Pixelated Memories: Fortress

Showing posts with label Fortress. Show all posts

August 18, 2015

Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan and Bijay Mandal, Delhi

“Few maps of modern Delhi bother to mark Begampur. It lies engulfed amid the new colonies that have recently sprung up along the way to Mehrauli, a small enclave of mud-walled, flat-roofed village life besieged by a ring of high-rise apartments. The smart metalled road which links the new colonies in Aurobindo Marg gives out a few hundred feet before you got to the village. Bouncing along the rubble track, you arrive in the midst of a dust storm of your own creation.”

– William Dalrymple, “The City of Djinns”

Sultan Alauddin Khilji (reign AD 1296-1316) was one of the most formidable Emperors of the city of Delhi – an ambitious ruler, fierce general, ruthless administrator, efficient dispenser of justice, master of diplomacy and a pronounced agnostic with a taste for fine sculptural arts and captivating architecture – his mighty armies stemmed the flow of Central Asian Mongol invader-plunderers and themselves ravaged the entire Indian subcontinent from Bengal in east and Gujarat in west to Karnataka and Tamil Nadu in the south. He vigorously consolidated the mighty empire by violently crushing rebellions from nobles and smaller kingdoms throughout his vast territories, strengthened the frontiers by having constructed fearsome garrisons and military centers and eradicated robbery and criminal activities by having his subjects disdainfully beheaded for even the minutest of transgressions. The Emperors who chronologically followed him throughout the medieval history of the subcontinent strived to emulate his glorious example of administration and display of the untrammeled might of the state – and architecture, imposing and bewildering, was to be one of the most often employed means to portray the same.

Forgotten glory? - Jahanpanah - "The Refuge of the World"

The Tughlaq Sultans Muhammad Juna Khan (reign AD 1325-51) and Feroz Shah ibn Rajab (reign AD 1351-88), individually perennially endeavoring for posterity throughout their long eventful lives, decided to attempt something architecturally similar to Alauddin – so while the latter had his enormous community water tank “Hauz-i-Alai” restored and expanded into a massive, ethereally beautiful madrasa complex (Islamic seminary) that would over the years become a leading center for the study of Islamic jurisprudence, languages, mathematics, algebra and calligraphy (refer Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex), the former was even more vigorous in his undertakings – in AD 1326-27, instead of overtaking and retrofitting Alauddin’s long-abandoned fortress citadel and acknowledging it as his own, he commissioned an enormous fortification – the fourth medieval city of Delhi – that would engulf within its own being Alauddin’s capital Siri as well as several other preceding cities. The new mammoth capital, determinedly christened “Jahanpanah” (“Refuge of the World”), possessed as its centerpiece an immensely grand, thousand-pillared wooden palace that was to outrival Alauddin’s architecturally similar residence and was also to be referred to by identical nomenclature as “Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan” ("Thousand-pillared fortress"). Jahanpanah has since been obliterated off the face of Delhi, disintegrated by the vagaries of time and nature – an eventuality that it shared with Siri, the elliptical enormity that it attempted to emulate and surpass – the magnificent wooden palace has long crumbled to dust, the imposing audience halls Diwan-i-Khas and Diwan-i-Aam have disappeared in their entirety and only a couple of the more colossal of the Sultan’s edifices remain, ruined and collapsing, marooned in several of the city’s urban villages and posh colonies as run-down fortified mosques and remnants of palaces and fortresses (even a huge medieval water reservoir in one case! Refer Pixelated Memories - Satpula) – the terminology “Jahanpanah” however lives on as one of the city’s better preserved and protected forests near Jamia Hamdard College. British travel writer Jan Morris could have been summing up Jahanpanah’s present existence when she sharply described Delhi thus –

“Tombs of Emperors stand beside traffic junctions, forgotten fortresses command suburbs, the titles of lost dynasties are woven into the vernacular, if only as street names."

Fall from grace - Sultan Muhammad's personal palace

The remains of Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan can be spotted in the village of Begumpur best accessible from the nearby located Hauz Khas metro station – across the road immediately opposite gate 2 of the station, walk a couple of hundred meters down the unpaved dirt path leading into the village proper and the ruined, foliage-reclaimed walls of the palace appear in all their splendor on the right – mere skeletons of their original glory, the carcasses of the edifices rise through grass and weeds that have grown well past higher than me in certain places and pierce the village’s ragged colorful skyline in a protrusion of sheer rubble masonry and fortification redundant of all forms of artistic ornamentation and sculptural art. One can literally feel the trademark Tughlaq disdain for bewitching ornamentation and graceful plasterwork. The deep red rubble buildings, emerging from the vast patch of dry grass and foliage that twirls and unfurls with every undulation in wind, are redolent of ignorance and desolation and a ruinous, long forgotten existence that steadfastly refuses to be snuffed out. Mongooses quickly scurry around and with alarming frequency buzz tiny insects and mosquitoes probably breeding in the murky puddles around the corners where locals dump their everyday domestic waste and excreta. Several of the dry weeds rattle incoherently and hoarsely against the onslaught of the aggressive wind, prompting one to wonder whether there might be rattle snakes (or just about any kind of snakes) here.

Obliterated lavishness and destroyed grandeur

As the wind liberally drifts around, time seems to have slowed down to a near halt in this little patch of wilderness in the heart of the city. An uninterrupted hush surrounds the ruins, disturbed only occasionally by the movement of several fat, odorous cows grazing on the dry grass and the crash of another polythene bag, stuffed with vegetable wastes, plastic wrappers and in numerous cases, glass bulbs, flung across the high grilles into this ignored wilderness by the residents of the nearby box-like, equally ruined and creaky residential quarters. The heat made matters worse – Delhi's sweltering weather anyway makes one toss and turn and debate whether lying still is hotter or moving about, it worsens the tempers and makes one launch into acts of aggression on the slightest of pretexts – the dogs in this miniature “Heart of Darkness” were faced with a similar dilemma of having to decide whether to continue pretending to snooze or take turns barking and chasing me or the cows around – the cows, of course, were not be perturbed while they munched in utter abandoned tranquility, so the dogs went back to pretending to have dozed off while occasionally cocking a wary eye at me, the foolish stranger with the camera hopping around the crashed stones and devastated walls.

Glimpses of color!

Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan happens to be the city’s most perplexing monument – while it is known that it originally functioned as the idiosyncratic Sultan’s residential palace and was originally surrounded by numerous fortified gateways, beautiful audience halls and vast tree-lined gardens, historians and architectural scholars today have a hard time explaining the set of disjointed, confusing ruins that survive as the Sultan’s stronghold. The first structure visible even from a distance is the “Bijay Mandal” (“Pavilion of Triumph”), a tapering octagonal protrusion that projects from the palace’s roof and has been invariably conjectured as a military watchtower, the Sultan’s penthouse apartment, an abnormally designed defensive bastion at the junction of fortification walls and even a relic from Alauddin’s original, vertically dominant palace complex. Stepping through the mere iron gateway that now defines Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan’s peripheries, one is struck by the unrelenting onslaught of wilderness and weeds that even shroud the larger buildings and unbelievably even appear to be thriving on stone faces. Whitewashed and heralded by a few furiously fluttering green flags, in the shadow of the better conserved ruins of interconnected chambers in a corner near the gate is the modest grave of Sufi saint Sheikh Hasan Tahir who lived sometime during the reign of Sultan Sikandar Lodi (reign AD 1489-1517) and about whose existence nothing is remembered or documented in contemporaneous historical records. From here on begins the short walk over sloping land to reach the palace’s remains – it is a wonder how the locals manage to fashion an almost straight and uniformly wide pathway by incinerating a narrow strip through the grass whose selfless sacrifice marks the entire length of the path in the form of a layer of grey-speckled black that immediately comes into view against the brilliant green of the all-encompassing foliage and the merciless glare of the scorching sun.

Sufism - Seeping into even the most miserable of edifices in the city

The ruins of the Sultan’s private residential quarters, including the deep pits which one led to the treasuries and where pearls, diamonds, gold and emeralds were discovered till as late as last century, are stuffed to the seams with garbage in the form of polythene bags, plastic wrappers, beer bottles and cans, empty packs of cigarettes and rotten, foul-smelling vegetable waste and excreta from man and animal alike. The tell-tale Tughlaq roughly carved rectangular pillars stand like wasted sentinels supporting amongst themselves roofs that, if not collapsed and reduced to rubble fragments projecting in free space, are blackened by the numerous fires that have been lit under their sanctuaries for several centuries past by vandals and encroachers. The coats of sparkling white plaster that must have once covered the walls and the arches is long gone and only layers of rubble and rough-hewn stone garishly compose the ruined walls at present – there are neither exquisitely sculpted stone lattice screens nor intricate stucco patterns in plaster, consequentially neither artistic distractions nor regal grandeur or architectural harmony – the age was prohibitively ascetic, disdainful of ornamentation and elaborate artwork. In the distance, engulfed by vegetation and layers of accumulated earth, can be spotted the occasional grey-glistening fragment of stone in which were once pegged the thousand delicately gilded and painted wooden pillars that supported the colossal gorgeous palace building. Adjacent this roughly rectangular edifice is an impressive yet puzzling square structure that confoundingly possesses 12-feet thick walls and is surmounted by a strange ribbed dome thoroughly overgrown with dry grass – the purpose that this building served is not known, however most historians concede it to be a later Lodi-era (AD 1451-1526) addition to the complex. Could it have been an attached mosque or a funerary structure given that its western wall is entirely walled in and might have functioned as a “mihrab” (western wall of a mosque/religious structure indicating the direction of Mecca and faced by the faithful while offering prayers)? One can be forgiven for believing that these monuments have been long abandoned. As Sam Miller notes in his poignantly humorous journal “A Strange Kind of Paradise: India through Foreign eyes” –

“Bijay Mandal has its uses. It is frequented by drug addicts, card players, young lovers and goats – and is popular with latrine-less locals who use it as a urinal and a shithouse – but I’ve never, ever, in my half-dozen trips there seen anyone else ‘visiting’ it; not a single tourist, Indian or foreign.”

Desolate remnants from an interesting past

On the other side of this humongous entity, fragments of unconnected staircases, beginning here, terminating in another corner, following the thread through another side, lead upstairs to the unusually designed roof – entire Begumpur can be observed in detail from the Bijay Mandal and in the distance, veiled by the lines of buildings and commercial spaces, can be spotted the slender outline of the towering Qutb Minar (refer Pixelated Memories - Qutb Minar). Historians conjecture that Bijay Mandal was the “Badf Manzil” (“Wonderful Mansion”) rooftop pavilion, described in his memoirs by the 14th-century Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta, from where the Sultan would administer his colossal kingdom and appear before his supplicant subjects. The octagonal building with alternate shorter and wider edges is a culmination of essentially unaesthetic Tughlaq architecture juxtaposing militaristic, defensive battered sloping walls against fringe highlights of color introduced by the utilization of thick, minimally carved slabs of grey quartzite and red sandstone – also noteworthy is the introduction of trabeate arches composed of flat lintels stacked spanning the space over one of the doorways and proper horseshoe-shaped arches endowed with keystones on other sides. Beer bottles in their hands and potato crisps strewn around them on newspapers, half a dozen teenage youngsters, three guys and three girls, sit gossiping, giggling and cozying up in the shade afforded by the pavilion. Once the Sultan must have stood here and inspected the vast expanse of his sovereign territories, monitored his troop formations and gazed fondly at monuments from ages prior to his, including Alauddin’s massive “Hauz-i-Alai” near which once he and his father Ghiyasuddin Ghazi Malik Tughlaq (reign AD 1320-25) had stationed their combined forces to challenge the might of the armies of Khilji Dynasty (reign AD 1290-1320) assembled under the command of the usurper Khusro Khan. Noticing the near-total disappearance of his unassailable fortress and the deplorable condition of his beloved palace, his anguished soul must be wretchedly writhing in his mausoleum – of course, his miserable plight would not have been this heartrending and dark-humored ironic had the inhabitants of his kingdom at least remembered where he was interred!

Unusual! - The Sultan's penthouse pavilion

Location: Begumpur Village, Malviya Nagar
Open: All days, sunrise to sunset
Nearest Metro station: Hauz Khas
Nearest Bus stop: Laxman Public School, Hauz Khas
How to reach: From Laxman Public School/Hauz Khas Metro station Gate 2, proceed for Begumpur village immediately across the arterial Outer Ring Road/Gamal Abdel Nasser Marg. A straight track one kilometer long takes one to Begumpur Masjid past Hazar Sutan/Bijay Mandal ruins.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr
Relevant Links -
Some of the other Tughlaq-era constructions in the city -

Other monuments located in the neighborhood -

July 06, 2015

Qila Rai Pithora, Saket, Delhi

“Primordial Delhi set the pattern for violence – it has always marked the city’s existence. Small wonder that all the Delhis that were to follow faced political upheaval involving a fair amount of violence. The first recorded war for the throne of Delhi – mythological as it might be – is narrated in the Mahabharata.”

