Pixelated Memories: Muhammad Tughlaq

Showing posts with label Muhammad Tughlaq. 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 -

June 04, 2015

Satpula, Malviya Nagar, Delhi

“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.”

– Traditional saying

As mentioned in several of the preceding articles on this blog, the Tughlaq Dynasty (reign AD 1320-98) rulers were some of the most prolific builder-architects that the city ever witnessed in its several millennia long history and left behind tell-tale signs of their prodigious existence in the form of massive fortress-citadels, colossal mosques, fortified tomb complexes, unusually beautiful Islamic seminaries, huge hunting palaces, inspiring pleasure pavilions and majestic waterworks. Of the last, built to counter the city’s perennial water shortage, the foremost example would be the nearly forgotten Satpula (“Seven-arched bridge”) sited near South Delhi’s Khirki Village which, despite the Government’s best efforts and the Archaeological Survey of India’s (ASI) repeated interventions at conservation and restoration, presently finds itself in an ominous predilection in that it has long ceased to exist in the popular imagination of heritage enthusiasts and history-philes and has become a popular haunt for alcoholics, marijuana-addicts and paint-wielding vandals who are attracted to it with the same propensity as moths to a flame. The colossal megastructure, not unlike other Tughlaq-era buildings that bear their penchant for structural enormity, defensive capabilities and an emphasis on functional characteristics, was conceived in AD 1340-43 by Sultan Muhammad Juna Tughlaq (reign AD 1325-51) as a gigantic three-tiered weir bridge designed to control stream flow characteristics of a rainwater-fed water channel draining into the mighty river Yamuna in order to bring extensive neighboring areas under the scope of agriculture and irrigation to sustain the local population. The remarkable rubble masonry structure’s prominent location at the protruding south-eastern corner of the enclosing walls of “Jahanpanah” (“Refuge of the World”), the Sultan’s cherished capital, rendered it ideal for transformation into a buttressed defensive structure.

Glorious ruins

Along one of its unusually desolate, nearly ruined longer sides of which a crescent-shaped portion has long collapsed, the weir bridge consists of seven arched, chamber-like openings on the lowest level and two additional similar openings on each flank built on successively perceptibly higher levels. These are surmounted by a decrepit second-level which is composed of a row of arched chambers flanked in the corners by extremely constricted staircases leading within the structure to the confines of the lower chambers. Lastly, the two corners are crowned with forsaken identical octagonal corner towers which, besides functioning in a strictly protective militarily capacity (thus the ubiquitous presence of tall narrow arrow-hole slits), also doubled into “madrasas” (Islamic seminaries disseminating knowledge of religious scriptures, jurisprudence and mathematics) during peace time and are intermittently simplistically ornamented with floral medallions and bands of graceful geometric plasterwork patterns. On the other side runs the smooth, finely finished wall punctuated by eleven thick diamond-shaped projecting buttresses which supported the sections where originally fitted the wooden sliding sluice gates (since disintegrated and disappeared) which could be vertically raised/lowered through the assistance of ropes in order to alter the flow, however the actual mechanism for the working of the bridge cannot be understood as a consequence of extensive damage suffered by the lower levels and the application of cement on the higher ones as integral to past conservation/restoration efforts.

Medieval water management

The ASI recently restored the unticketed monument as part of a Commonwealth Games 2010 prompted conservation drive focused on Khirki Village whereby the entire existential expanse of the monument was re-strengthened and revealed by removing soil and debris accumulation from around it and the huge open space around landscaped into a tree-lined, grass-shrouded lawn equipped with low-lying open-air auditoriums and viewing pavilions from where the massive immensity that the bridge is can be more readily appreciated. The substantial space underlying the structure continues to be utilized as a cricket ground by local teenagers while alcoholics can be seen even early morning sitting, gossiping and sharing a few pegs within the larger ruined chambers. The complete picture at present is that of ignorant isolation, heartbreaking miserableness and mediocre historicity with little visual composition to attract one’s attention to – but besides the emphasis on medieval engineering and water management techniques, the fascination with the structure’s heritage also stems from folklore that states that the renowned Sufi saints Hazrat Nasiruddin Mahmud “Roshan Chirag-e-Dilli” (“Lamp of Delhi”) and Sheikh Yusuf Qattal (both of them buried in the immediate vicinity) used to perform their daily ritualistic ablutions (“wazu”) in the weir’s waters and the same has since been considered spiritually blessed and possessing medicinal healing properties (refer Pixelated Memories - Sheikh Yusuf Qattal's Tomb for a note on the latter’s life). Strangely enough, I couldn’t spot even a single drop of water, healing or otherwise, on either side of the bone-dry reservoir. And yet the board outside the complex comprising of meandering pathways and unutilized pavilions refers to it as “Satpula Lake District Park”! So much for our cultural, architectural and natural resources.

