Thursday 28 February 2013

Fatehpur Sikri: Uttar Pradesh Part 8

The Emperor Akbar's Purpose Built Capital

Agra to Fatehpur Sikri


India
Uttar Pradesh
In the morning we set off on the 40km journey to Fatehpur Sikri, picking Solanky up en route. Agra in the morning rush hour presented the usual cacophony of horns as cars and buses attempted to shove their way through a tangle of bicycles, motorcycles, tuk-tuks and bicycle rickshaws; scary, but unlike Varanasi everything kept moving.

Leaving the Uktarsh Villa Hotel, Agra

Fatehpur Sikri, an Introduction

Fatehpur Sikri, the purpose built capital for the Mughal empire, was founded in 1569 by the emperor Akbar - sometimes tautologously known as Akbar the Great - the grandfather of Shah Jahan who built the Taj Mahal.

Akbar’s palace sits on a ridge above present day Fatehpur Sikri. We skirted the small town and arrived at the old city car park, where a crowded shuttle bus took us on the last part of the journey.

Fatehpur Sikri is 40km west of Agra in Agra District and 230km SE of Delhi

Alighting, we ran the gauntlet of eager stall holders. Sending a winsome child to walk alongside you until you have, at the very least, promised to visit their parent’s stall on your return was a popular technique.

Akbar's Palace

Like the older Topkapı Palace, Fatehpur Sikri consists of independent pavilions geometrically arranged on level ground, a pattern which derives from the nomadic encampments of central Asia where both the Ottoman and the Mughal empires had their origins.

Akbar was personally concerned with the design of the buildings which, though based on the ideas of his Persian forebears, have many Indian embellishments and are constructed in the local red sandstone.

Fatehpur Sikri

Akbar occupied Fatehpur Sikri for only fourteen years. In 1585 problems in the north required him to move his capital to Lahore and when he returned to Uttar Pradesh in 1598 he re-established himself in Agra. Why Fatehpur Sikri became a well preserved ghost town is unknown. It has been suggested there was a problem with the water supply, but maybe it was simply the caprice of an autocratic ruler.

Passing through the gate we entered a grassed area surrounded by red sandstone buildings. Akbar's favourite method of execution was to have miscreants stamped to death by an irritated elephant and the iron ring set in concrete to which victims were chained can still be seen. Akbar had a fiery temper and he was aware of this character flaw, so issued a standing order that death penalties should never be carried out hastily. Given twenty four hours to calm down he was more likely to temper justice with mercy.

Women labourers, Fatehpur Sikri

Wandering into the next courtyard we passed two women carrying baskets of bricks on their heads. There have been many powerful women in modern India, Indira Ghandi to name the most obvious, but women more often play a subservient role. It comes as a shock to see women working in heavy manual labour, but there are women labourers at road works and on building sites, and here doing the heavy work of the restoration programme.

Diwan-i-Khas, The Hall of Private Audience


Diwan-i-Khas, the Hall of Private Audience, Fatehpur Sikri

The Diwan-i-Khas, the Hall of Private Audience, is a striking building from the outside, but is even more remarkable on the inside. Akbar’s advisors would sit in the hall discussing the issues of the day, while the emperor sat above them unseen in the nest on the central pillar. Enclosed walkways allowed him to come and go unnoticed, so if he was not joining in the discussion nobody knew if he was listening intently or had taken himself off to the Turkish bath.

Inside the Diwan-i-Khas, Fatehpur Sikri

The wall decorations are worth a look, too. Many are in excellent condition, but some have been defaced by stricter Muslims than Akbar who objected to the figurative carvings.

Carvings, Diwan-i-Khas, Fatehpur Sikri

Panch Mahal, Pool and Parchisi 'Board'

If the Diwan-i-Khas was for business, much of the area round it was designed for recreation. The Panch Mahal, a five storied building resting on columns, gives views across the palace complex and surrounding country. It backs on to the harem, and was intended as Akbar's pleasure palace.

Panch Mahal, Fatehpur Sikri

Outside is a pool with walkways to a central area where musicians would sit. The pool both cooled the courtyard and improved the acoustics.