– Raza Rumi, “Delhi by heart”

For a historical entity whose near-perennial existence chronologically spans over 5,000 years and is yet far from culmination, a singular diurnal event might as well be regarded as a minor occurrence with unbelievably little chance of surviving in memory and consequences against the rapid passage of the sands of time – and yet, occasionally transpires a remarkable event, often unforeseen, that, through the repercussions that follow its manifestation, literally mutates for successive ages not only the physical landscape but also the emotional and creative wellbeing of the entity involved. With respect to Delhi’s unrelentingly fierce and unusual history, this one event can at best be summed up into one particular moment of enormously significant impact – the defeat of Maharaja Prithviraj Chauhan III’s powerful armies at the hands of the fearsome forces commanded by Sultan Muhammad Muizzuddin ibn Sam Shihabuddin Ghuri in the Second Battle of Tarain (AD 1192). The sudden military upheaval that witnessed the transformation of the powers that be of Delhi, altogether a formidable regime in terms of territorial and financial capabilities, from native Hindu to Turkish-Afghan Islamic Emperors left behind an unsurpassable legacy in terms of religious, architectural-artistic and emotional existence of the entire subcontinent and continues to pose far-reaching effects that unceasingly evade conclusion – of these, of course, the foremost being the question of the religious subdual, inexorable massacre, chronic exploitation, remorseless enslavement and cultural genocide of the Hindu population of the country at the hands of these foreigner Islamic armies and the post-independence status – religious, cultural as well as territorial – of the descendants of these ravaging Muslim invaders and the natives whom they converted to Islam over several centuries of uninterrupted reign.

As gleamed off from the epic poem “Prithviraj Raso” composed by contemporaneous bard Chand Bardai, highly embellished and often fabricated threads of mythology and bardic folklore juxtapose with cruel facts of history to constitute the life, territorial domains and exploits of Prithviraj Chauhan who presently is unambiguously regarded as one of the foremost rulers to have reigned over the subcontinent and presented an aggressive opposition to the relentless fanatical forces of pillaging-plundering Islamic invaders. He defeated, albeit not crushingly, Muhammad Ghuri and magnanimously set him free, only to be ruthlessly opposed, contemptuously defeated, barbarically imprisoned and disdainfully dragged as a captive to the vast, unpitying plains of Afghanistan the very next year by him. Of course, the decimation of the armies commanded by Maharaja Prithviraj, who was bequeathed the throne of Delhi at the age of 13 by his maternal grandfather Anangpal Tomar II (another theory is that Prithviraj defeated Anangpal around 1150-60 AD), had less to do with the military might of the enemy and more to do with his own policy of territorial aggression against his neighbors which alienated him from all the major political centers and warlords of the country, including his own father-in-law Raja Jaichand Rathore of Kannauj (in modern-day Uttar Pradesh) whom he unrepentantly humiliated by arriving uninvited at his daughter’s “Swayamvar” (where a princess chooses her husband from amongst the assembled suitors) and eloping with her.

The first Delhi

In Afghanistan, the formerly mighty king was beaten mercilessly and blinded by the soldiers of Muhammad Ghuri and dragged alongside the regal procession so he can witness the proceedings and rue his own pitiful existence – on one such ordeal, observing an archery competition, he expressed his wish to participate against a worthy opponent – Sultan Ghuri himself if he dared face him – only to be ridiculed and taken to the task. Chand Bardai (who claimed to be a captive himself in the exceedingly long train of enslaved prisoners) magnifies Maharaja Prithviraj’s feats by claiming that he killed Ghuri by shooting a “Shabadbhedi baan” whereby an archer, blind or blindfolded, estimates and targets his enemy by merely listening to his voice! He was afterwards brutally murdered by the rampaging soldiers of Sultan Muhammad and his sarcophagus in Afghanistan, located immediately adjacent the latter’s, is still abused, spat upon and stomped on by Afghan locals and warlords alike – occasional noises are made by Indian Parliamentarians and Hindu leaders to have the remains exhumed and transported back to Delhi, but, as is the case with all noise, it too fizzles out and is forgotten without much action or groundwork. The fact is of course not recorded in history and Muhammad Ghuri’s own chronicles record that Maharaja Prithviraj had attempted to flee the battlefield in the face of disgraceful defeat and captured and executed on the battlefield, though Sultan Muhammad decreed that his bloodied mortal remains be carried to Afghanistan where he be buried like a Muslim as a final humiliation heaped post-death. Sultan Muhammad himself was later assassinated by the henchmen of some local warlords.

It would come as a surprise to note that the remains of Maharaja Prithviraj’s impregnable fortress’ unassailably thick rubble walls exist merely a stone’s throw away from the perennially crowded Saket metro station-bus stop combine! Notwithstanding how impressive the ruins are, one could be forgiven to wonder why Emperors would face off for these stones and sacrifice the lives of hundreds of thousands of praiseworthy loyal men. Christened Qila Rai Pithora after Rai Pithor as Maharaja Prithviraj was often referred to as, the colossal fortress’s periphery walls, appearing like a grey-red pearl necklace, survive as a perceptibly curving thick curtain wall punctuated by enormous fortified bastions that exist as mere stubs weathered almost to the base by the unremitting forces of nature and the advance of urbanization and construction which over time prompted the inhabitants of the surrounding areas to even cart off the rubble to build new edifices. Along its sides runs a narrow tract of grass-shrouded lawn, dotted with thorny shrubbery and the occasional Indian Laburnum trees (“Amaltas”/Cassia fistula) indiscriminately showering the ground around with heartwarming golden-yellow petals, which delineates and veils it against the flow of traffic and the peering eyes that peep through the numerous residential blocks existential across the road. But tread the ground for almost a kilometer and chillum-smoking groups of youngsters give way to dreadfully silent isolation; vibrant, brilliantly colored butterflies disappear and in their place appear huge hornets and hordes of persistently buzzing, low flying mosquitoes; and the grass carpet turns into deep, mushy soil that smells of rot and dung and death by stench! The fortress walls themselves, in the beginning 2-18 feet high and 5-6 feet thick, transform into near-collapsed ruins, the glimmering grey quartzite dressing disappearing and revealing the brown-red underbelly of brick and mortar, threateningly reclaimed by foliage and thoroughly colonized by overwhelming shrubbery and vines into thick, dangerously dark and grotesquely gnarled wild hedges – the desolation is total, the stillness ear-splitting.

A touch of gold

Gazing at the ruined desolation, one cannot help reminiscing the words of Bahadur Shah “Zafar” II (reign AD 1837-57), the last Emperor of Delhi –

“Nahi haal-e-Dehli sunane ke qabil, ye qissa hai rone rulane ke qabil

Ujade luteron ne wo qasr is ke jo the dekhne aur dikhane ke qabil

Na ghar hai na dar hai raha ik Zafar hai, faqat haal-e-Dehli sunane ke qabil”

(“Not worthy of narration is the tale of Delhi. This story is for crying and wailing

Raiders have destroyed such palaces that were to be praised and described

Neither home is left nor hearth, Only Zafar remains to tell the tale of Delhi")

Location: Couple of meters from Saket Metro station on the road leading to the garden of Five Senses (Coordinates: 28°31'13.2"N 77°11'58.7"E)
Nearest Metro station: Saket (Saiyadul Ajaib exit)
Nearest Bus stop: Saket metro station
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 min
Relevant Links -
Other monuments/landmarks located in the vicinity -

Suggested reading -

February 03, 2015

Tipu Sultan's Palace and Kote Venkataramana Temple, Bangalore

"How exhilarating is the atmosphere of India!