And not a drop to drink!

Location: Near Select Citywalk Mall, Press Enclave Road, Malviya Nagar (Coordinates: 28.531676, 77.223503)
Open: All days, sunrise to sunset
Entrance fees: Nil
Nearest Metro station: Malviya Nagar
Nearest Bus stop: Saket District Court/Khirki Village
How to reach: Walk/avail a shared auto (Rs 10/passenger) from the metro station to Select Citywalk Mall. The monument is located approximately 500 meters from the Mall on Press Enclave Road that runs immediately opposite the latter. Though most of the bridge cannot be viewed from the road as a consequence of the makeshift shanties and hutments impeding the view, the location is prominently marked "Satpula Lake District Park".
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 minutes
Other monuments located in the immediate vicinity –

Other Tughlaq-era monuments in the city –

Suggested reading –

May 13, 2015

Begumpur Masjid, Delhi

“A doom-laden place, implacable in its hostility, foreboding, menacing, redolent of death.”

– Alistair Maclean, “Caravan to Vaccares”

The colossal, long abandoned Begumpur Masjid, lying miserably neglected and uncared for in the urban village (an oxymoron of course, but Begumpur cannot possibly be described otherwise!) that lends its name to it, can undeniably be cited as a prominent example of Tughlaq-era’s (AD 1320-98) fortified architecture which inherently favored functional characteristics, including defensive capabilities and fortress-like features, over artistic aesthetics in religious, royal and even funerary structures. Of course, the Tughlaqs were more concerned with commissioning defensive structures which could offer additional protection against pillaging hordes of Mongol invaders from Central Asia, and thus their preferred choice of construction material, the grey Delhi quartzite stone, on account of being extremely capable of withstanding repetitive blows, rendered the same possible but was definitely not an ideal choice for sculptural artwork.

180° panoramic view of Begumpur mosque depicting the primary (eastern) gateway (right) and the thickset pishtaq (left)

The medieval mosque, primarily inspired by Uzbek influence, is exceedingly massive, the second largest in the city after Shahjahan’s graceful Jama Masjid (refer Pixelated Memories - Jama Masjid), and possesses a huge domed gateway, accessible via large ziggurat-like staircases, along the center of each of its northern, southern and eastern sides. Considerably blackened at present owing to the decay of organic materials such as lentils and jaggery that were employed, in accompaniment to plaster, as an external coating for the structure to enable it to easily withstand extreme weather conditions, the gateways and the walls retain occasional remnants of minimal sober ornamentation such as floral medallions conceived of red sandstone and painted blue plasterwork. There are two equally plausible theories under contention amongst historians regarding the construction of the epic mosque. The first states that it was commissioned by Muhammad Juna Tughlaq (reign AD 1325-51) as the “Jami Masjid” (royal congregational mosque) contiguous with his unusual thousand-pillared palace complex “Hazar Sutan” located couple of hundred meters away – this finds collaboration from the fact that the mosque also possesses, adjoining a corner, a distinct smaller square “Mallu Khana” (zenana mosque) that would have been used by the royal ladies for personal private prayers and would have been connected via a passageway to the palace complex so that the ladies could come and go as they pleased without being spotted by outsiders (its outline although can unquestionably be determined from outside where, unlike the rest of the mosque, this spatial square projection displays “jali” (stone filigree screens) set into the wall openings). The second theory, more widely accepted by scholars on account of there being an absence of literary records of the mosque chronicled by Muhammad Tughlaq's contemporaneous historic sources, approximately dates its construction to AD 1375 and credits it to Khan-i-Jahan Juna Shah Telengani, the Wazir (Prime Minister) of Feroz Shah Tughlaq (reign AD 1351-88), who also built several other considerably enormous mosques in Delhi’s then settlement conglomerations, including the interesting Khirki Masjid which I documented here – Pixelated Memories - Khirki Masjid.

