Februay 19, 2012 Delhi Agra Weekend Episode 5
From Red Fort, we dash to Raj Ghat. Santoshji asks us to hurry with the memorials in the area because we have a lot to cover in the day and it is already close to noon.
Inside the memorial garden, we skip Charan Singh's Kisan Ghat and move straight to Mahatma Gandhi's Raj Ghat. Noticeboards urge visitors to avoid noise and maintain the serenity of the place. Not many pay attention. The walls of the enclosure have quotes of Gandhi engraved on them, but we are in a hurry. After deposting our shoes, we move straight to the famous black marble pedestal which regulary provides photo-op for many unworthy politicians.
"Inside, there is pin drop silence" Amma said based on her previous experience. Quite the opposite was true. We walk up hill to get a view of the garden.
Remarkably green patch of land is maintained in the city for these memorials right beside congested brown and cream apartment complexes. Cool morning breeze. We spot Rajiv and Indira memorials to our right and head towards them. As we near Rajiv's memorial, I get a phone call. Saiju wants to see if I know why printed circuit boards are green in color. I had no idea about the original soldering mask coloration then so I couldn't be of help but we discuss his upcoming presentation at a conference. Achan and Amma go into the memorial. I am not interested. Two male and one female guard are posted there. Amma's bag is examined.
From Rajiv's memorial called "Vir Bhumi", we move to Indira's Shakti Sthal. The trees around have labels. Much appreciated. There is a small pond with a smaller island at center. It reminds all of us of the artificial pond at Research Park of Texas A&M. There are few picnickers. Some geese,trying to pass for swans, groom themselves on the island. Three young ladies are busy sharing the week's gossip on their Sunday outing.
The Shakti Sthal monument is a monolith piece. A glittering rough brown. Achan, the old geologist, goes in for a closer inspection. "Take a picture of me with it," he says, " you can caption it as a rock and a fossil'. There are only two guards here. They are having a fun chat. I ask him what is the type of gun he is carrying. He removes headphone from his left ear to hear me better. "yeh tho INSAS he hai" he answers.
At the point where the park walkway turns towards the memorial rock, the spot where the guards ask us to remove our shoes, there is a magnificent piece of quartzite that has been brought from Himachal Pradesh. An organic feel for the smooth, patient handiwork of the river Sutlej over 1500 million years.
We walk among the teak trees to get back on the road to the parking area. Santoshji races as quickly as he can to get us to Akshar Dham. On the way, I notice the building of Indian Standards Institute with the famous ISI logo on its facade. There is also the post office. We recall watching the 'Deal or No Deal' show from the previous night at the hotel. The bonus question in the episode was "Which city in India introduced pincode system first?" Delhi was the correct answer.
Santoshji tells us that we are traveling on a bridge over river Yamuna towards Noida. We take a turnaround exit and get to the temple complex. The board at the entry road informs that it is also where some Common Wealth Games construction was done. All in all a rich area!
After the terrorist attack on the temple, security has been tremendously beefed up. Sunday has brought out thousands of devotees. Lines are super long. We fill up the form to make deposits in the cloakroom. Amma proceeds to the end of a long queue. I don't know if it is called the end of the queue or the beginning of the queue. She stands there for 2 minutes before realizing that it is better if we keep everything in the car instead of wasting time. We find Santoshji in the parking spot.
Back in another line. I try to dissuade my parents. I am not interested in this temple visit. We have only this afternoon and Delhi has a lot more to offer. This long queue will eat into the Qutb Minar, Humayun's tomb and others. More devotees start padding the line which shows no intention of moving ahead. We quit. I am glad. Onward to Humayun's tomb.
We pass by the Purana Qila, the Old Fort, on our way. It affirms its "Purana" status by visible signs of dilapidation. The moat around has been converted to a fun waterway. Plenty of couples taking rides on the paddle boats. Some are shaped like huge swans, the kind I have last seen in old mythological Malayalam movies.
Purana Qila is what Humayun lost to Shershah Suri and regained after a 15 year exile in Kabul via Persia after fleeing with Hamida Begum who was then pregnant with Akbar. This is where he died. Studies suggest the ancient epic capital of Indraprastha was probably inside this fort area. It had continues presence of ruling dynasties till Akbar moved.