There cannot be a better teacher than the way of life of its people.

If any foreigner comes by, he will have to ask for nothing

Because they treat him as their own,

Play an excellent host and win his heart,

And show him how to smile like a flower."

– Amir Khusro, 14th-century poet-courtier-soldier-chronicler-linguist

Unbelievably modest

Bangalore knows how to play an excellent host – within no time following my arrival, the city presented to me its treasure trove of hidden medieval monuments, beautifully somber gardens, mouthwatering gastronomic haunts, choicest and classiest of watering holes and clusters of second-hand bookshops masquerading as decrepit buildings. And then there are some monuments and heritage sites in and around the city, camouflaged to merge with their highly modernistic, often heartless, emotionless surroundings, that prove to be hauntingly evocative. Forceful enough to make one wonder what could have been, seductive enough to make one imagine their original unparalleled splendor. Unquestionably, the foremost would be Tipu Sultan's relatively unknown beautiful little summer palace tucked in the heart of the city besides a perennially-choked arterial road where swirl unending streams of vehicles and pedestrians throughout day and night, and yet very few, if any, stop by to adoringly, or even curiously, gaze at the legendary King's alluring palace and wonder how might have such a powerful and affluent Emperor lived in a building as small as this. Here's how I described Tipu Sultan (reign AD 1782-99) in an earlier article –

"An innovative genius and unparalleled military tactician who also possessed intimate knowledge of Islamic jurisprudence, shooting, horse-riding, Hindi-Urdu writing, poetry and economic systems, Badshah Fath Ali Khan Bahadur Tipu Sultan was instructed in military tactics by French officers in service of his father Nawab Hyder Ali Khan and is credited with creating the first prototype rockets which he used in wars against the annexing armies of British East India “trading” Company whom he continued to oppose and fiercely resist all his short life. Technologically advanced and financially capable, he employed several skilled European weapon makers and mercenaries, was aware of the potent warfare technologies of his time, possessed an extremely strong naval force consisting of numerous war ships and frigates and even went to the extent of suggesting an alliance based on mutual admiration with Napoleon Bonaparte who came as far as Egypt on a conquering spree to unite their forces.. Despite his superb administrative, organizational and warfare capabilities, Tipu is considered (based on unreliable, highly biased early British sources who participated in wars against him) a fanatic bigoted Muslim and an extremely harsh, iconoclast ruler who heinously ordered destruction of numerous temples and shrines and oversaw the forceful conversion or merciless execution of hundreds of non-Muslims, especially Christians, besides following a “scorched earth” policy and pitilessly ravaging and impoverishing captured territories and destroying their economies and agrarian capabilities. His admirers continue to debate that he looked after his subjects irrespective of their religion and personal beliefs, employed Hindus at almost each of the influential court post and provided religious grants and protection against brigands to several Hindu temples, some of which existed in the immediate vicinity of his palace. Yet he remains a much abhorred and very controversial personality in Indian history – a patriot who relentlessly strived against foreign colonial rule, yet himself a foreigner who ruthlessly oppressed his subjects and executed those he considered unbelievers or heretics."

(read the full post here – Pixelated Memories - Tipu Sultan Shahi Mosque, Calcutta)

Here held court "The Tiger of Mysore"

Now a mere skeleton of its erstwhile graceful magnificence and obduracy, Bangalore Fort (refer Pixelated Memories - Bangalore Fort) in those days was unbelievably expansive and accommodated within its colossal peripheries most of the city and its numerous bazaars ("pettahs") and townships. The grand wood palace's construction was initiated in AD 1781 within the fortress' circumference by the legendary Nawab Hyder Ali (reign AD 1761-82) who, as Chief Minister and Commander-in-Chief of the Wadiyar King Krishnaraja Wadiyar II (reign AD 1735-66), had appropriated for himself the territorial and militarily resources of the state of Mysore/Karnataka; his son and successor, Badshah Tipu Sultan, commissioned its expansion and ornamentation in AD 1791 and established it as one of his numerous fortified residences scattered throughout the area. Entirely conceived out of finely polished and painted teak wood except for the massive stone base on which it rests and the sides and roof, the palace is an excellent epitome of Indo-Islamic architecture wherein it invokes an infusion of rows upon rows of giant ornamental twin fluted pillars supporting in their midst delicate arches minimally fringed with cream-yellow highlights against the overall brown hue, thereby presenting an overall extravagant portrayal that is strikingly symmetrical and eye-catching. No wonder Tipu christened the fine palace "The Abode of Happiness and the Envy of Heaven"! The vibrant red of the walls, punctuated again by adornment alcoves and brown windows and doors and contrasting against the overall monotony of the muted browns and their cream-yellow highlights, provides an interesting visual and pictorial composition. The palace, though externally appearing as a small, compact, single-storied building, actually consists of two floors of which the upper one is accessible through flights of stone stairs that flank each of the sides – interestingly, the floor plan is entirely identical along the backside of the building as well, thereby rendering it not only spatially symmetrical but also laterally.

Knowledge hoard - The ground-floor museum

Presently, the ground floor has been converted into a small dimly-lit museum where are housed numerous information panels and posters, including one that depicts a majestic Tipu seated upon his considerably exorbitant jewel-embedded gold throne each of whose legs culminated into a ruby, diamond and emerald-encrusted gold finial shaped like a tiger's head – legend is that the tenacious Tipu vowed that he would never hold audience ascending the renowned throne again until he vanquished the British out of the country – a wish that was tragically never fulfilled since he was killed during the Battle of Seringapatnam/Srirangapatna (1799) following which the fabled throne was fragmented into numerous parts and sold off as spoils of war individually since the whole was regarded outrageously expensive and beyond the financial capacity of any individual buyer. The highlights of the museum remain some of Tipu's dreaded rockets and a glass-encased replica of his ferocious wooden automaton tiger whose mechanical operations produced growling sounds in association with the painful wails of the Englishman who was portrayed being tortuously mauled to death by the fearsome tiger (the original, of course, like the remaining plundered treasure, is still displayed in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London). Thoughts and history spontaneously return to haunt one – Tipu Sultan, who had earned the inspiring sobriquet "The Tiger of Mysore", his near invincibility and relentlessly fierce and fanatical mindset that was perfectly represented in the literally simple yet figuratively elaborate statement –

"I would rather live one day as a tiger than a lifetime as a sheep."