Grandeur personified - One of the gateways of the colossal mosque

Incidentally, given that the mosques are built as miniature fortresses, the local population of the surrounding settlements moved into them in AD 1739 to escape rape and execution when the ruthless Iranian Sultan Nadir Shah overran and plundered the city subsequent to the gradual weakening of the Mughal dynasty (reign AD 1526-1857) following court intrigues, filial rivalries, administrative and territorial blunders and power struggles. Afterwards, the people (and their cattle, poultry and donkeys!) never moved out but built living quarters, complete with kitchens and toilets, within the mosques themselves! The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), soon after it was constituted, managed in 1921 to convince the occupants to move out and establish villages around the heritage structures but already extensive damage, including miserable blackening of walls and ceilings by soot residues deposited from fires, had been heaped. But the story did not end here – centuries later, many of the desperate refugee families from Pakistan who reached Delhi following the horrendous partition of the subcontinent in 1947 amicably resettled in the mosque and continued to live there till as late as a few years back!

A different perspective - The mosque, as spotted from one of the neighborhood buildings

Irrespective of how many times one has read about the mosque or spotted its photographs (which anyway prove to be incapable of conveying the grand magnitude or subdued magnificence of the monument), nothing prepares one for the first visual onslaught that its majestic proportions prove to be as soon as one steps within the gateway – one can never be accused of resorting to hyperbole in stating that the words “gigantic”, “enormous” and “immense” quite simply fail to convey the sense of grandeur under consideration here. The mammoth expanse of the “sehan”, the cobbled stone courtyard (91 X 93 square meters!), further accentuates the distant tapering gateways and the domed passageways that the sides culminate into and outlines the vertical protrusion of the lofty “pishtaq”, the towering structure that serves as an entrance to the mihrab (western wall of a mosque that indicates the direction of Mecca and is faced by the faithful while offering Namaz) and is flanked by two huge tapering pillars that frame it in a fairly masculine and well-proportioned manner. While the skyline is totally dominated by the humongous off-white pishtaq and the gateways, the numerous smaller domes punctuate the otherwise overall uninspiring monotony of the straight lines of the colonnades.

Dominating - The mosque, hemmed in by ramshackle multi-floor apartment buildings

The inner surface of each dome would have originally blossomed into a colorful flourish of floral medallion from whose center would have hung lamps but only traces of the erstwhile decoration survive now underneath a few of the domes; most of the simplistic rectangular stone pillars too have now been carved with names, love letters and uniformly distasteful etchings by vandals and local children who presently utilize the humongous courtyard and the passageways respectively as a cricket pitch and a hangout zone for gossiping, playing cards and alcohol parties. Of all the colonnades, the spellbindingly symmetrical western one, triple-rowed and composed of a line of double pillars facing the courtyard side and two lines of single pillars behind in contrast with the rest of the colonnades which are single-rowed, leads to the mihrabs of which the central is minimally ornamented with just a touch, not very distinguished or striking but not unnoticed either in the otherwise continuous regularity, of red sandstone and white marble, very meticulously but simplistically sculpted. The overall artistic austerity, in addition to the unpunctuated silence and measured intimidating aloofness, multiplies manifolds the bewildering influence endowed to the structure by its gargantuan proportions. One literally feels dwarfed, inconsequential and even slightly scared and disoriented in the face of such unparalleled enormity.