Anoop Talao, the bandstand in the pool, Fatehpur Sikri

Beside the pool is an outsized Pachisi board. Akbar played the game - essentially the same as ludo - with real people instead of counters.

Akbar's outsized parchisi board, Fatehpur Sikri

The Elephant Tusk Tower

The tower of elephant tusks is a little off-site and could be seen by those approaching the palace. Ivory was an expensive product used for luxury goods, and to have a tower with whole tusks - rather hidden in the picture - protruding like this was Akbar's way of announcing his wealth to the visitor. The original ivory tusks were long ago replaced by stone tusks.

The Elephant Tusk Tower, Fatehpur Sikri

Leaving the complex we failed to dodge the stall holders, who were disappointed that we only bought a fridge magnet - until we visited an ATM it was all we could afford.

Buland Darwaza, The Great Gate

We walked round the outside to the Buland Darwaza, literally ‘Great Gate’. When Akbar returned from Lahore he may have settled in Agra, but he did at least drop by Fatehpur Sikri to build a gate to commemorate his victory over Gujarat. Inscriptions round the gate record not only this victory but also his conquest of Uttar Pradesh. A further inscription pays tribute to his religious broad mindedness. Respect for other people's faiths was a hallmark of all the early Mughal emperors and explains, to a certain extent, how Muslim emperors could reign over a largely Hindu populace without too much unrest. When Shah Jahan was usurped by his son Aurangzeb, this tolerance came to an end - and so did the Mughal golden age.

Buland Darwaza, 'The Great Gate', Fatehpur Sikri

Return to Delhi

We caught a tuk-tuk back to the car park, took our leave of Solanky and of Fatehpur Sikri and started the long journey back to Delhi.

Solanky pays off the tuk-tuk, Fatehpur Sikri

Entertainment at a Level crossing

We had not gone far when we were halted at a level crossing. We joined the queue and sat there as the queue grew larger, though not necessarily longer – as is the Indian way. After a protracted wait without seeing any trains the driver and I went to see what was happening.

The level crossing gate, a red and white striped pole across the road, should have been raised by a power driven winch, but the cable had snapped leaving the gate in the down position. When we arrived the crossing keeper and his assistant were busy putting a joint between the two pieces of cable. That such a piece of equipment was readily available suggested this was not an unknown occurrence. A few years ago near Hospet in the far south we had encountered a level crossing which consisted of two elderly men holding a piece of string across the road. It may have been basic, but at least it couldn't break down.

While the driver and I watched the repair Lynne was observing a small boy climbing onto the roof of the crossing keeper’s hut, intent on grabbing as much of the low hanging fruit as he could cram in his mouth and pockets.

Climbing onto the roof, level crossing near Fatehpur Sikri

Eventually the repair was complete and we moved on, joined the main road and made steady if hardly speedy progress towards Delhi.

Grabbing the fruit, level crossing near Fatehpur Sikri

A Regrettable Lunch but a Suprisingly Good Dinner

Our driver had little or no English, and we are equally ignorant of Hindi, but as time went on and he showed no sign of stopping for lunch we managed to indicate that we were ready for something to eat. He nodded, tapped his watch and carried on driving. We passed several suitable places, but clearly he had been given instructions and intended to carry them out to the letter.

We had been late setting out even before the level crossing delay, so it was three thirty by the time we stopped. It was a large restaurant, once posh but now looking tired and unloved. It was empty except for one other European couple, and was precisely the sort of place tour operators imagine we would want to stop at, and precisely the sort of place we would avoid, given the choice, but we had no choice, or at least none we could communicate to the driver. We ordered soup and a chapatti knowing it to be overpriced and expecting it to be woefully thin. We were not disappointed.

Places that attract - or at least are frequented by - Europeans, also attract anybody who thinks they can make a rupee or two. A man standing in the doorway of the toilet, handed out a piece of toilet paper, whether required or not, and then pointed out where the soap was (because, being a pampered idiot European, I could never have spotted it on my own). If he had put more effort into cleaning the place rather than pretending to offer a service, then he might have received a larger tip. As we got back in the car a 'musician' turned up with a child to entertain us. It was such a half-hearted performance I would have preferred an honest beggar. I know they are poor people and it is my duty as one blessed by fortune to put my hand in my pocket, but the whole place, the decor, the cooking, the service and the hangers-on seemed steeped in cynicism.