Harmony

Though the ground floor exists as a mere muddied reflection of its original ornamental glory, the polished wood on the first floor still retains most of its artistic appearance which includes highly detailed bands of minute floral motifs of several different designs running along its entire length and breadth that were crafted in such a way that they almost blend in with the color of the woodwork and would have been perceptible only on keen observance. Interesting is the absence of the stylized tiger stripe ("bubris") state motif with which Tipu adorned nearly everything under his sovereign control ranging from his soldiers' uniforms and weapons to even his father's (and later his) mausoleum!. One wonders how eminent these decorative designs would have appeared while they still retained the layers of golden-brown copper gilding. In those days, the floor underneath would have been covered with prohibitively expensive carpets and earthen lamps would have been lit in the numerous alcoves (especially given that the lack of windows and appropriate lightning does render the entire structure very dark). The regally magnificent pillared hallway on the first floor gives way to two projecting rectangular balconies on either side from where the King would have appeared to his subjects and taken up matters of day-to-day administration, jurisprudence, defense and governance. Two smaller chambers on either side of this huge hallway are believed to be the Zenana quarters where the royal ladies used to reside when the King stayed here – one again wonders if such miniscule quarters did appropriate justice to these noble ladies of such social and financial standing. The same is echoed by the Scotsman Dr. Francis Buchanan in his book "A Journey from Madras through the countries of Mysore, Cananara and Malabar" (published London, 1807) –

"The garrison (of Bangalore Fort) contained..no good building except the palace. Although this is composed of mud, it is not without some degree of magnificence. On the upper storey it contains four halls, each comprising two balconies of state for the prince, and each balcony faces a different Cutchery, or court for giving audience. No person, except a few trusty guards, were admitted into the hall with the Sultan: but at each end of the court was erected a balcony for the officers of the highest rank. The interior offices occupied a hall under the balcony of the prince. The populace were admitted into the open court, in which there were fountains for cooling the air. At each end of the halls are private apartments, small, mean and inconvenient. The public rooms are neatly painted and ornamented with false gilding."

Heritage on the verge of extinction

Following the conclusion of the Fourth Anglo-Mysore War at the Battle of Seringapatnam, the British administration converted the palace building into a secretariat. In recent times, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), Bangalore/Bengaluru Circle, has done an excellent job in conserving the palace building and restoring it as close to its original notability. The facade's impressive elegance has returned, the painstakingly intricate woodwork reflects royal opulence and the large, well-maintained and symmetrical lawns leading to the building have become an exemplar of horticulture.

Adjacent to the palace complex but presently separated from it by boundary walls stands a magnificent temple complex dedicated to the Venkateshwara form Lord Vishnu (the Hindu God of life and nourishment) and referred to as Kote Venkataramana Temple – notably, the word "Kote" translates to "fortress" in Kannada and the temple complex, constructed in the Dravidian style of sculptural architecture and commissioned by Maharaja Chikka Devaraja Wadiyar (reign AD 1673-1704) in the year 1689, had once existed within the peripheries of the gigantic Bangalore Fort and till date remains testimony to Tipu's tolerance to religions and belief systems different from his own since he allowed the temple to continue functioning within the premises of the fortress complex even after he had wrestled it from the Hindu Wadiyar Maharajas. The palace, though commissioned by orthodox Muslims, shared its courtyard with the temple since the same was in accordance with early Hindu customs where the King was considered representative of Gods on earth, a tradition that Hyder and Tipu did not mind emulating. The excellent temple's unequaled glory extends to the massive towering pyramidal gateway ("Gopuram") which itself is divided into multiple levels each of which elaborately displays a spectacular array of sculpted divine figurines and mythological personalities including Gandharvas (divine singer-dancers), Hanuman (the monkey-headed God who could fly past the sun and carry entire mountains), Narasimha (the four-armed, lion-headed incarnation of Lord Vishnu), Matasya (the fish-bodied incarnation of Lord Vishnu that played its part in saving mankind during the epic Hindu deluge) and lastly, different representations of Vishnu seated/reclining with his wives Bhudevi (the Earth Goddess) and Sri Lakshmi (the Goddess of auspiciousness, wealth and prosperity) upon the primordial seven-headed limitless serpent deity Sheshnaga.

A study in architecture - Kote Venkataramana temple gateway

Apart from the huge main shrine which too is surmounted by a similarly adorned pyramidal spire and is being painted in vibrant hues and rendered glossy finish, there are several smaller shrines too within the spell-binding complex, each painted sunlight yellow like the rest of the complex and dedicated to an individual deity as is the custom in the larger south Indian temple complexes. A huge hall, supported by pillars shaped like "Yali" (mythological half-lion, half-elephant beings possessing the body and head of a lion and the tusks and trunk of an elephant) and crowned by numerous smaller semi-circular decorative projections which are embedded with sculpted stucco depictions of several mythological deities and mythical beasts, extends adjacent the central shrine and has been fitted with chandeliers and colorful tile work floor. In a corner rests a small shrine dedicated to serpent deities, regarded as capable of granting sexual fertility and parenthood. Nearly every time I visit south Indian temples, notwithstanding how miniscule, I tend to fall in love with their quintessential sculptural art and religious patterns – they symbolize a preservation of local traditions and architectural and artistic sensibilities and are literally an antithesis to burgeoning globalization and assimilation of Victorian moral attitudes which are upon careful understanding and observation so much inferior to Indian scriptural and sculptural knowledge where mythological beasts and mythical anthropomorphic deities come to life, sexuality is explored and celebrated instead of being shied away and architecture unapologetically invokes a rococo of kaleidoscopic, multi-hued and often mind-boggling surface ornamentation. "How exhilarating is the atmosphere of India!", as Amir Khusro had said!

Dazzling - The plethora of sculptural art adorning the numerous towers and spires

Location: Near K.R. (City) Market, Kalasipalyam/Chamrajpet (Coordinates: 12°57'33.5"N 77°34'25.0"E)
How to reach: Buses are available from different parts of the city for K.R. Market, including from Majestic. Walk or take an auto/connecting bus from thereon.
Timings: Both the palace and the temple are open on all days. Palace timings: 9 am – 5 pm; Temple timings: 8 am – 12 noon and 6 pm – 8:30 pm.
Entrance fees: Indians: Rs 10; Foreigners: Rs 100
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 min
Also located nearby – Pixelated Memories - Bangalore Fort
Other palaces in Bangalore/Mysore –

Suggested reading –

October 25, 2014

Sultan Garhi, Vasant Kunj, Delhi

“This blessed building was commanded to be erected by the great Sultan, the most exalted emperor, the lord of the necks of the people, the shadow of God in the world, the bestower of safety on the believers, the heir of the kingdom of Sulaiman, the master of the seal in the kingdom of the world, the helper of the chief of the faithful, the sultan of sultans who is specially favored by the Lord of the worlds, Shamshuddin Waddin Abul Muzaffar Iltutmish the sultan, may God perpetuate his rule, as a mausoleum for the king of kings of the east Abul Fath Mahmud, may God forgive him with his indulgence and make him dwell in the center of the paradise, in the year 629.”