Grace and symmetry - The western colonnade

Helical staircases built into the flanking tapering pillars of the pishtaq lead first to the upper floor where one can walk into a claustrophobia-inducing extremely narrow passageway and witness, quite nerve-rackingly in deed, the courtyard’s immensity, unyielding cobblestone surface and the building’s vertical projection, necessarily in that particular order followed immediately by navigation for asylum back to the staircase’s little safety and later by an obdurate desire to climb even further and check the view from the very roof of the structure – thankfully, the latter is promising and renders the terrifying climb this high worth – besides the village’s chessboard skyline of box-like multicolored buildings occasionally interrupted by a few trees, there is Qutb Minar majestically looming like a beacon in the far distance (refer Pixelated Memories - Qutb Minar) and Muhammad Tughlaq’s “Hazar Sutan” nearby (more on that on a later date). Some of the alcoves and the area around the staircases leading to the gateways and within the courtyard are littered with stone slabs, rubble, plaster and other material to be utilized for the structure’s restoration-conservation, which it undoubtedly direly requires, but except for a few dogs snoozing around and a few locals drinking beer and playing cards in the colonnades, there is not a soul in sight, no laborers at least. Wonder when the restoration begins, if it does at all.

Precious remnants

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
Some of the other Tughlaq-era constructions in the city -

Suggested reading -

April 21, 2012

Tughlaqabad - Adilabad - Nai-ka-Kot Fortress Complex, New Delhi

Tughlaqabad Fort holds special significance for me since I visited the place with a very good friend, someone I had a crush on then & liked to spend time with. Moreover, it was the trip to Tughlaqabad that made me search for beauty in even the most monotonous of things – it’s amazing how stones & rocks stacked together can look so striking. The fortress’ repute as a secluded lover’s point along with its share of stories & myths about megalomaniac Sultans, conniving princes & sorcerer saints further adds to its charm. There’s not an iota of doubt that a history-buff & a sticker for stories & legends cannot resist falling in love with this magnificent fortress!

Let’s start this post with the very interesting story behind the foundation of this fortress –Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq (ruled AD 1320-25), the builder of this mighty fortress-city started out as a trooper in the powerful army of Sultan Ala-ud-din Khilji (ruled AD 1296-1316). By the dint of his combined qualities of hardwork, determination & humility, Ghiyas-ud-din rose from strength to strength & was finally assigned the governorship of Dipalpur & the position of “Warden of Marches” of the Sultan’s combined armies (Ala-ud-din possessed one of the largest armies in the world at that time – his forces were efficient & combined staggering quickness with amazing ruthlessness). The son of a Hindu lady & a Turkish slave, Ghiyas-ud-din was soon leading campaigns on behalf of the Sultan to Ghazni, Qandhar & Kabul to punish the Mongols for their incessant raids – unable to defend their territories against the lethalness of Ghiyas-ud-din, the Mongols retreated in his face, opening way for plunder & levy of tributes. Ghiyas-ud-din became one of the foremost generals of Ala-ud-din’s armies, a position he retained during the reign of Sultan Qutb-ud-din Mubarak Shah (ruled AD 1316-20), Ala-ud-din’s son & successor. One day, while on a sojourn of Delhi, Mubarak & Ghiyas-ud-din were passing through the area where Tughlaqabad fortress stands today – impressed by the rocky prominence that imparted natural defense to this area, Ghiyas-ud-din suggested to the Sultan that the site was ideal for the construction of a new fortress. The Khilji sultan laughed at his governor and suggested that the latter build his citadel there when he became a sultan.