We moved on down the main road, passing continuous habitation. Much building was going on, including this ambitious mosque, and the roadside was lined with builders’ waste and litter. We saw so many people sitting outside their roadside homes surrounded by rubble and plastic bags as though that was a normal environment. Plastic bags have, at least, been banned in Delhi, and it would be a good idea if they disappeared from the rest of India – and, indeed, the world.

Building project, approaching Delhi from Fatehpur Sikri

Although the Indian cuisine is rightly regarded as one of the world's finest, the food on this trip had rarely risen above ‘adequate’. We were looking forward to returning to Delhi as we had started our journey with an excellent garlic chicken at the Chowra Chick-Inn, a short walk from our hotel, and thought we might finish it the same way. Lynne was particularly keen; it was the first time for days she had felt like eating. It was a good plan until we reached the door and found Thursday was their closing day. The hotel restaurant – something we generally try to avoid - seemed the only option.

Slightly to our surprise, the hotel's butter chicken turned out to be very good indeed, almost up there with the garlic chicken of the Chowra Chick-inn and the Mughal goat curry of the Royal Café in Lucknow. Those were the only three meals of the trip I would happily to eat again.

Thank You and Goodbye

The next day we returned to Indira Ghandi airport and thence home. Our thanks to Travel Inn of Delhi who made all the ground arrangements, providing drivers, guides and train tickets. Almost all of their arrangements worked perfectly, and when they did not - at the Kumbh Mela - they responded quickly to our request for assistance.


Wednesday 27 February 2013

Agra and the Taj Mahal: Uttar Pradesh Part 7

The World's Most Beautiful Building and Agra's other Charms

The Taj Mahal


India
Uttar Pradesh
Despite a latish night caused by the tardiness of our train from Lucknow, we rose early. According to received wisdom the best time to see the Taj Mahal is at dawn, but it does not open until daybreak, so we settled for dawn’s closest approximation.

To protect the stonework from pollution, internal combustion engines are banned near the Taj so we travelled the last two hundred metres in an electric tuk-tuk. We would have been happy to walk, and given the air quality in India's major cities, I doubt that a two hundred metre cordon sanitaire makes a significant difference, but it provides much-needed jobs for drivers.

Electric tuk-tuk to the Taj

There was a short queue. I had feared worse, visiting one of the world's greatest tourist attractions is never going to be a solitary experience.

Beyond the inevitable ‘security’ we entered a courtyard where an impressive red sandstone gatehouse cunningly concealed the Taj from view.

The Taj Mahal gatehouse, Agra

Everybody knows what the Taj Mahal looks like. I remember seeing photographs as a child and thinking, 'I want to go there, I want to see that.' With such a long held ambition in imminent danger of being realised, I found myself fretting; it was only a building, how could it possibly justify the hype?

The Taj appears almost suddenly as you walk through the gatehouse. The first sight has the power to stop people in their tracks and most – including me – then raise their cameras. Some will experience the Taj almost entirely through the viewfinder of a camera.

First glimpse of the Taj Mahal through the gatehouse

At the far end of a serene, slightly misty and at this hour almost empty garden, was a building of gleaming white marble apparently floating in the air. It was taller than I expected, though perhaps not as wide, but the proportions are, in a way I do not really understand, absolutely perfect.

The Taj Mahal floating in the morning sky

We entered the garden, which is quartered by water in the Persian style, in imitation of the Garden of Paradise. In Delhi, we had seen Humayun’s tomb, an earlier - and also magnificent – variant on this theme, but the Taj, blending elements of Ottoman and Indian style with the Persian, is the pinnacle of Mughal architecture - and it is not just the building that dazzles the eye and takes away the breath, it is the setting, too.

Shah Jahan was the fifth Mughal emperor, great-great-grandson of Babur, the founder of the dynasty and great-grandson of Humayun. He came to the throne in 1628 during the Mughal golden age. Mumtaz Mahal was his favourite wife (he had nine to choose from) and the love of his life. She died in 1631, aged 38, giving birth to her fourteenth child and the Taj Mahal is the tomb her grief stricken husband built for her. Starting in 1632 it took 21 years to complete.

