Showing posts with label Musicians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musicians. Show all posts

September 03, 2013

Kankalitala Shaktipeetha, Birbhum


The simplest of all "Shakti Peetha" ("Centers of spiritual power") that I have come across so far during my sojourns, Kankalitala temple in Birbhum (Bengal) is also by far one of the most unadorned temples that I have ever been to – to sum it, the main shrine consists of just an ordinary colonnaded rectangular hall with a small enclosed sanctum on one end. The square sanctum, surmounted by a typical pyramidal roof, possesses only a nondescript, thoroughly garlanded portrait of Goddess Kali (the Hindu Goddess of death and destruction) that is kept surrounded by adornments and articles of worship. What was more shocking was that this simplicity of the shrine continued even during the holy Hindu month of "Sawan" that is dedicated to the worship of Shiva, Goddess Kali's consort and the primordial Hindu God of death and destruction – being an important center of pilgrimage visited by devotees throughout the year and especially during Sawan, one would have assumed the temple to be beautifully decorated, but nothing of that sort! Unaware of the significance of the holy month and its subsequent effect on the temple's daily footfall, we were in for a shock when we visited the shrine complex – there were at least a thousand "Kanwariyas" jostling for space not only within the complex  but also along the streets and in public buses – we literally felt we have landed in the middle of a small, boring and very poorly oganized fair where everyone decided to dress up in saffron! Every Sawan, millions of these men, women and children, collectively referred to as "Kanwariyas" and dressed in saffron for easy identification, throng to the river Ganga armed with slender ornamental poles (imaginatively decorated with miniature plastic tridents, idols of Shiva, snakes and other symbolism associated with Lord Shiva according to Hindu mythology) affixed with water pots on each side. Travelling in large groups on foot/buses, these people embark for the journey from their native places and head to the sacred river where they fill the water pots which they later empty either at the temple they regularly visit or at one of the mythological hallowed sites such as a Shakti Peetha – owing to the belief that completing the journey on foot will avail greater spiritual benefits, especially in the afterlife, most of the Kanwariyas prefer to cover the journey on foot and even children as young as 7-8 years walk several hundred kilometers! Incredible India, isn't it?!


The image of Goddess Kali gracing the sanctum. Notice also that Lord Shiva has been depicted lying under her feet, an iconography derived from another Kali legend that has been previously discussed here – Pixelated Memories - Kali Puja, Durgapur.


The mythological lore governing the existence of each of the 51 legendary Shakti Peethas throughout the Indian subcontinent has been discussed in detail here – Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam (Kamakhya Temple happened to be the first such shrine I visited).The Kanwariyas, who look for such indisputably holy spots to empty their quota of the water from Ganga in exchange for spiritual well-being, throng to these Shakti Peethas like bees to honey and Kankalitala temple, where the Goddess’ cleaved waist is said to have fallen, is no exception to this – the thousands of pilgrims jostling to pay respects to the mother Goddess are witness to this and ensured that we could not get clear photos of either the temple or the sanctum. And that's not all, we couldn't even get standing space in the bus we took to reach the temple and had to actually sit on its roof while the skies rained and thundered heavily.


The central temple at Kankalitala


But the temple's simplicity does not mean that it does not hide impressive surprises – the first of these, a huge gateway crafted by local sculptor-artists and decorated with painstakingly executed terracotta panels, greets visitors at the very periphery of the complex itself – the magnificence of the gateway is derived from, but not limited to, its thick cylindrical pillars embossed with panels depicting royal processions, traditional dancers and elephants.


Design motifs on the entrance gateway to the temple complex


As mentioned earlier, the sanctum is a simplistic square sanctuary capped by a pyramidal roof which is further topped by a metallic spire shaped like ceremonial pots of gradually decreasing sizes placed atop each other. The Natmandir, where visitors and devotees sit and pray from (the raised pillared hall already mentioned) is three bays wide and four bays long. Unlike other Shakti Peethas, here Goddess Sati’s organs aren’t reverentially placed in the sanctum but are said to be submerged in a square tank (“Kund”) which is located close to the central temple and lead to by a flight of stairs on each side. Devotees, mostly women, descend down to the level of the venerable tank and take the sacred water in their palm to rub it on the forehead (assuming from what I observed in the short while that we stayed at the temple, here too, like Kamakhya Temple of Assam, drinking the hallowed water and thereby polluting it with saliva is prohibited).

