Emperor Aurangzeb's Grave, Khuldabad, Maharashtra

“I am grown very old and weak. I know not who I am or what I have been doing. I have not done well for the country or its people. My years have gone by profitless. God has been in my heart; yet my darkened eyes have not recognized His light. Every torment I have inflicted, every sin I have committed, I carry the consequence with me. Strange that I came with nothing into the world, and now go away with this stupendous caravan of sin! Alas, life is transient, and the lost moment never comes back. There is no hope for me in the future, and I know not what punishment be in store for me to suffer. Though my trust be in the mercy of God I deplore my sins. Come what will, I have launched my bark upon the waters! Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!”

– Emperor Aurangzeb’s last letter to his son Azam

In the middle of nowhere

The unchallenged reign of Emperor Aurangzeb Alamgir (AD 1658-1707) stands forth as such an unprecedented epoch in the annals of Indian history that his own life story practically mirrors the chronicle of the enormous subcontinent for 50 years. 300 years later, he unarguably remains the most despised sovereign, especially for the saffron brigade, so much so that an arterial road in the national capital was rechristened recently in an endeavor to erase his life and times.

And why shouldn’t it be so?

His deliberate reversal of his predecessors’ religious policies towards his non-Muslim and unorthodox Muslim subjects, and his fiercely bigoted discrimination in matters of religious co-existence and taxation and revenue collection remains uncontested. Not only that, he prohibited by royal decree the celebration of Holi and Diwali and the marking of Muharram.

In his famous “Benaras Firman” of AD 1659, he decreed that though no long-standing, legally authorized temple henceforth be demolished or desecrated nor the inhabitant Brahmins be disturbed or persecuted in any way, new temples should not be allowed to be constructed without permission nor should Hindu religious education be disseminated from any shrine. Several temples in Benaras, Sindh and Multan were thus destroyed and Brahmins imprisoned and punished for using them for purposes of instruction.

In AD 1665, he ordered officials in Gujarat to demolish all those shrines, including the famed Somnath temple, which the Governor had previously devastated but Hindus had had renovated or reconstructed. The beautiful stone railings of Keshav Deo temple of Mathura were dismantled the next year since the same were financed by Dara Shukoh. In AD 1669, the Governor of Orissa was obliged to destroy all Hindu shrines that fell in his dominions. Vishwanath and Gopinath temples in Benaras and Keshav Rai temple in Mathura were also totally devastated the same year and mosques raised at their sites.

The ninth Sikh spiritual preceptor Guru Tegh Bahadur and his closest associates were imprisoned, barbarically tortured and decapitated in AD 1675 for refusing to convert to Islam and protesting the anti-Hindu barbarities.

In AD 1679, over 300 temples were destroyed in Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaipur and Amber – Rajputs resisting the same were brutally slaughtered. Numerous Hindu shrines were also destroyed in Dwarka, Ayodhya and Haridwar.

Not relenting yet, a special “Daroga-i-Beldar” (“Superintendent of Laborers”) was appointed to the armies to oversee the razing to ground of all Hindu shrines encountered on the march through Deccan, Maharashtra, Golconda and Bijapur.

In an unpretentious compound

Though his disastrous religious policy is generally held responsible for the swift downfall of the empire, for the Emperor however it wasn’t merely a matter of personal caprice or earthly gains, but consideration of the Quran's orthodox interpretations which exhort every pious Muslim to exert him/herself to wage Jihad against non-Muslim countries (“Dar-ul-Harb”) to transform them into realms of faith (“Dar-ul-Islam”). To him, the religion of the great majority of his subjects was an abomination and a mischief which he fervently abhorred and considered his sovereign and personal duty before heaven to persecute and, if possible, stamp out through iconoclastic sacrilege, judicial persecution, economic repression, forced conversions and restriction of worship.

But did he ever regret his decisions and proclamations? We know not.