– Translation of the inscription carved on the entrance to Sultangarhi

As a child, Shamshuddin Iltutmish was intelligent, handsome, hardworking and displayed signs of understanding wisdom and a gifted intellect that often provoked the jealousy and a misplaced sense of inferiority in the neighborhood kids and even his own brothers. Such was the chagrin his inconsiderate and devious brothers experienced when faced with his piety and fine knowledge that they eventually decided to deprive him of paternal love and the noble upbringing his affluent family could afford and had him sold as one of the many slave boys to a merchant from Bukhara (Uzbekistan). The man, a dealer in slaves and fine merchandise, further sold the boy to Qutbuddin Aibak, the meritorious lieutenant and the foremost of slaves of Muizuddin Muhammad ibn Sam, the Sultan of Afghanistan (also otherwise known as Muhammad Ghuri), who later went on to become the Sultan of Hindustan. Following the death of his master in AD 1210 and the subsequent incompetent rule of his successor Aram Shah, Iltutmish decided to capitalize upon the disgruntled nobility and the disenchanted armed forces and with their aid ascended the enviable throne of Delhi. He who once was an undesired but forever grateful child, now ruled over the massive Indian subcontinent and wielded considerable influence as the “Sultan-i-Azam”, the great emperor; a formidable military commander and an unparalleled administrator, he boasted of fearsome fighting capabilities and a fiercely loyal backing of powerful armies and slaves; yet he remained a tender-hearted father when it came to his children upon whom he doted and lavished immense affection while attempting to fulfill all their demands and wishes as best as he could. Had he been able to foresee the future, he would have been shocked and appalled at how his progeny would butcher each other after his death, but we shall connect the various threads of Delhi’s often horrific and rotten history later in this article.

Sultan-i-Garhi - Seated in a forest

Iltutmish delegated the administration of the eastern territories of the subcontinent to his eldest and favorite son Nasiruddin Mahmud, entitled him “Malik-us-Sharq” (“Lord of the East”) and appointed him the Governor of the fertile and affluent land of Bengal (Lakhnauti). He always knew that among all his children only his daughter Razia was capable of inheriting and governing the colossal kingdom over which he reigned supreme, but he continued to groom Nasiruddin Mahmud as an efficient administrator-general and his heir-apparent. But it was not meant to be – following ill health brought about as a result of Bengal’s climate, Nasiruddin passed away in the year 1229, leaving behind him a distraught father, grieving siblings and mournful subjects. Considering himself to be a sinner and an inconsiderate creation of God, he decreed that his body should be thrown down in a dark underground cave and not subjected to a royal funeral and burial in magnificent mausoleum. The inconsolable Sultan did bury him in a cave, but this cave was especially custom-built above the ground for the purpose – thus came into existence Sultan-i-Garhi, “Emperor of the Caves”, an octagonal crypt enclosed within a miniature square fortress with massive walls and gigantic bastions (“burj”) that lend it an undeniably masculine, militaristic appearance. One of the least known major monuments in Delhi, the mausoleum, built in AD 1231-32, has the fantastic reputation of being the oldest existential monumental tomb in the city (and in the entire country since the only earlier royal mausoleum of the subcontinent – Qutbuddin Aibak’s tomb in Lahore – is in Pakistan) and it is so different from the later tombs and religious shrines that it superbly succeeds too in living visually the role of grand old monument. Seated, unarguably with an indisputable sense of conviction and steadfastness, upon a raised plinth (3 meters high) in the thoroughly vegetated southern ridge forests where thorny bushes and stunted trees compete for space with blasted rocks and infertile outcrops, the 800-year old tomb is enclosed by thick, high walls and built almost entirely out of golden-brown Delhi quartzite stone.

Up on the plinth and inside the enclosure - The octagonal crypt and the pyramid-surmounted mosque

The characteristic unyielding nature of the quartzite renders it highly unsuitable for sculptural and inscriptional purposes, thereby necessitating the use of an alternate construction material in combination with the former – in this case, the requirement is fulfilled most notably by white marble highlights which has been utilized in constructing the massive projecting entrance of the mausoleum as well as the interiors. In fact, after one does overcome the initial gasps of shock and awe at witnessing the inimitable majestic fortress-tomb rise from the ground in the middle of the unrelenting forest, it is the splendid beauty of the gigantic rectangular entrance, neatly carved into strips of straight lines ultimately culminating into graceful strips of calligraphy that renders visitors speechless. In an instance of unbelievable irony, shared sacred culture and peaceful cohabitation, the local population, both Hindu and Muslim, over the ages began considering Nasiruddin Mahmud a saint and venerate him despite his everlasting conviction of his status as an eternal sinner – the telltale signs of people visiting the tomb complex and offering prayers begin right at the entrance (they are observable in the ridge forest too in the form of rusted and poorly painted signboards indicating the direction to “Peer Baba” (“Revered Sufi saint”), as Nasiruddin is now reverentially referred to as) – climb up the high staircase and either side, near the bottom, the calligraphy characters have turned black as a consequence of regular lighting of oil lamps and incense. Continuing since decades, in a tradition unaffected by any political or religious attempts at introducing chasms between members of different religions and belief systems, and as a sign of heartwarming coexistence between these people of varying faiths and their mutual admiration and acceptance of each other, the mausoleum is especially visited by reverential locals in large numbers every Thursday when prayers are allowed and free food (“langar”) is distributed to everyone irrespective of any differences of faith, creed or gender. Newly-wed brides from the surrounding villages are also brought to the mausoleum by their relatives to seek blessings of marital happiness from the saint. The locals also regularly clean and take care of the shrine, without in any way making any modifications to the original structure – and this, the involvement of the locals, in my opinion, is possibly the best possible manner in which a monument can be conserved for future generations compared to either totally blocking the locals out or giving them such a free hand that they encroach upon the monument and its associated structures.