On the other side of the temple is a sacred tree on which are hung numerous marigold wreaths and rounded stones tied via threads – a Bengali tradition to pray for pregnancy and safe childbirth. The Kanwariyas had left their now-emptied poles against the tree and the colors of the ornamental, vibrantly-colored poles contrasting against the bark of the old tree seemed visually attractive, but the incessant rains hampered any chances of clicking photographs, in fact we remained throughout the stay at Birbhum perennially afraid of damaging the cameras!


The sacred crater supposedly formed due to the impact of Goddess Sati's waist hitting the earth. It subsequently got filled with water.


The temple complex is actually very large, however there aren't many permanent structures within the campus – the associated Shiva temple, lined with marble and adorned with vermilion motifs, is located a couple of hundred meters away, close to the entrance gateway. The venerated Shivalinga (symbolic of Shiva’s phallus placed atop the Goddess' vagina) is made of hard black stone and adoringly referred to as "Shambhu Baba" and "Ruru Bhairav". Interestingly, at first sight the thick phallic construction appears to be buried in a deep crater which too, like the rest of the shrine's floor, is faced with spotless white marble on all sides; in fact, the priests who chant invocations while showering the linga with ceremonial water, flowers and condiments stand on a much higher plane compared to the deity they revere. The linga was once complete and protruded from the ground in all its majesty, but was destroyed base upwards by a viciously iconoclast 16th-century Muslim General popularly known as "Kala Pahar" (literally "Black Mountain", perhaps referring to his unparalleled physical strength or his terrible stone-heartedness) when Bengal was ruled by Afghan Pathan warlord Sulaiman Khan Karrani, a vassal of Mughal Emperor Akbar (ruled AD 1556-1605). That such a thick monolith was broken to pieces speaks of the animosity Kala Pahar felt for Hindus and their ancient traditions, though it is said that he himself was a convert from Hinduism and later notoriously excelled in destroying temples and religious sites. Also, the original structure of Assam's Kamakhya temple too was demolished by this ferocious General, as revealed in the earlier article here – Pixelated Memories - Kamakhya Temple, Assam.


The pit where the Shivalinga exists in its broken form


Opposite the Shiva temple is another roofed pavilion where the ornamental chariot used for the “Rath Yatra” (“Chariot journey”) of the deities is housed. The temple complex also boasts of a large cremation ground. As already mentioned, the temple was teeming with pilgrims and Kanwariyas on the day we visited; but, I do not expect the number of devotees to be that strong on other occasions, even though the temple is associated with “Bauls” (traditional mystic singers-composers) – one should properly time their visits, especially to religious sites, to avoid crowds if the purpose is architectural photography. Kankalitala is not part of the usual pilgrim circuit; richer and better located Shakti Peethas such as Kalighat (Calcutta) and Kamakhya steal the spotlight, but the crowds at the temple only prove how revered it is amongst devotees, many of whom come from afar. If only it were more developed and not so desolate!

Location: Birbhum, Bankura, West Bengal
Open: Sunrise to sunset
How to reach: Buses are available for Kankalitala from Siuri, Rajarhat and Bolpur divisions of Bankura district. The shrine can also be accessed by taking train to Bolpur/Rajarhat and from bus there on.
Entrance Fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 45 min
Relevant Links - 
Suggested Reading - 

March 19, 2013

Naubat Khana and Indian War Memorial Museum, Red Fort complex, Delhi


This article is part of a series about Red Fort, Delhi. Refer Pixelated Memories – Red Fort complex for the composite post.

