cast iron chair. Sight of some playful rabbits in a nearby park forced me to take out my camera. But, instead of photographing those rabbits, we ended up taking some silly pictures. We skipped the routine breakfast at Hotel and decided to go for some local street food instead. But, finding the same was not as easy as we thought. After wasting some time at a restaurant and waiting a while for the samosas to be ready at Nawalgarh Market, at last we broke our fast with plain chai and sev served on a piece of newspaper.

Morarka Haveli, sitting next to the busy town chowk, was the one from where we started our Haveli search. Mr. Hot Chand, chief conservator, Morarka Art Foundation gave us a warm welcome and some literature about the Haveli & the bouno technique of fresco making. Guess what prompted such a response – it was courtesy our fake identity of TOI personals. He showed us everything that the exquisite Haveli had to offer. The lockers that once protected Sethji’s wealth were laden with heavy dust and lying in total neglect. Having explored all assessable and dark corners of the Haveli, we bid adieu to Mr. Hot Chand.

Dr. Ramnath A Poddar Haveli and Museum was our next halt. This Haveli is probably the best preserved and the most inviting one in the whole of Nawalgarh that has around 600 havelis in total. The exteriors were exquisitely painted with murals. We were welcomed at the gate by one of the very few knowledgeable guides in Shekhawati. He was well-prepared as we had already hovered around the Haveli earlier in the morning and had asked the caretaker about the timings. After briefing a bit about Mr Poddar, his family, and his present descendants, we were taken for a guided tour around the Haveli.

Just like the exteriors, the interiors were painted richly with stories ranging from Indian Mythology to the European lifestyle in the 19th century. Steam Engines, with European Elites; Electric Traction; even the pantograph was there - All this detailing even when the painter had actually never seen such a thing. We were told that when Sethji went to Europe for the first time, he was so overwhelmed with the English things that he wanted to have almost everything. Whatever he could have packed, he bought with him and whatever he couldn’t remain in his mind indelibly. He came back and started telling stories about the Electric Trains, the modern machines, and the European way of living. The seriousness in which the local painter grasped sethji’s description and applied his imagination to draw these alien things is really commendable.

The Haveli has a very casual architectural approach – the lower level has a strong Rajputana flavour whereas the first floor that presently houses a primary school has Victorian touches are totally unexplained and strange. All the wall murals have been redone with modern colours to recreate the old grace, as opposed to the non-interfering restorations done at Morarka Haveli. The concepts were actually totally out of phase. While the Morarka Murals have only been cleaned with no modern strokes, at Poddar Haveli, a repaint has been done on the existing murals without changing the actual designs. Having scanned all the minute details all over the Haveli, the guide took us to the Museum.

A finely carved wooden door in the first courtyard introduced us to a well arranged Rajasthani living room. This room showcases a typical marwari workplace – a sitting place on ground with mattress and bolsters, a rope meant for blowing wind pane atop hanging from the top, a few earthen artifacts, a hookah with a long smoking pipe, and murals all over the walls. The guide drew our attention to one of the murals that depicts the city of Manchester that was the hub of industrial and commercial activities in the early 20th century. On either sides of the main sitting space there are hidden stairs that lead to the side balconies, probably used to monitor the happenings. Business with traders was done in closed chambers only in the company of confidential family members. Only deaf attendants were engaged for doing the petty jobs of moving the papers or pulling the wind pane. “Deaf boys were in great demand and molten lead was poured into ears by parents to enable their wards to get a job in Sethji’s Haveli,” informed the guide. “Exaggeration,” yes! We felt the same way but without showing any difference of opinion opted to listen patiently what he had to say.

During our course of conversation, the guide threw some light on something that we never thought of. “Have you spotted any toilets in any of the Havelis in any of the Shekhawati Towns?” he asked. Well after some serious thinking, I asked then how did they manage the daily routines? The idea of having a toilet in the Haveli premises was something that the seths were not comfortable with in those days. They would walk in groups with their attendants in the wee hours of the morning with water to do away with the natural calls. The attendant would make a hole that will be duly filled in with soil after use. And the same practice applied for the ladies too. Well! It sounds very contemporary even today to those who have been to rural north India.

After spending a few minutes in the nearby museum annex displaying various musical instruments we decided to wrap up. The most interesting exhibit was an old Bush AM/ FM Radio of 1930’s. When asked, “What else should we cover in Nawalgarh? Is there any other monuments of interest in vicinity?” Mr. Guide replied, “Saab, yeh to kuch bhi naahi hai, abhi to bahut kuch baaki hai.” But we had no time and the very thought of driving back to Delhi was giving cold shivers. Keeping the fiery thoughts apart we decided to explore one more Haveli that was numero uno on the guide’s recommendations. After the final shake hand with the fantastic guide, we sailed on for the final Haveli Encounter. Wasted a good amount of time and energy to spot the same and finding nothing worth mentioning we decided to return back. After a face wash and brief packing, we had our lunch at the Bhawar Niwas Palace and kicked off our return journey towards Delhi.