The massive fortress of Tughlaqabad

All respect for the crown disappeared under Mubarak’s weak reign – he would keep company of women & fools, run naked in the court, indulge in drinking bouts with the commoners – his own cousins & relatives revolted against him, so did his governors & nobles. He raised a shepherd named Hasan to the position of prime minister – ungrateful & treacherous, Hasan disposed & murdered the Sultan who had always favored him & sat on the throne of Delhi with the title of Nasir-ud-din Khusro Shah. Ghiyas-ud-din was opposed to Hasan’s ascension to Delhi’s throne on account of his belief in the supremacy of Turkish Muslims over Indians & the latter’s being a convert from Hinduism – he marched against Delhi with his army combined with those of his son Muhammad Juna Khan, defeated & executed Hasan & proclaimed himself the Sultan of Delhi under the title of Ghazi (“slayer of enemies”). The first order that Ghiyas-ud-din Ghazi Malik Tughlaq, founder of the Tughlaq Dynasty, issued as Sultan of India in 1321 AD was to commission the construction of his fortress at Tughlaqabad – thus came into being Delhi’s most colossal fortress, a citadel that looks supreme even in its present ruined state.

Stretching over 6.5 kilometers in circumference, the fortress is the largest in Delhi – before I started documenting Delhi’s architectural heritage, it was this vast fortress that I would gape at while travelling at the Mehrauli-Badarpur road (aka M.B. road aka Surajkund road) – this is another reason why this fortress is so close to my heart – admiring its massiveness was what cultivated a love for all things monumental in my adolescent mind.

Same fortress, another view

Its saddening that this fort is almost totally ignored by tourists who prefer to flock to the more magnificent Red Fort complex or the more stupefying Qutb complex – given the neglect this fortress faces from locals, tourists & authorities alike, I wasn’t expecting a ticket counter at its premises, but it was right there along with a detachment of several policemen .The fortress stands guard like a sentinel, towering above the children playing cricket in a clearing beside it, the puny ticket counter & the steady stream of traffic passing around it. It took us a long time to reach the fort complex, partly because this was my first time this way, secondly the auto drivers (intent on fleecing us!!) got us confused with the directions when we were standing next to the flyover (and its associated curving roads) at Tughlaqabad metro station – one has to simply take a bus plying along the M.B. Road & it would take you past Batra Hospital, Jamia Hamdard college & Vayusenabad air force quarters to drop you opposite the fortress’ ticket counter. From this point, the fortress looks incredibly imposing – humongous ramparts, huge battlements, curving bastions and mammoth stonework speak of the building might & architectural prowess of Ghiyas-ud-din’s engineers. What is more astounding is that the entire construction process was completed in a mere 4 years (AD 1321-25) – Ghiyas-ud-din definitely knew how to tame his vast workforce of architects, engineers & artists & draw the most effort from them (& here we thought modern-day MNCs make their workers sweat!). Even the staircase with its wide steps leading to the entrance set within the gigantic bastion seems huge. But once you step through the gateway, the picture is quite different – thorny bushes rising from every spot conceivable, ruined structures thrown desolately everyway and buildings overtaken by bushes speak of the gross neglect the fortress faces – till sometime back there was an entire village settlement living inside the fortress, now it would be hours before you spot a single soul who isn’t an Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) guard. Ruined buildings, towering walls extending as far as one could see, wide staircases ending in limbo & tumble-down bastions can be seen in almost every direction along with huge craters where archaeological excavations were conducted in the past. Heaps of rubble from fallen towers & bastions remains strewn around, speaking of the destruction & desolation of this vast fortress that betrays a Sultan’s ambition & capability.

Ever imagined even rubble could be so colorful??

Making our way towards the imposing curtain walls first, we decided to step onto the walkways that lined the sides of these walls – it was definitely a scary experience, most of these walls are 15 meters high & in sharp contrast to his megalomaniac tendencies, Ghiyas-ud-din decided to keep the walkways narrow – a fall down would be a definite way to meet the fortress’ inceptor in person!! Some of the large sandstone blocks (quarried locally) that layered the rubble wall face still remain projecting outwards & one can pull oneself up these square ledges with ease & look at the continuous traffic encircling the fortress – Ghiyas-ud-din’s soldiers would have appreciated even these hard seats, they had to stand on duty all day here looking over the artificial lake that existed next to the fortress back then, the little islands in the middle of the lake & the territory beyond. From several vantage points along these walkways you can even spot Ghiyas-ud-din’s red tomb & the bastions around it (more on that later) across the road. Visible at several points are broken walls, crumbling chambers, arched gateways fit for giants (both true & trabeate arches can be seen here, often in combination complementing each other) – most of the structures here are simplistic in nature & unadorned – true to Tughlaq aesthetics, these were built for function rather than form. One can see the slits in the bastion walls that allowed archers to shoot through to counter an enemy attack. The monotony of the glowing red & orange rubble ruins is broken only by the monotonous grey quartzite bastion walls – Timur, when he invaded India in 1398 AD & decimated the last of the Tughlaqs, noted in his journal that the fortress walls glittered as if they were made of solid gold – in all probability he saw the fortress in scorching summers; we, on the other hand, visited the place on chilly Christmas morning when the stones took on multi-colored hues & the bastions appeared as cold as they felt to the touch – there was blue everywhere, no gold, very little green & an all-encompassing blanket of fog that made the winter even melancholy.