Stunning! - Details of the inscription carved into the entrance frame

The interiors are exceedingly straightforward – sheltered colonnades, composed of unadorned, simplistic rectangular pillars plundered from Hindu temples destroyed by Emperor Iltutmish, exist along the eastern (entrance) and western sides of the square enclosure, while the other two sides have arched windows built in the walls and looking down upon the vast spread of dense green forest and ancient sets of ruins surrounding the mausoleum (more on that later). Windows also pierce the eastern and western sides, but here the more dominant visual factor is the white marble entrance and the serene mihrab (western wall of a funerary zone/mosque indicating the direction of Mecca, to be faced by Muslims while offering prayers) composed of the same material – interestingly, if one observes carefully, the windows are arched only visually, but not architecturally – the unique corbelled arch technique has been employed here where stone blocks forming a wall are merely carved to resemble curved arches – the style originated immediately following the invasion of the Indian subcontinent by Turkish Muslim armies and the incessant insistence of the new commissioners of buildings and tombs for them to possess arched entrances and openings, a concept alien to the incorrigible native Hindu artists and sculptors who were only capable of constructing trabeates (where stone ledges of gradually increasing sizes are placed atop each other to span space). The splendid mosque/mihrab, surmounted by an enormous pyramidal roof that boasts of an intricate circular floral sculpture along its spellbinding interior side, is a bewitching artistic entity – the white marble has been dexterously and immensely patiently sculpted into detailed bands of floral and geometric motifs and Quranic calligraphy inscriptions. The fluted pillars, supporting the immensely heavy roof on equally heavy brackets, are constructed out of equally flawless white marble for use around the mihrab, but are composed of the same luster less quartzite in the rest of the colonnaded section. Immediately next to the mihrab’s wall is a shallow concave depression hollowed in the marble floor where devotes leave sugar balls, marigold flowers and incense sticks as a mark of faith towards the sanctity of Nasiruddin Mahmud and his boon-bestowing capabilities, but the sugar balls especially attract an enormous number of big ants and flies, the result being the entire floor area is crawling with these creepy, large insects!

Exquisitely detailed - The tomb's associated funerary mosque

The corner bastions and the towering pyramidal roof rise way above the canopy of the surrounding forest and can be seen even afar from the Mehrauli- Mahipalpur road that runs on considerably higher ground skirting the forest territory. Quell the excitement to explore the octagonal crypt just a few minutes more and head to the prominent corner bastions gracing the fortress-tomb – these too possess rather ordinary, but simplistically beautiful, carved floral medallions along the undersurface of their shallow conical domes – the distinctive domes themselves are raised from corbelled stonework and are no insurmountable feats of architectural excellence, but the view from the arched windows in these corner towers is scarily fascinating – one is so high above the ground that it is spellbindingly thrilling and shuddering at the exact same moment!

At last, one heads to the crypt, raised further almost a meter above the ground (that is, the 3 meter high plinth level) in the form of an octagon faced with white marble and possessing stairs along one side leading upstairs and along another heading downstairs – part of the octagon seems to have been constructed from the remains of desecrated Hindu/Jain temples and the same is observable from the lengthy spans of exquisitely sculpted stone fragments that compose the top edges of the octagon just inside of the marble periphery and concentric with it. There isn’t any purpose to step up the stairs to reach the crypt’s roof unless one wishes to observe the numerous pigeons that flock and flutter to feed on the grains and water left for them by the devotees and the guards (yes, the premises are ticketed, though there wasn’t another visitor except me the entire day and am sure the revenues must be disappointing to an extreme degree) – pointing to the stairs that lead nowhere, some historians contend that the tomb was never completed and a dome or roof was meant to cover the octagonal crypt later, but then the obvious question is if the entire fortress-tomb could be raised in two years, why not a small domed chamber in the next few months while the Emperor was still settled in Delhi?

Spookiest tomb I have actually been to in Delhi. This photo of the crypt has been brightened to an extent - it is several shades darker in actuality.

Stepping down into the uncomfortably dark and damp cave chamber is perhaps the scariest dreadful experience I have ever encountered in my short life – supported on extremely plain, unadorned rectangular pillars is the heavy roof of the cave under which rest three graves, each of them draped in a length of light green cloth as is suitable for the sarcophagus of any saint and garlanded with marigold flowers. The largest grave, situated along the western face of the dark cave and ensconced between two of the pillars is said to be that of Nasiruddin Mahmud, though there is neither any sign of ornamentation nor recognition – the faithful have tied numerous letters, deep red threads, pieces of cloth and silver foil, in order to beseech the prince and his family to grant their wishes and fulfill their dreams (“mannat”) upon which they shall return to express their grateful respects and remove the symbolic application (“arzi”), that is the thread/cloth/letter, from the pillars. As I already confessed, I was scared witless on stepping into the deep chamber, more so since I was the only one there and it had suddenly begun to rain and howl furiously, slamming the wooden door of the crypt against the walls – I have no qualms in expressing the fact that I did not step down the last high stair but instead went back upstairs, hoping that the door wouldn’t now slam in the other direction and leave me stranded in a pool of utter darkness and dread! The tomb complex is considered haunted and very few venture here after dark – legend goes that a saint meditating here was burned alive and his ashes scattered around much before the construction of the mausoleum (though it isn’t remembered why this violent and horrifying act was perpetrated), the saint is often spotted at night as a glowing apparition flitting between the trees and traversing the tomb, especially in and around the crypt. Spooky!

My heart thumping through my chest I stepped out of the crypt and spent a considerable few moments regaining my composure before finally deciding that a sojourn up the staircase leading to the roof of the entrance is regrettably necessary if I wish to click the standard photograph that every visitor to the mausoleum clicks – the one depicting the octagonal chamber with the colonnaded pavilion and the pyramidal roof of the mihrab in the background. Here it is –

A view from upstairs. Notice the ridge forest stretch far in the background.

An extremely jovial dog, a resident of the mausoleum, ran upstairs on spotting me there and decided that he was in the mood for a brush and a jog – it was extraordinarily hard to make him run back even after playing and patting for over twenty minutes, but probably I shouldn’t have since the guard’s companions forcefully chased him out of the tomb complex and into the forest when he ventured to sit close to them. Sad.