When we had passed the prominent glazed blue dome of Subz Burj yesterday evening on our way to the Lotus Temple, Santoshji had told us that Humayun's tomb would be closed by 5:30pm in the evening. But the photo guide book we bought at Red Fort told us that it is open till 8pm. Santoshji asks us to find out for ourselves who is right.
The narrow road leading to Humayun's tomb is always clogged with the heavy duty deluxe tourist buses and the different sized four wheelers. Some men in Khaki stand around with namesake canes. I don't know who appointed them or if they have any role to play in ensuring smooth traffic. They don't seem to do anything. It is the tourist guides and drivers who take the initiative in clearing the jams that happen once every couple of minutes.
The tickets to Humayun's tomb are again different rates for Indians and foreigners. As Amma waits in the queue, my eyes meet those of a vaguely familiar looking foreigner lady for an awkwardly long period of time. A Malayalee tour group arrives at the ticket counter. The narrow entry way with a revolving bar stop allows only one person through at a time.
Humayun's tomb is the first example of garden-tomb which later became the hallmark of the Mughals and culminated in the Taj Mahal. It was commissioned by Hamida Banu Begum, Humayun's wife, in 1563, ninety years before the Taj was completed. The whole tomb complex covers several hectares of land which were once part of Humayun's new capital city, Din Panah. The intention was to make the tomb a landmark for the traffic through river Yamuna. Massive restoration work by the Archeological Society and Aga Khan foundation are in progress to regain the lost glory of the buildings and the gardens.
As we enter the complex, Isa Khan's tomb and mosque comes to the left. He was an Afghan noble under Sher Shah. It is closed for restoration. Since I couldn't find any board that mentioned the opening and closing time for tourists, I decide to ask the gun-less, cap-less watchman outside Isa Khan's tomb entrance.
"Till what time is this place open?" I ask.
"Udhar se andar ki gate hai" (the gate to go inside is there) he replies.
"Kitne baje tak khula hai yahan?" I translate the question into Hindi.
"Sade che" (6:30). Marquis de Sade turns in his grave.
Entering through the West gate, another impressive sandstone gateway rises to the left. Called the 'Serai', this is where the craftsmen and builders who came over for construction from Afghanistan and Persia stayed. The faded grey wooden door shows signs of wear and tear....after 500 centuries, I guess that is okay.
The pietra dura or stone inlaying technique is in its infancy in this monument. But the shape and overall planning of the structure and complex are certainly precursor to the Taj. The domes and minarets eminently forbear the shape of things to come in the glorious century of Indian architecture that followed its construction. A small museum of the restoration work and history of the complex is housed in the gateway.
There is a display of the three step creation of the 'Jaali' from sandstone. Jaali is the artistic lattice window made from sandstone and marble. They are also used as railing structures by the Mughals. At Humayun's tomb, the Jaali was born to satisfy the need to have a chamber that minimized light but maximized ventilation and life of the structure. It was created as a reminder of the story about the spider that protected Propher Mohammad by quickly weaving a web at the entrance of the cave he was hiding in, thereby misleading his pursuers to think that the cave had long been deserted. The word Jaali comes from the word for "web".
23 steep steps lead up to the main mausoleum. On the pedestal terrace several other Mughal family members including the Begum and Dara Shikoh, the popular son of Shah Jahan who was executed by Aurangazeb, are also entombed. Humayun's cenotaph is made of marble with no inlay decorations or carving.From the vantage point of the terrace, we can see other structures in the area like Babur's tomb. The gardens as they are getting restored sure look well on their way to their 16th century verdant glory.
Climbing down, we compare the steepness of the steps with the famous 18 steps that lead to Sabarimala temple. An old lady getting a glimpse of these steps from a distance, quickly rationalizes to the rest of her tourist group, "Uper jaake kya hai? Khaali tomb hi toh hai" (What is there to go upstairs? Afterall its only a tomb!). An young obese American lady lunges towards the monument with two friends. She has a baby face and is visibly happy about the trip. May be a little too happy. Tripping!