We do however know that until his demise at the ripe old age of 89 years, he remained distinguished for his religious dedication, personal chastity and public austerity. So much so that he willed to be interred not in Aurangabad where rests in eternal repose his beloved queen Rabia-ul-Daurani, but in nearby Khuldabad (“Abode of Eternity”) close to the hallowed mausoleums of 1,500 Sufi philosopher-dervishes including the illustrious 14th-century saints Hazrat Zainuddin Saiyyid Shirazi and Hazrat Burhanuddin Garib (disciple of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya of Delhi, refer Pixelated Memories - Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah). Not only that, he also refused to appropriate royal funds for personal expenditures, and paid the Rs 14.75 due for the minuscule space where his grave is located from the proceeds of the sale of the prayer caps he hand-stitched and had sold anonymously! Not unsurprisingly, though he also had assimilated Rs 350 from the sale of the calligraphic Qurans he copied, he forbade the use of this money for any personal purpose, simply stating that he’d be answerable to Allah if he had committed any mistakes in the copied renditions and profited from the same.

Such was the unadorned and uncovered grave's austerity that it stunned Governor-General Lord Curzon (officiated 1899-1905) so much so that he immediately requested the then Nizam of Hyderabad to have it enclosed with a delicate marble lattice screen. Vis-à-vis the monumentally magnificent mausoleums of his predecessors, the grave still retains its heartrending simplicity, unpretentiously shrouded only by a scanty layer of grass and stunted herbs like his sister Jahanara Begum’s unembellished tomb in Delhi (refer Pixelated Memories - Jahanara Begum's Tomb). That this is how the exceedingly powerful master of India’s unparalleled wealth, the man whose empire extending from Ghazni to Chittagong and from Kashmir to Karnataka yielded Rs 3 billion annually in revenues (in AD 1700!), decided to be buried is certainly bewildering!

“Though under Earth and throneless now I be, Yet, while I lived, all Earth was under me!”

– C.S. Lewis, “The Chronicles of Narnia”

In an austere grave, rests “the dervish clad in imperial purples”

Stepping through the massive whitewashed gateway and exploring the colossal courtyard of the adjoining mosque, one cannot help feel overwhelmed by the impermeable silences, the terrifying solitariness. Neither birds flutter overhead, nor do the ubiquitous palm fronds whisper their frighteningly eerie secrets. Time, ceaseless elsewhere, seems to have come to an unheralded standstill. In Delhi, the saffron brigade might be restlessly deleting the signs of the Emperor’s existence, but here he appears to have already been irretrievably forgotten! Wonder what he would have made of that!

Location: Khuldabad is located 27 kilometers (an hour by car) from Aurangabad. One can hire a private taxi for 12 hours (costs approx. Rs 1,500-2,000) and explore the nearby located fortress-citadel of Daualatabad and the rock-cut caves at Ellora as well on the same day. The highway connecting Khuldabad and Aurangabad is exceptionally well-maintained, however expect vehicular congestion and human overpopulation within Khuldabad itself.

Open: All days, sunrise to sunset

Entrance fees: Nil

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 30 min (though the whole of the Khuldabad funerary zone will take considerably more)

Suggested reading -

Mausoleums of Emperor Aurangzeb's siblings and other Mughal sovereigns -

1. Pixelated Memories - Humayun's Tomb complex, Delhi (where is interred Dara Shukoh as well)
2. Pixelated Memories - Jahanara Begum's Tomb, Delhi
3. Pixelated Memories - Moti Masjid, Delhi (where is interred Emperor Bahadur Shah “Zafar” II)

Other monuments/landmarks in Maharashtra -

1. Pixelated Memories - Pataleshwar Temple, Pune
2. Pixelated Memories - Vishrambaug Wada and Shaniwar Wada, Pune

Relevant links -

1. Aulia-e-hind.com - Tomb of Great Moghal Emperor Aurangzeb
2. Double-dolphin.blogspot.in - Aurangzeb's Tomb, Khuldabad
3. Scroll.in - Article "Was Aurangzeb the most evil ruler India has ever had?" (dated Sep 02, 2015) by Shoaib Daniyal
4. Wikipedia.org - Aurangzeb
5. Wikipedia.org - Khuldabad

Pataleshwar Temple, Pune, Maharashtra

Through many years, at great expense,
Journeying through many countries
I went to see high mountains, I went to the oceans.
Only I had not seen at my very doorstep,
The dew drop glistening, on the ear of the corn.