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“There is ornamentation distributed over every portion, of gilt, coloured, and inlaid patterns in sinuous scrolls and serpentine lines accentuating that atmosphere of voluptuousness with which these buildings (within Red Fort) were so obviously associated. Within the traceried foliations on the walls, piers, and arches, conventional flowers were freely introduced, roses, poppies, lilies, and the like, for the Mughuls were flower worshippers, not content with those growing naturally in the gardens outside, but they craved for pictures of them always before their eyes.”
– Percy Brown, British art critic-scholar-historian-archaeologist,
“Indian Architecture, Volume II: Islamic Period”



“A thing of beauty is a joy forever” (John Keats)


Conceived of glistening rose-red sandstone, lavishly glazed with coats of sparkling white shell-lime plaster and profusely embossed with unbelievably intricate floral representations, the last even more exquisite than the real and dexterously encrusted with an incredibly thin layer of glittering gold paint – despite its bewildering artistic and sculptural excellence, functionally the superlatively majestic “Naubat Khana”, or “Music Gallery” or “Drum House” as it has often been referred as, was to the matchlessly extravagant Mughals a trifling formal gatehouse, undoubtedly constructed to inspire wide-eyed awe for their unparalleled lavish grandeur, yet technically just a functional demarcation between the magnificent fortress-palace’s peripheries and its regal interior divisions.

The gargantuan Red Fort – “Qila-i-Mu’alla” – is unquestionably considered as the pinnacle of Mughal fortress construction, and the imposing double-storied Naubat Khana aka Naqqar Khana was tactically built at the complex’s entrance. All visitors to the exemplar court, except princes of royal blood, would here dismount from their elephants and proceed further to the emperor’s majestic presence on foot – thus “Hathi Pol”, the edifice’s alternate nomenclature (“hathi” being the Hindi equivalent of “elephant”). Notwithstanding their prominent position or battle-worthiness, nobody, not even illustrious ambassadors, influential ministers or formidable military generals, were exempt from the rule. Twin arcades of six lofty chambers each existed on either side of the dignified edifice and housed royal guards and men attached with the regular routine of helping visiting notables alight from their vehicles and assemble their convoys.


Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde


Dresses of honor, conferred by the emperor on celebrated personages, were placed in smaller side-rooms (“toshkhana”), and were carried from there through the illustrious assembled crowds to the impressive royal courts (refer Pixelated Memories - Diwan-i-Am and Pixelated Memories - Diwan-i-Khas).

Besides playing tuneful compositions five times a day at propitious hours, bands of accomplished musicians accommodated in the upper floors of the grand entrance would also play solemn music whenever the mighty sovereign arrived from, or was about to depart for, a tour of his extensive territories. Drummers would play their instruments to announce the arrival of princes and other esteemed dignitaries amidst a booming pronouncement of official honorifics and regal pretensions proclaimed by court attendants. Francois Bernier, the French physician-traveler-chronicler who traveled through, and extensively documented, the Mughal Empire in the years AD 1656-68, initially took intense unbearable dislike to the overwhelming music consisting of oboe and cymbals.

Soon after the formidable Emperor Shahjahan (reign AD 1627-57) had envisioned the stunning fortress-palace as a glorious imitation of paradise on earth, the erstwhile unwavering revenue collection from far-flung provinces began to decline and the immense coffers of the sovereign treasury were even further strained by near-continuous wars and intrigues, so much so that the Emperor’s son and successor Aurangzeb Alamgir (reign AD 1657-1707) had to content himself with living life as an impoverished ascetic fulfilling his mortal requirements by sewing prayer caps and copying pages of the holy Quran that he then sold. Court patronage of music obviously had to be discontinued, the royal musician-composers were disbanded and the noble Naubat Khana, despite its enthralling ornamentation, was miserably transformed into a measly, uncared-for gateway which nonetheless fascinated visitors with its architectural opulence and the voluptuous flourishes of its decorative adornments.


...with a museum to vaunt


The history associated with the distinguished edifice has been notably sober, only intermittently taking the turn for gruesome brutality – it was within its exalted expanse that the emperors Jahandar Shah (reign AD 1712-13) and Farrukhsiyar (reign AD 1713-19) were murdered, the latter after having been first blinded. The privileges associated with the gorgeous edifice, especially its functional and prestigious importance, too transmuted into a fierce bone of contention between the despairingly destitute later Mughals and the incorrigibly conceited mutineers who prevailed upon the former to demurely participate in the First War of Independence/Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Here too were appallingly committed numerous barbaric atrocities and murders, and yet all these terrible tales from this much maligned long-distant and half-remembered past seem forgotten today, to only occasionally be borne on the fluttering wings of contemporaneous literary records and modern historical documentation.