Third view

Enormous blocks of stone were used to build the stronghold’s colossal bastions (some of which are as high as 15-30 meters) and walls (10 meters thick in places) – it does not look as if this fortress is a handiwork of mere mortals. Situated on a high, rocky ground that acted as a natural vantage against enemy hordes, the fortress’ massive walls seem to be reaching out to the sky with their battlement fingers – these walls are not the type that an invading army would hope to scale in a hurry. The fortress was an ideal defensive structure & encapsulated within its octagonal periphery both Ghiyas-ud-din’s royal palace & some of the local population – part of Delhi’s population continued to live in older fortresses such as Siri & villages like Ghiyaspur (modern-day Nizamuddin area) even after Ghiyas-ud-din shifted with his court & retinue to this imposing citadel. The double-storied bastions & gigantic towers were built to scare away marauders, especially Mongols, whom Ghiyas-ud-din defeated several times & wished to protect his subjects from. Except for the side adjacent to the lake, all other sides of the fortress featured deep trenches along their outer face; the fortress also boasts of huge grain silos to survive an extended siege.

Perhaps the most interesting legend associated with the fortress’ construction is the one pertaining to Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya – a contemporary of Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq & one of the foremost Sufi saints in Delhi’s history. Hazrat Nizamuddin was well-renowned for his spiritual prowess & mystic tendencies, his hermitage (refer Pixelated Memories - Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin) was a meeting point for the city’s poor & starving & the rich & influential – he would feed the poor, look after the sick & bless the others for fulfillment of their wishes. But one man’s saint is another man’s villain – Ghiyas-ud-din was pissed at Hazrat Nizamuddin since the latter refused to return the one lakh (100,000) tankas (gold coins) that Nasir-ud-din Hasan Khusro had given him in order to win him over to his side – on assumption of power, Ghiyas-ud-din was cracking down on all the associates of Hasan & demanded that all the religious grants & land titles to nobles be returned to the state on account of their being illegal. Hazrat Nizamuddin had already donated his one lakh tankas in charity; he had nothing to give to the Sultan except his blessings – thus began the long feud that claimed as its cost not only the Sultan’s life but also Tughlaqabad’s fortunes!!

Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq's tomb, as seen from Tughlaqabad's walls (Photo courtesy - Wikipedia.org)

At the same time when Ghiyas-ud-din was building his capital, Hazrat Nizamuddin had employed laborers to help build a baoli (step well) close to his residence – Ghiyas-ud-din decreed that all capable men in the city should work on the new fortress or else face severe punishment. Fearing the emperor’s wrath, the workers had no option but to shift to the under-construction citadel; however, out of respect & adoration for the saint, they continued working at his baoli in their off hours. Ghiyas-ud-din reiterated his hatred for Hazrat Nizamuddin by raising the price of oil to keep workers from toiling in the night; the saint reciprocated with a prophecy directed at the fortress –

“Ya rahe usar, ya base Gujjar”

(“Either it remains barren or be inhabited by nomads”)

Ghiyas-ud-din was then on a military campaign in Bengal; so enraged was he at hearing the Sufi’s words that he decided to punish him when he returned to Delhi. When word of it reached Hazrat Nizamuddin’s ears, he issued another prophecy, this one pertaining to the Sultan himself –