– Rabindranath Tagore

Among Pune’s inhabitants, only an infinitesimally tiny fraction is aware of the tremendously enthralling monuments that their beautiful city camouflages as derelict mansions, tumble-down edifices and long forgotten shrines. Overshadowed by towering Banyan and Kanak Champa trees of unimaginable antiquity, the very appropriately christened Pataleshwar Temple in fact masquerades as a colossal crater in a secluded corner of a densely-vegetated garden. It isn’t everyday that you look down a hole and find a temple peeping back! (unless if you're in Talakadu! Refer Pixelated Memories - Talakadu, Karnataka)

Dedicated to the “Pataleshwar” (“Lord of the Netherworld”) aspect of Lord Shiva, the Hindu God of death and destruction, the rock-cut shrine was commissioned some 1,200 years ago during Rashtrakuta Dynasty reign (AD 753-982) but the endeavor never came to fruition as further sculpting was rendered dangerous and eventually entirely abandoned after a fault line was discovered at the back of the sanctum. What remains is a massive underground rectangular cell, forbiddingly dark and damp, supported by thick unembellished pillars, and convincingly reminiscent of the macabre “netherworld” term in its nomenclature.

Forgotten dreams, unfinished missions

The shrine was referred to as “Bhambavade temple” during Maratha reign after the minuscule village it adjoined. The name was corrupted to “Bhamburde” by British administrators and afterwards disappeared from the annals of history as the area slowly mutated into what is now known as Shivajinagar.

Blanketed by disquieting silence, the austerity is disturbing, and a strange terror of being buried underneath the whole enormity slowly creeps in. Even light seems to be frightened of venturing within, restraining itself short of the sanctums, further deepening the foreboding darkness until every shadow ominously merges into the next. Amidst the almost impenetrable gloom, only the polished bronze Shivalinga (the universal rounded-cylinder primordial symbol of Lord Shiva) and the brilliant white marble sculptures of the trinity of Rama, Lakshman and Sita nearby seem aglow with a subdued magnificence.

Glimmer!

Stepping back outside, the most unusual aspect of the shrine is the enormous umbrella-shaped pavilion in the courtyard underneath which reclines the bull-demigod Nandi perennially adoring Lord Shiva, his master.

Contemplating the velvety, vibrant green moss on the rain-drenched rock surfaces, the glistening droplets enchantingly draping the convoluted cobwebs, and the perpetual squish and crunch of sweetly-stinking semi-rotten foliage under my feet on the ground level, I cannot help recall a Kannada verse by the renowned 12th-century scholar-social reformer Basavanna wherein he addresses his personal deity “Kudalasangama Deva” (Lord Shiva) thus –

“Maneyolage maneyodeyaniddano illavo? Hostilalli hullu hutti, maneyolage raja tumbi;

Maneyolage maneyodeyaniddano illavo? Tanuvolage husi tumbi, manadolage visaya tumbi;

Maneyolage maneyodeyanilla, Kudalasangama Deva”

“The master of the house, is he at home, or isn’t he? Grass on the threshold, dirt in the house;

The master of the house, is he at home, or isn’t he? Lies in the body, lust in the heart;

No, the master of the house is not at home, Our Lord of the Meeting Rivers”

Down the rabbit hole!

Location: Jangali Maharaj road, less than a kilometer from Shivajinagar Railway station (Coordinates: 18°31'36.9"N 73°50'59.4"E)

Open: All days, sunrise to sunset

Entrance fees: Nil

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 45 min

Suggested reading -

Other landmarks in the vicinity - Pixelated Memories - Vishrambaug Wada and Shaniwar Wada

More land-submerged temples - Pixelated Memories - Talakadu, Karnataka

Vishrambaug Wada and Shaniwar Wada, Pune, Maharashtra

For Snehal

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“I’ve watched the sun rise over mountains where no human being has ever trod and seen it go down over cities where every inch of space is filled with people, pushing and fighting each other for life. I’ve given birth. I’ve been in love. I’ve changed beyond expectation. I’ve seen people die in alleyways; seen others survive impossible odds; known happiness and darkness and grief, and the one thing I’m still sure about is that life is mystery; life is change; it’s what my mother called magic, and it’s capable of anything.”