“Along the edge of this tank (opposite Naqqar Khana), on the morning of 16th May 1857, were seated and were murdered the Christians who had been captured in the city, and chiefly in Daryaganj, during the five previous days – in number some fifty souls… One of the bitterest complaints of the last roi faindant of Delhi was that the mutinied soldiers used to ride through this gate, up to the Hall of Special Audience even, and walked about that hall with their shoes on, things which, he said plaintively, neither Nadir Shah nor Ahmad Shah, nor any British Governor-General (!) had ever done.”
– H.C. Fanshawe, 
British administrator and Commissioner of Delhi
“Delhi, Past and Present” (1902)



Hibiscus?


Of course, after the post-mutiny takeover of imperial Delhi, arrogant British soldiers would ride horseback till as far as the royal seraglio, and afterwards even proceed to demolish many of the opulent palaces, grandiose pleasure pavilions and functional edifices, including the immense arcades existential on either side of the Naqqar Khana, on frivolous accounts like being unsightly, unsanitary, or the space being required for strengthening the fortifications and raising monstrous military barracks!

The small ornamental tank in the middle of the court that Mr. Fanshawe mentions, where perpendicularly intersected the two arterial roads connecting the colossal fortress-palace’s interiors to its two considerably massive gateways, has also been obliterated entirely and in its place exists a small grass-carpeted square punctuated in the center with a perfect circle of flower-bearing shrubbery.

Visiting the enormous fortress-complex a few days back, armed with a comprehensively-detailed guidebook issued by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), I examined the beautiful edifice with great scrutiny and instantaneously fell in love with it. Undoubtedly, it exists as a mere wretched shadow of its original inspirational grandeur and bewitching artistic adornments, yet it is exceedingly well preserved and meticulously restored, especially vis-à-vis numerous other noble buildings within the unbelievably imposing palace complex.


Culmination!


The British East India Co.’s army had converted the edifice into an Officers’ barracks and several unappealing additions were instituted to its structure. The glimmering gold paint layering the design patterns and the lustrous lime plaster, which rendered it a shiny marble-like appearance congruous with the other palaces within the gigantic complex, gradually decayed and peeled off over the course of time until eventually only the vibrant red sandstone layer underneath remained.

In 1907, the said additions made to the poor structure were removed and it was painstakingly repaired as close to its original condition as financially feasible then – the British weren’t of course inclined to spend more financial, academic and human resources restoring edifices they themselves damaged and/or destroyed. Post-independence, ASI, cash-strapped, under-staffed and over-exhausted, never got around to garner enough funds to gold-leaf the dexterously embossed floral motifs, but nonetheless realized that they should at least layer the structure with white paint, a well-intentioned but poorly implemented administrative decision that has since caused widespread controversy and been thoughtlessly and unconscientiously put on hold in-process, as a despondent consequence of which the entire rectangular building is tastelessly divided into two precisely demarcated halves – the front carelessly painted brilliant white, the rear retaining the bright red, and the sides neatly divided into the two!


Exquisiteness, stolen from Sultan Iltutmish's mausoleum


While the white face is minimally festooned with shallow rectangular depression motifs, it is the exquisite floral embossments, dexterously sculpted in bewilderingly refined patterns, ornamenting the sandstone walls that spontaneously fixate one’s attention and invoke stunned admiration from amazed visitors. After spending an inordinate amount of time observing and photographing the majestic edifice and its various equally attractive decorative motifs on either side from every possible angle, alignment and composition, I still felt I am yet to understand the true extent of the ethereal beauty which permeates even the most inconspicuous of its surfaces. Even the otherwise plain base of the sandstone plinth on which the entire structure stands is marked with a line of painstakingly carved, exceedingly symmetrical, recurring inverted flower motifs!