"Hunuz Dilli dur ast”

(“Delhi is yet far away”)

Both these prophecies proved true – on his way back from Bengal, Ghiyas-ud-din was killed at Kara (Uttar Pradesh) when a wooden canopy collapsed over him during the reception arranged by his son Muhammad Juna Khan. (Much to the chagrin of his father) Muhammad Tughlaq was a follower of Hazrat Nizamuddin & it is generally assumed that he had a hand in the death of his father – the canopy was built to fail, moreover the prince delayed help from reaching the buried people. On succeeding to the throne, Muhammad Tughlaq decided to abandon Tughlaqabad on account of it being cursed & chose to build his own citadel opposite it – he christened it Muhammadabad initially, but later changed the name to Adilabad (“Abode of the just”) – the new fortress follows Tughlaqabad in its aesthetics & construction, but is comparatively much smaller. Despite its unassailable defensive features, Tughlaqabad never saw much warfare; it was soon deserted & only Gujjars came here to herd their cattle there. The fort is still believed to be cursed by many & wears a deserted look at night with only the ongoing traffic for company. This does not prevent the lovers who have turned this military outpost into a rendezvous point from coming here.

Bird's eye view (Photo courtesy - Sahapedia.wordpress.com)

The fortress was constructed with traditional stones & hence has been able to survive (almost) intact despite being abandoned for so long. The whole settlement area was divided into three parts – the palace, citadel and the residential quarters. Each area had its own baolis & water supply along with thoroughfares & buildings – the palace & city are almost in ruins now & very few complete structures survive intact. 13 of the original 52 gateways still exist – around these are located remains of the entire city which we could not explore properly because of the predominantly thorny vegetation that has overtaken these ruins. Nearby is a deep baoli too with long stone beams sticking out from its steep walls like ledges (giving the appearance of planks on a pirate ship) – perhaps these beams once formed part of a pavilion which was lost with time; there certainly is a great amount of rubble & fallen stone lining the bottom of the (now dry) baoli. The baoli is dry & filled in with thorny scrubs – one wonders what happened to all the water of the area, where did it disappear?! For baolis to function there ought to have been an adequate water level with replenishable or perennial sources – oh development, what hast thou done!! Remnants of the walkways & tunnels that once connected different parts of the fortress can also be seen.

Two of Delhi's sultans rest here!

Next we proceeded towards the elegant and well-maintained red tomb of Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq that I earlier mentioned seeing from the fortress ramparts. Ghiyas-ud-din had commissioned this mausoleum himself on an island in the lake next to the fortress – the structure was enclosed within fortified walls complete with massive bastions & a huge red sandstone gateway. It was connected to the fortress by means of a wide causeway – the lake dried out but the causeway still exists, though a portion of it was demolished to make way for the M.B. Road to pass through – even the causeway is oversized, its stones almost reach my waist – Ghiyas-ud-din had a penchant for doing things on a grand scale. The rectangular, red sandstone gateway leading within the tomb complex is reached by a flight of steps & is largely unornamented except for white marble inlay, medallions, carved red sandstone pillars & thick trabeate arches.

Conveying strength & grandeur

Sitting surrounded by monotonous grey walls on a bed of lush green grass, the bleak exteriors of the vibrant red mausoleum are in stark contrast to its surroundings. The square tomb was built in the Tughlaq style of architecture – the thick walls slope outwards & bear very little ornamentation in the form of white marble & grey quartzite inlay – a row of kanguras (battlement like ornamentation) adorn the roof while the arched entrances on three sides are lined with crenellated arches & jaalis (latticework) in marble. The fourth side is filled in & acts as a mihrab (western wall of a structure that indicates the direction of Mecca, faced by Muslims while offering Namaz). The massive dome, topped by a unique lotus finial, rests on an octagonal drum (base) & is blanketed by sparkling white marble slabs. The overall aesthetic effect is outstanding, conveying a sense of strength & subdued grandeur. The interiors are also remarkably plain – white marble shrouds most of the lower level as well as the entire portion above the entrances including the dome; strips of slate relieve the monotony by appearing in the mihrab – again the most appealing features are the thin carved pillars & the crenellated arches. Of the three graves, the central one belongs to Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq, another is of Muhammad Tughlaq & the last houses Ghiyas-ud-din’s wife. It is but natural to be overawed by the massive interior space; the silence is deafening & one instinctively begins to whisper in here lest one’s voice disturb the dead.