– Joanne Harris, “Peaches for Monsieur Le Cure”

Blink-and-you-miss-it! - Vishrambaug Wada

This is not the first time I’m questioning my fidelity towards my beloved Delhi. I cannot leave her, and yet I cannot always love her either. But Pune, that subliminally resplendent green emerald encircled by towering hills, I fell in love with, and I fell in love in, sincerely and unconditionally, at first sight. Thoroughly drenched in ceaseless monsoon drizzle and enveloped in an impenetrable cloud of fascinating fragrances, delectable flavors and bedazzling sights, I excitedly tasted of the city’s multifarious offerings, never realizing what inescapable charm was it that eternally ensnared me – was it the fleeting handshake, the vividly breathtaking smile that has become imprinted on my retinas, or that simple serving of otherworldly delicious pasta for which remains unexpressed my humble, affectionate gratitude?

Traversing timelines

My fondest memory, which keeps returning to me as wisps of an enchanting half-remembered dream, is that of “Vishrambaug Wada” (literally, “Leisurely Garden-mansion”). Located on Thorale Bajirao Road immediately opposite the Bank of Maharashtra, the imaginatively embellished triple-storied wooden edifice was commissioned in AD 1807-08 by Peshwa Bajirao II (officiated AD 1796-1818) as his personal residence. Just a glimpse, and astonishingly hypnotic proves to be the subdued flamboyance of the faded red-tinted walls contrasting against the dark coffee overtones of the painstakingly chiseled wooden surfaces, the latter delectably overlaid with exquisite flower-patterned convolutions exaggeratedly slithering and throbbing, incorporating in their midst intermittent floral explosions and tiny alcoves for remarkably life-like parakeets and peacocks to roost in amidst sophisticated smatterings of vegetative arabesques and tender banana-blossom and cypress-tree motifs.

Mounting guard!

Flanked by richly sculpted, terribly vicious monkeys, the intricately detailed, massive wooden canopy (“Meghadambari”) crowning the entrance marvellously appears to be floating of its own volition, supported as it is on eye-catching ostentatious representations of eclectically conceived imaginary beings possessing the head of a dog, the body of a lion, the scales of a fish and the wings of an eagle, the entire abundantly encrusted over with sumptuous floral motifs and geometric bands. On the first floor, the two “Diwan-i-Khas” (“Halls of Royal Audience”), used individually for special state meetings and dance gatherings, have now been transformed into immense museums entitled “Punawadi te Punyanagari” delineating the history and evolution of Pune and its numerous thriving bazaars, thoroughly congested residential locations and invincible fortress-palaces. The luxuriously carved lotus-pillars and the sheer warmth and intimacy of the entire setting unfailingly prompts one to imagine the extravagant opulence of the inimitable halls when they were strewn with evocatively embroidered oriental rugs and further wreathed with magnificent chandeliers and enviable tapestries.

Imagination woven through architecture

Employed successively as a prison, a Sanskrit school, an engineering college and a municipal corporation office since its takeover by the avaricious British East India Co. following the Third Anglo-Maratha War (AD 1818), the ruinous ground floor still continues to accommodate a post office and a dejectedly rundown souvenir shop. Despite being the only royal residence of the Peshwas to have survived the vagaries of nature and the ravages of fires, the passionately ornamented palace has been wretchedly forgotten, even by those who regularly frequent the renowned Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale sweetshop across the road whose famed Bakarwadi (deep-fried spicy-sweet crispy flour rolls) compelled us to spend over an hour and a half in the queue!

Vis-à-vis Vishrambaug Wada, Shaniwar Wada (“Saturday Residence”), the heavily fortified official fortress-palace of the Peshwas, proves to be a disappointment – little else apart from the ruinous foundations of some of the edifices and the awe-inspiringly majestic “Dilli Darwaza” (“Delhi Gate”) was spared by an unexplained fire that continued unchallenged to devastate the wooden palace for a fortnight on February 27, 1828. Nonetheless, the mighty gateway's colossal buttresses and immaculate flanking bastions still continue to arouse disbelief while at the same time conveying stately illustriousness.

