Enchanting Khajuraho*Mysterious Kalinjar*Tranquil Orchha

“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!

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

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

“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

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

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

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.