Graves - Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq (center), his wife (left) & son Muhammad Tughlaq (right)

Close to Ghiyas-ud-din’s tomb & built into the fortification walls of the tomb complex is another tomb, octagonal but similar in design & much smaller in proportions, that belongs to Zafar Khan, a pretty successful General in Ghiyas-ud-din’s army. It is said that Ghiyas-ud-din first built his general’s tomb here & its location gave him the idea of constructing his own tomb – he integrated the tomb into his own larger tomb complex & went on to christen the island Dar-ul-Aman (“Abode of peace”). Zafar Khan’s tomb is small, dark & considerably smaller – of the two graves inside, the central one belongs to Zafar Khan & is in a much better preserved condition compared to the one that lies crumbling next to it & belongs to his wife in all probability. Due to its merger with the fortification walls, the tomb appears entirely hemmed in, almost subterranean due to the darkness & confinement; light enters from the various small windows to create a play with darkness to illuminate the central grave while the smooth round dome overhead remains bathed in darkness; calligraphic inscriptions mark the arched entrances & lend an air of subtle subdued grace to the unornamented tomb.

Inside Zafar Khan's dark tomb

There are colonnaded walkways built into the walls next to Zafar Khan’s tomb – the simplistic carved pillars & jaalis (stone filigree screens) lend the appearance of strength & dignity to the dark passages, although the place could certainly do with occasional cleaning (anyone heeding?? ASI?)

Parallel to Tughlaqabad’s great walls stretches the fortress of Adilabad that almost appears to be a copy of the former. This later fortress also incorporated within itself the sluice gates that controlled the level of the artificial lake along with several defensive structures. Close to Adilabad is a third fortress referred to as "Nai ka Kot" ("Barber's fort") - barring the name, the fortress has no connection to barbers - it was used as a private residence by Muhammad Tughlaq while Adilabad was under construction. One day is less than sufficient if one wishes to explore all threee fortresses in detail; we decided to leave after paying only a cursory visit to Adilabad.

Colonnaded walkways surrounding Zafar Khan's tomb

After a day spent at the place, the fortress feels like a friend & both Ghiyas-ud-din Tughlaq & Hazrat Nizamuddin seem to be known to us – not as sultans and saints, or heroes and villains, but more like characters out of a seemingly impossible fairy tale. Leaving the fortress behind feels strange, sad actually; going back to humanity, the noise and the population after the silent sojourn amongst these ruins feels bitter. The traffic around the fortress continued to move in a state of trance, ignoring the fortress as if it was not even there. Maybe these people have become used to seeing the fortress daily, or maybe they are afraid that unlike the Sultan, they would not be leaving behind a formidable reminder with through the world would know them. I sure was!

Suggestion: There are no public facilities (food court, toilets or drinking water) at Tughlaqabad-Adilabad. It is advised to carry adequate amount of drinking water as well as eatables with you. Kind request to not litter the place with bottles/food packets after you are done. One can avail public conveniences at the malls at Saket (20 min by bus – buses can be availed from outside the fortress; any bus going towards Mehrauli/Lado Serai will drop you at Saket)

Location: Along Mehrauli-Badarpur Road (M.B. Road)
Nearest Metro Station: Tughlaqabad
How to reach: Buses ply from different parts of the city for Badarpur/M.B. Road. One can hop on any bus going towards Mehrauli & get down at Tughlaqabad. Same after deboarding at Tughlaqabad metro station.
Entrance fees: Rs 5 (Citizens of India, SAARC countries, Thailand & Myanmar), Rs 100 (others)
Photography/Video Charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 day
Relevant Links -

Pixelated Memories - Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin

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