Shaniwar Wada - Bajirao Ballal's imposing stronghold

Commissioned in AD 1732 by Peshwa “Thorale” Bajirao Ballal I (officiated AD 1720-40), the original fortress-palace is said to have been seven-storied, though defensive and decorative additions continued to be incorporated by his numerous successors. A highly exaggerated version of the same was depicted in the recently released Bollywood flick “Bajirao Mastani”, though one can glimpse vestiges of the beautiful religious paintings that might have inspired the movie along the interiors of the massive hall surmounting the Dilli Darwaza.

Where not pockmarked by foundation remains (enveloped by wooden railings!), the entire expanse has been transformed into a charming garden complex interspersed intermittently by information plaques. The peripheries of course are dominated by the various substantial gateways including Narayana Darwaza (aka Jambhul Darwaza), Mastani Darwaza (aka Ali Bahadur Darwaza) and Ganesha Darwaza. In its celebrated heydays, the imposing fortress-palace unbelievably accommodated over a thousand inhabitants within its crenelated defenses – why the devastating fires of 1828 were not doused thus naturally begets both incredulous surprise and misgivings of mischief/incompetence.

“Nothing beside remains!”

Not surprisingly, the impressive stronghold is regarded as being haunted on every full moon night by agonizingly grief-stricken cries of “Kaka! Mala vachva” (“Save me, Uncle!”) uttered by the restlessly despondent soul of Peshwa Narayanrao (officiated AD 1772-73), the grandson of Peshwa Bajirao Ballal I, who was barbarically murdered and mutilated upon the orders of his own uncle “Raghoba” Raghunathrao (officiated as Peshwa, AD 1773-74). Spooky! And yet people would undoubtedly always only associate the engrossing citadel with the Kashibai-Bajirao-Mastani love triangle – and why not? Didn’t I too circumbulate the immense peripheries seeking the seductive fragrance of the beloved – only to run into a group of boisterously rowdy school students smoking hastily improvised joints immediately adjacent the spectacularly dominating equestrian statue ostensibly commemorating Peshwa Bajirao I but only in fact succeeding in bringing about reminiscences of Percy Shelley’s “Ozymandias”!

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Forgotten corners!

Which, all in all, of course makes me wonder if the Peshwas, two of whom so delicately embellished this spellbinding city, ever spent their hours ruminating philosophies and reminiscing memories while traversing new cities? Did they too realize, like now I do, that often in life one unknowingly embarks on certain journeys only to eventually apprehend that no matter how frantically one tries, some people, notwithstanding how dearest, one will probably never see again, and some places, notwithstanding how mesmerizing, would never be visited again.

And yet, one also realizes that memories, those ruthless pinpricks stabbing at our hearts in stolen moments of solace, would never let us forget the ones we loved so desperately, even if we wanted to. That we would never want to, of course, somehow always remains unsaid and unappreciated!

Peshwa Bajirao Ballal - The Indian Ozymandias

Location: Shaniwar Wada is located barely 2 kilometers away from Shivajinagar in the heart of the city. Vishrambaug Wada is less than 1 kilometer away on Thorale Sreemant Peshwa Bajirao Road.

Open: All days, 8 am - 5.30 pm

Entrance fees: Vishrambaug Wada: Nil; Shaniwar Wada: Indians: Rs 5, Foreigners: Rs 125

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: Vishrambaug Wada: 1 hr; Shaniwar Wada: 2 hr

Suggestion: Don't forget to purchase the mouthwatering Bakarwadi from Chitale bandhu sweetshop just across the road from Vishrambaug Wada!

Suggested reading -

1. Siddhikodre.wordpress.com - Vishrambaug Wada - Pune's best kept secret
2. Wikipedia.org - Peshwa Bajirao I
3. Wikipedia.org - Peshwa Bajirao II