Of the three almost equally-proportioned arched niches gracefully delineating the exteriors, the central is pierced by a massive entrance while the other two flanking it possess tiny doorways leading to the side chambers. Along the interior surfaces, the numerous high and pointed arches stretching around to climax in tiny bursts of radiant colors, the immaculately flawless curves, and the spider-webs of straight lines and geometric meshwork culminating in numerous thin star-patterns, all endeavor to picturesquely frame the smaller imaginatively conceived and ingeniously painted frescoes bearing in their midst remnants of impossibly incredible multi-hued foliage which unarguably steals the show, to say the least, and perennially reflects favorably upon Emperor Shahjahan’s exquisite tastes and his artist-craftsmen’s fantastic skills. Along one side of the entrance is embedded a strikingly intricate carved sandstone panel said to have been removed from the mausoleum of Slave Dynasty Sultan Shamshuddin Iltutmish (reign AD 1211-36, refer Pixelated Memories - Iltutmish's Tomb).


Spiders' envy!


A staircase along the unpainted rear side leads to the first floor where is located the Indian War Memorial Museum, a fascinating collection, as the name suggests, of sparkling battle insignia, corrosion-stained weaponry and numerous war-related technological breakthroughs, constituted to honor the Indian soldiers of the British army who gallantly fought in the two World Wars.

Sparsely furnished, the first gallery displays medieval Indian weaponry including several sorts of curved swords, ivory-inlaid daggers, inscribed battle-axes and rust-tarnished soldiers’ armors. The first highlight is a small diorama depicting the armies of Emperors Ibrahim Lodi (reign AD 1517-26) and Zahiruddin Muhammad “Babur” (reign AD 1526-30) facing off in the First Battle of Panipat.

The dimly-lit second gallery exhibits modern armaments and ammunition – numerous revolvers, ferocious-looking machine guns, easily-concealed pistols, golden glistening tank shells, cross-section of bomb fuses, French grenades, entire sets of soldiers’ uniforms, various shoulder badges and ribbons indicating military rank and hierarchy, and original models of telegraphic receivers.


Reminiscent of preserved biology samples in school!


Earlier, in an article about the desolate Shah Burj (refer Pixelated Memories - Shah Burj), I had mentioned how the once-unparalleled fortress has become full of heartrending anguishes and conservation-associated horrors on account of its forgotten history, obliterated grandeur, devastated architecture and annihilated ornamentation, and how to visit and observe it now is sadly not invocative anymore of excellent fantasies of its wonderful conception and beyond-fantastical execution but a horrific study of how a matchless palace complex can be overwhelmed and shattered. I am, to some extent, now forced to eat my words because the fortress-palace is still a worthy specimen, especially considering the presence of such dazzling edifices as Naqqar Khana and Diwan-i-Khas (refer Pixelated Memories - Diwan-i-Khas), to gain a memorable insight into the ceaseless affluence and the refined opulence of medieval Indian sovereigns, the spellbinding architectural entities commanded to existence agreeing with their unopposed commands, and the charming artistic ornamentation gloriously festooned on the same by supremely accomplished craftsmen bearing in their bosoms several millennium of interminable hereditary learning and dexterous expertise at plying even the most resilient stone like mere malleable wax.


“Stick 'em with the pointy end!”


Location: Red Fort, Old Delhi (Shahjahanabad). The fortress, located at an extremity of the renowned Chandni Chowk street and connected to all parts of the city via regular bus and metro services, remains open everyday from 9 am to 6 pm, followed by a light-and-sound show.
Nearest Metro Station: Chandni Chowk
Nearest Bus stop: Red Fort
Nearest Railway Station: Purani Dilli
How to reach: The fortress is a mere half kilometer from the metro station and about a kilometer from the railway station. Walk from either of them. The bus stop is located immediately across it and is connected to all parts of the city via regular bus service. There are regular trains throughout the day to Purani Dilli on Delhi circular railway line and from the neighboring suburbs.
Entrance fees (inclusive of museum charges): Indians: Rs 15; Foreigners: Rs 250
Photography/video charges: Nil. Tripods not allowed without prior permission.
Relevant Links -
Composite post about the fortress complex -
Pixelated Memories - Red Fort complex
Other monuments/landmarks located in the immediate vicinity -