Amma wants her photograph taken while sitting on one of the massive niches of the gateway. Becoming aware of our tight schedule once more, we skip visiting the other monuments in the complex like Babur's tomb. As we exit, couple of members of the Malayalee tourist group that had entered after us, loudly shout and scold three others of their group who broke from the group and delayed others. High octane words but not abusive. The three culprits, with their heads hanging down, walk quickly towards the waiting bus. An old man sitting cross-legged on the lawn raises both hands and speaks to his imaginary friend in the sky. I wonder if we will soon start hearing about the Hindu origins of Humayun's tomb. Perhaps soon there will be claims that many ancient temples were destroyed here. Perhaps this will be announced the birth place of Brahma himself. Will there be cross country marches to topple Humayun's tomb? Are monuments safe in a pseudo-secular democracy?
Two cricket matches on side by side pitches are in progress in the grounds outside the tomb. Some foreign tourists get busy taking photographs of the games. This inspires the players. Clearly the older boys have managed to seize the paved pitch which must have been a rock walkway centuries ago. The younger ones play on the hard soil pitch in parallel, hardly five meters away. One wicket is monolithic. The other is an ephemeral tower of stones. The young will get their turn eventually. All towers will eventually return to stones.
I wrote the above on the morning of Feb 24, 2012 Friday. Achan has been running a fever since we returned from the trip. So he has been resting and reading. In the afternoon, he gave me the collection of short stories in Malayalam compiled by the legendary critic Prof. M. Krishnan Nair and asked me to read Anand's story in it titled "Aramathe weral" (sixth finger). It is a fictional account of what happened to Humayun's torturer named Ali Dost who had six fingers on both hands and feet. But according to Tadhkirat-al-Waqiat written by Humayun's servant, Jauhar, it was Ghulam Ali, another torturer/soldier who was called Shash-Angashth because of the six fingers. Thanks to Google books, we can see that Anand has reproduced Jauhar's account of the blinding of Kamran, Humayun's rebellious and inimical half-brother of Humayun. Each eye was poked 50 times. In Anand's short story, Kamran cries out as much as possible though a cloth is stuffed in his mouth and four guards hold him down. In Jouhar's account, Kamran only complains that one of the guards is unnecessarily adding to his pain by sitting on his knee. But he cries out in unbearable pain when lemon juice and salt are applied to the freshly pierced bleeding eyes.
Anand does mention Jauhar and Humayun's sister, Gulbadan, as historians of the time along with Bayyid Biyan and AbuFazl, so I am not sure if Ali Dost Berberi is identified as the six fingered torturer instead of Ghulam Ali by Gulbadan and others. Jauhar is the only one claiming to be an eye witness of the blinding. Anand's terrific short story then briefly encapsulates Humayun's return to the throne of Delhi and in passing provides brief but striking descriptions of the numerous horrific wars that were fought in North India. It is superbly rich in historical details.
When Bahdur Shah successfully lays the siege of Chittorgarh fort, all the women inside the fort, under the leadership of Queen Karnwati, set fire to the gunpowder and immolate themselves while all the men run into the swords and spears of the approaching army. Before committing these suicides, around 3000 children in the fort are thrown into the wells to die.
At the museum in Humayun's tomb, there is a quotation from his sister Gulbadan calling him an ever forgiving saintly person. Somehow the tortures and violence that he ordered, mostly thanks to his great addiction to opium, don't really agree with her assessment. It is true that he forgave his younger siblings several times for their rebellions. Even Kamran, after the blinding, is allowed to go thrice on pilgrimage to Mecca with his wife on the emperor's expense.
But according Anand's story, the same Humayun also had the habit of wearing a red silk shawl when he is angry and intoxicated. This signaled the soldiers to indulge in pillage and rape in the defeated town along with elaborate displays of the captured enemy soldiers in front of the drug-crazed emperor for his entertainment. It would stop only when Humayun changed to a green silk shawl.
Gulbadan with an appealing frankness writes that Kamran was a better poet than Humayun. Humayun finally fell to his death from the steps of his library after having roughly one year of peace in the Purana Qila when he indulged in astrology and occult. Humayun's life was one of extremes, but I believe that can be said about most of the world's emperors in history. Steven Pinker might have a point that we are becoming less violent as a species but then are we also becoming incapable of conceiving Taj Mahals? Like a candle burning from both ends, is our emotional range reducing to a dull optimum?
aashamsakal.....
ReplyDelete