Adjacent to the mausoleum and towards its left is a single pavilion tomb – a rather elongated, egg-like dome surmounted on pillars – but there is no grave underneath. The dome rises from an octagonal drum (base) adorned with a row of tall kanguras (leaf motif battlement-like ornamentation) and there exist sixteen pillars in total (three to each of the eight sides) arranged in an alternating fashion such that eight are carved out of quartzite slabs and the other eight are built from dressed rubble; just below the roof along some of the sides, the tomb also features remains of wide projecting, slanting eaves (“chajja”). The unique dome, so unlike the ones that surmount the corner bastions of the mausoleum, is said to have been a replacement ordered by the architect-emperor Feroz Shah Tughlaq (ruled AD 1351-88) against the original, damaged one (it is contended that the marble mihrab inside the mausoleum is also a handiwork of the formidably skilled artists and sculptors employed by Feroz, but the design patterns and inscriptions resemble those at the entrance to such an extent that they appear almost identical). Though only one exists now, there were originally two identical pavilion tombs – the first built in AD 1236 commemorated Ruknuddin Firuz Shah (ruled AD 1236) while the second raised in AD 1242 housed the remains of Muizuddin Bahram Shah (ruled AD 1240-42), the other brothers of Nasiruddin Mahmud. Their father considered them incapable of executing governmental decisions or conceiving public works and symbolic actions, therefore disregarded them when it came to governance and administration and instead decided to appoint his magnanimous daughter Razia as his successor. But soon following Iltutmish’s death (he is buried in the Qutb complex, refer Pixelated Memories - Iltutmish's Tomb), Ruknuddin, then the Governor of Badaun (Uttar Pradesh) and Lahore (Pakistan), conspired with the conniving nobility to deny Razia her claim and ascended the throne of Delhi, but as Iltutmish had projected, he proved to be a worthless ruler who spent most of his time in the company of buffoons and fiddlers and in satisfying his sexual urges. The governance was left to his ambitious mother Shah Turkan who decided to punish all the nobles and Governors who had offended her when she was just a slave handmaid – she had many of them killed, others rose in rebellion against her authority and refused to acknowledge Ruknuddin’s ascension to the throne – the final thread snapped when she had Iltutmish’s younger son Qutbuddin killed and the conspiracy to murder Razia too leaked out. The rebellious, disgruntled nobles arrested her and Ruknuddin and had them both murdered in prison. Ruknuddin was the Emperor of India for six months, seven days. It was then that, in a decision that is considered extraordinarily progressive for the age in which it was agreed upon, the Turkish nobility and armed forces accepted the ascension of Razia Sultan, Ruknuddin and Nasiruddin’s sister and the most efficient child of Sultan Shamshuddin Iltutmish, to the throne of Delhi. I have already recounted Razia’s brief reign and life here – Pixelated Memories - Razia Sultan's Grave. It is a pity that while her brothers got such magnificent mausoleums, she was constricted to remain in eternal sleep in an unmarked, unadorned sarcophagus besides the other sister Shazia. Bahram Shah, Razia’s third brother and her murderer, became Sultan after her execution but remained sovereign only in name while the real powers were appropriated by the nobility, especially the Naib-i-Mamlikat (“Commissioner”) Ikhtiyaruddin Acitigin and Wazir (“Prime Minister”) Muhazabuddin. When he began to consolidate his powers and had some of the more powerful officials executed on the pretext of ignorance and non-execution of his orders, the other nobles came together and had him murdered too. Ruknuddin’s son, Alauddin Masud Shah (ruled AD 1242-46) was placed on the throne afterwards to act the symbolic pretense of there being a sovereign.

Buffaloes for company! Who'd have thought a Sultan is buried here?!

Scattered around the mausoleum in very close vicinity to it are numerous other ruins too, most prominently residential quarters but also Tughlaq-era (AD 1320-1414) mosques. There is a small mosque immediately opposite the entrance too, just across the wide open space that separates the tomb from the forest facing it; another set of residential ruins is located further away from the tomb along the unpaved pathway leading to it from the Mehrauli-Mahipalpur road, sadly though these ruins are totally enclosed by means of walls and pointed wires in order to keep vandals/encroachments from accessing them. The other set of residential quarters, situated immediately besides the tomb and spread over a vast area but entirely enveloped by vegetation, are fascinating in terms of their historic antiquity as well as the confusing incomprehension they impart to the impartial rigidity otherwise accorded to the entire area by the militaristic mausoleum. The individualized residential units seem to indicate that several nuclear families occupied these; in certain places there are stairs too leading to upstairs apartments, these however have ceased to exist and any signs of there remains or scattered rubble have been totally obliterated by nature as if they did not even exist. Vibrantly-colored yellow, green and black butterflies flitter around while Wren’s warblers jump querulously from branch to branch even though Red-vented Bulbuls refuse to leave the secrecy of the undergrowth and only confirm their presence by intermittent chirps and quick flights in and out. Stepping through thorny bushes and interminable dense undergrowth that proves unbelievably non-negotiable at times, one has to explore the structures and their ordinary features – I was trying hard to find a pillar that bears a Sanskrit inscription commemorating the digging of a well on the occasion of a wedding in AD 1361, but could not locate it in the utterly chaotic ruins and vegetation.

Faith - Letters and threads tied by devotees beseeching the saint to grant their wishes

Behind the mausoleum and past the pavilion tomb is a immensely gigantic well – the largest I have ever seen at 7 meters diameter – dated to Tughlaq-era, the well is considered amongst the oldest in Delhi but now remains shrouded by convoluted vines threading their way in and out. Coming up near it are modern structures – a grave on a rubble platform has been recently raised to more enlarged proportions and covered with white tiles, cement pillars have already been built on each corner of the platform and are being heightened even further, possibly with the purpose of erecting a roof over the central grave and the less distinguished ones near it – am not sure what the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) people and the guard are doing, but the constructions are in complete disregard of the Monuments Act 1958 which prohibits any construction in a 300 meter radius around a monument or heritage structure. The constructions might even be a euphemism for land encroachment in the form of a religious structure and need to be restricted with an immediate effect – let’s hope the ASI takes adequate and befitting action, though they have so far failed to even acknowledge my mail (accompanied by photographs) in this regard. The tomb otherwise has been superbly maintained by the authorities, very clean and unharmed by vandals and graffiti, and I suppose they can’t either be faulted for the shrubbery overtaking the settlement ruins because it will continue to grow and turn into the thick undergrowth it was when I visited soon after every time they clip it.

This brings us to an end in the sojourn connecting the threads of essentially some of the most important and renowned Emperors and Empresses of Slave Dynasty of Delhi – another instance where numerous far flung and often relatively little known and forgotten monuments are connected to each other through strands of history and filial relationships. One has only to open one’s eyes and see all these dots connect to each other and form a vast pattern that is Delhi’s amazingly fascinating history in itself, and then even the ghastly wars and bloodthirsty massacres seem to fall in place with generous Emperors and inconsiderate military commanders. This is Delhi, the city of cities, my beloved.

Panoramic view depicting the crypt, mosque (left) and the entrance colonnade (right)

Location: Southern Ridge forest, opposite Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8 and Ryan International School, just off the Mehrauli-Mahipalpur road

Nearest Metro station: Chattarpur

Nearest Bus stop: Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8
How to reach: Buses are available from different parts of the city for Vasant Kunj and Chattarpur. If coming by metro, take a bus from the metro station to Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8 – the branching unpaved pathway leading to the ridge forest and mausoleum (rusted signboards indicate the directions to “Peer Baba”) is about a hundred meters or so prior to the bus stop on the road from Chattarpur. If unsure, ask locals for directions to “Peer Baba ki Mazaar” or “Rangpur-Malikpur pahari” (Hill ridges of Rangpur-Malikpur) since that’s how the locals identify the complex.
Entrance fees: Citizens of India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Thailand, Myanmar, Maldives and Afghanistan: Rs. 5/person; others: Rs 100/person. Free entry to children up to the age of 15 years.

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr

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