Traveling is good
Despite the continuous building and breaking, the Bada Imambada turned out to be magnificient. It rivalled the Moghul architecture. No iron or cement has been used in the building. The imambada boasts of one of the largest arched structure with no supporting beams. Under this vaulted chamber lies the simple grave of the Nawab.The grave of the architect also lies in the main hall. Asafuddaulah was truly generous and class blind.
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As you enter the fort, you are greeted by this tall minar – Chand Minar. It used to be covered with Persian glazed tiles. Now they have whitewashed it in faded orange colour. You want to strangle the person who ordered this colour. The minar was built by Ahmed Shah II to celebrate the capture of the fort. To approach from the front one has to go through three bastions of fortified walls.
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Two centuries ago when the Nawabs were driving around in their horse drawn buggies they would give way of right to the horse drawn buggy of the fellow Nawab, both on their way to Hazratganj for shopping. This was perfectly normal in the true spirit of Pehle Aap (after you) culture of Lucknow. After all, that was the era of leisure, languidness and laid back, aptly depicted in Satyajit Ray’s ‘Shatranj ke Khiladi’.
Times have definitely changed now. Goons – elected or otherwise – sitting in their Endeavours, with number plates emblazoned with their self-christened designations, pressure horns on full blast, bulldoze their way through the crowded streets. Of course the number plates do not carry registration numbers and the horn has to sound the loudest. Few moments caught in this decibelly deafening din will bring in the worst headache and probably convulsions. Guantanamo Bay authorities could play this cacophonic recording and the Al-Qaeda inmates would start singing like canaries instead of paying royalties to music companies for playing their metal rock.
You are startled and jump off the street when you hear a truck horn, only to see a motorcycle whizz past you. In Punjab, your vehicle needs to be shod with the flashiest alloys. In Lucknow, people get turned on by going sadistic on your ears. It is auditory mayhem on the roads.
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Nahargarh Fort is perched on a hill overlooking the city of Jaipur. Best time to go there is early in the morning. It is a pleasant half hour drive from downtown city. There is a lush forest on both sides of the winding road. Drive slow to take in the greenery and sounds of the forest. People can be seen jogging and cycling. Birds chirp and peacocks give out their shrill cries when they see you approaching.
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My favourite travel author Paul Theroux says in the opening paragraph of ‘The Great Railway Bazaar’ – the best travel book ever written – “I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on itâ€. One simple sentence summarizes the entire romance and mysticism around the trains. It conjures up the sights and sounds of unknown exotic destinations. It is as if you don’t care where the train goes; you only want to be someplace that is far and not seen before. Someplace where people look different, language you can’t understand but sounds musical; and food is an adventure everytime.
Meanwhile, the train chugs along several stations. It is the perfect weather to buy chikki in Lonavala and feast on hot vada paos. The taste brings back memories from the past. It seems as if the chikki and vada tastes have been standardized like McDonalds. You remember the taste from times long gone when you took the Madgaon Express from CST to Goa every month on the Konkan Railway Line.
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Most of the forts you visited were predictable. But this fort has a surprise waiting at every gateway corner and beyond every wall. It is like being rewarded for your huffing and puffing at every level of this Wii game. You feel like a child bounding up every which way. There are water storage tanks with elaborate planning for rain harvesting, granaries, oil pits, natural sources of clean cold water and temples.
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The Madrasa is the best known example of Bahmani (Persian) Architecture and is one of its kinds in India. The building functioned like a residential University. It is a rectangular three storey structure that consisted of a mosque, lecture halls, professor quarters and student cubicles. The walls were covered with blue, green, golden and white glazed Persian tiles. In its heydays, the madrasa would have looked pretty spectacular with the sun glinting off the majolica work; the minars soaring into the sky reflecting the aspiration of the founder and the students. The architecture provided the perfect setting for intellectual brainstorming and discussions. The scene of harried professors and students scurrying between classes would be similar to being played out at Feroz Shah Tughlaq’s madrasa at Hauz Khas Village in Delhi – unless all inmates fled during Taimur’s plunder of Delhi.
Today, the madrasa is much in ruins. In 1656 Aurangzeb occupied the building (Bidar Sultanate was gone by 1619) and turned it into an army barrack. Aurangzeb believed in occupation and razing rather than building. Rooms in the south-east were used to store gun powder. Since Aurangzeb was not fond of smokers, somebody hid in the corner stealing a few puffs, when reportedly an explosion blew up along with the unwitting arsonist, portions of the south and east walls with the eastern entrance gate. Out of the supposedly two minars, only one 100 feet tall minar on the north east corner survives. The biggest surprise is that the two balconies of the minar project from the structure rather than being supported by brackets. The minar has vibrant colourful patchwork of zigzag motifs. Facing the central courtyard are the reading halls with open arched doorways rising to three storeys creating huge iwans, which in turn are surmounted with domes. The minar, iwans, domes and glazed tiles complete the Persian Architecture.
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Rahim says; Do not break the thread of love between people. If the
thread breaks, it cannot be mended; even if you mend it there will
always be a knot in it. The friendship will not be same anymore.
Now, that sure brought an instant childhood connection with Rahim and a smile to the face.
Abdul Rahim Khan was the son of Bairam Khan. History is amazing – how can a son of a Mughal general infamous for atrocities could turn out to be composer and poet.
Legend has it that Alauddin beheaded 8000 Mongols living in the settlement now called Mongolpuri and built the foundation of his City on these heads. Thus the first Muslim city of Delhi was built in 1303 and called Siri (‘Sir’ is Hindi for head) as a homage to all the severed heads. In fact, Khilji chased the Mongols and pushed them north of Kabul that ensured the Mongols would not attack India again for some time.
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And then Morena springs the third association – unknown and full of surprises. A friend has just stumbled upon the most incredible circuit of obscure temples, 25 km deep inside Morena; of course by walking in the glorious tradition of baghis of yore. The opportunity to see the temples soon presents itself and you grab it; of course a city slicker like you will need a four wheel ride.
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Sitting in a restaurant on the Mall Road, you feel happy. The early December air is nippy, fresh and clear. There are few tourists this time of the year. Sun rays reflect off the dark green water of the lake creating silvery ripples. Wisps of clouds float in the incredibly blue sky. Such blue skies are seen over Delhi for maybe two days a year. You have chosen to sit in the open sided area. The sun is soothing. You are almost in a trance. It seems life has receded leaving you in a glowing fuzzy ball of warmth. And then you see the tree.
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