This time we took a different route for better. From Nawalgarh, we drove to Sikar and from Sikar we took the State Highway through Ringas to Chomu, near Jaipur. Aninda wanted to have a stopover at Jaipur, but I decided and convinced him against the idea. Via Samode and many other less known places we touched the perfectly maintained NHAI National Highway for Delhi at Manoharpur. It was a dream ride, speedy and comfortable. We briefly stopped at Chindwaji on the Highway with a sturdy mountainous landscape all around. On our way back we stopped for a few pit stops with chai and smoke puffs. Having moved past Shahpura, Kot Putli, Bahror and Bawal, we reached Gurgaon by dusk. At Gurgaon, the traffic was thick as usual; took some petrol and straightway drove to Dwarka to drop Aninda. Aninda was impatient as always to have the pictures transferred to his PC and get the CD’s burned. Enjoyed the egg roll at Dwarka Shopping Centre; had a cup of tea at Aninda’s place and wasting no time left for Sarojini Nagar. Mom, Dad, and didi all felt relived at the very sight of my car. Ayush welcomed me with the same eagerness that he always showed on my return from office. After a refreshing bath, spend some time with Ayush and Ahana, had my dinner and after a brief chat went to bed.

While writing this travelogue what’s causing a constant mental stir is the unique Marwari ideology. What drives them? What makes them such a shrewd businessman? What is behind their willingness to leave families and move miles away to make money? What makes them flaunt their wealth in building such magnificent Havelis? And what creates the vital family bond that they have? Why Laxmi Niwas Mittal, originally from Sikar in Shekhawati has nominated his daughter as one of his board members and Aditya Mittal, his son as the Chief Financial Officer of Mittal Steel, world’s largest producer of steel? Very unique and very Shekhawati style, isn’t it?

I have tried to list out some of the famous and prominent Marwari trading, commercial, and industrial houses. Just have a look and check how many of them are you familiar with or even heard about? Aggarwal, Bajaj, Bansal, Bindal, Birla, Dalamia, Dudavewala, Garg, Goyal, Goyanaka, Gupta, Jaipuria, Jaju, Jalan, Jhunjhunuwala, Jindal, Kanodia, Kansal, Kejariwal, Khandelwal, Khemka, Khetan, Kothari, Lakhotia, Lohia, Mittal, Modi, Mohata, Murarka, Parasrampuria, Patodia, Patwa, Poddar, Ruia, Rungata, Saraf, Sekhsaria, Singhania, Somani, Taparia, Garodia, Bagaria and others. And remember this is not an exhaustive list and excludes many other houses. So, what’s the purpose of listing all these names, one may ask. This actually indicates the penetration that marwari community has in the Indian industry and, they own nearly 50 percent of it. The initial advent of Bombay and Calcutta, as major Indian trade posts led hordes of them to leave their homes and create an empire of their own, in alien atmosphere and surroundings. But, Marwaris, with a steely resolute could hardly be deterred by such minor blockades.

Looking into the history of Marwari Families, during the British days, one can hardly forget the entrepreneurship endeavors of Girdhari Das Birla against the immensely influential Scottish lobby of Jute Mill owners. After a few years of Jute trading, G D Birla, thought of starting his own Jute mill, but he had no ideas about the possible roadblocks that an Indian would be up to in starting an industrial enterprise in his own motherland. Even when he bravely managed the issues of finding a suitable land, imported machinery, and some skilled workmen, his output, was still behind desired calculated values. He decided to pack off his manufacturing business and return to trade. After a patient wait outside the office of Andrew Yule, one of the leading jute agencies of Bengal, for a sell-off deal, he was showered with words of insult towards the whole race. G D Birla took it very seriously, and the rest is history. Today, how many of us know about Andrew Yule, but there’s hardly any Indian today who has not visited any Birla temple, compassionately build over the years, all over India, by the Birlas.

Today, with the changing world, with a shift towards knowledge, the Marwaris have also changed. Aditya Birla, a MIT graduate, has expanded his business in as many as 12 countries. “License Raj” and “Liberalization” could easily be identified as the reasons for these overseas ventures. Laxmi Niwas Mittal, head of Mittal Steel, recently acquired the Luxembourg based Arcelor much against the will of EU members. The Indian businessman has become global, and raring to expand to any corner of the globe. Shekhawati, their native land, has lost its glory; its people; and what remains today are vacant ghost towns with some of their finest frescoed Havelis with an un-paralleled rustic charm.