We took our time walking through the garden. About half way down is the bench where Princess Diana once sat looking rather lonely. Every tourist on God's earth now needs to have themselves photographed sitting on that seat. There are often queues, but we had to wait only for the people who were on it to move off and then Solanky did the honours with the camera. The picture is distinctly unoriginal but, hackneyed as it may be, I still like it.

On Princess Diana's seat, Taj Mahal

Solanky left us to look round on our own saying he would wait by the entrance. How many times, I wondered, had he been here? How many times do you have to visit before it becomes just another day at work? Does it ever? We should have asked him.

A closer look at the Taj

After our slow, almost reverent, approach to the building, we climbed the stairs onto the plinth on which it stands. Close up it was no less magnificent, still seemingly ethereal and floating despite its vast bulk. We felt compelled to touch the wall as though placing a palm flat against the marble connected us to all the people who have done that before, to Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal, to the unknown craftsmen who built it and to concepts of love and beauty. I sometimes see myself as an amateur Vulcan; logical, sceptical and calm, but not here, not on this day.

An even closer look, Taj Mahal, Agra

The decoration is as remarkable as the building. There is calligraphy,…..

Calligraphy round the doorway, Taj Mahal

….. there are plants carved in the marble….

Carvings, Taj Mahal

… and everywhere the walls are covered with Pietra Dura work, a technique in which a pattern of shallow indentations is carved in the marble, into which small carefully shaped pieces of tortoiseshell, mother of pearl and semi-precious stones – cornelian, jasper, lapis lazuli, onyx and topaz - are fitted. They looked as fresh and bright as on the day they were made. The attention to detail is meticulous, the calligraphy around the doorways becomes larger at it ascends, so from the readers' point of view it all looks exactly the same size, straight lines part slightly as they retreat into the distance so the onlooker perceives them as being parallel.

Pietra Dura, Taj Mahal

Everywhere there is symmetry. The building is symmetrical, the gardens are symmetrical and the mosque facing the Taj on its left is balanced by family quarters on the right. The tomb of Mumtaz Mahal stands in the very centre of the building – where else should she be? – but in 1658 when Shah Jahan died, Aurangzeb, his son, successor and for the final years of his life, his jailer, decided his father and mother should lie beside each other in death. Ironically, only the tomb of Shah Jahan breaks the symmetry he created.

The mosque beside the Taj Mahal

Having seen the tombs we walked over to the mosque, a red sandstone building of interest in its own right,….

Inside the mosque, Taj Mahal

… walked behind the Taj where the Yamuna River flows quietly past and….

The Yamuna River behind the Taj Mahal

....walked in the gardens and watched the egrets and pond herons.

The sign says 'No Perching', Gardens, Taj Mahal

We were reluctant to leave, but eventually we had to move on. Not long ago a day ticket would allow you to return as often as you wished and see the Taj changing colour as the sun moved across the sky. Nowadays our 750 Rupee (£9) Ticket (reasonable by western standard, but Indian citizens pay 20 Rupees) allowed us in once only. It is a shame, but many thousands want to see the building every day; we have to share and it had been a privilege to be there.

The Baby Taj - The Tomb of I'timad-ud-Daulah

We returned to our hotel for breakfast and then set off to see the 'Baby Taj'. Agra is full of monuments that would be major attractions elsewhere but once you have seen the Taj Mahal the others have an 'after the Lord Mayor's Show' feel.

The tomb of I'timad-ud-Daulah - The 'Baby Taj', Agra

The so-called Baby Taj, though, was worth the trip. Officially it is the tomb of I'timad-ud-Daulah (The Pillar of the State) whose real name was Mirza Ghiyas Beg. He was the father of Nur Jahan, the wife of Emperor Jahangir, and the grandfather of Mumtaz Mahal. It was built under Nur Jahan's instructions between 1622 and 1628.

Inside the tomb of I'timad-ud-Daulah, Agra - When you have a tomb this good you have to share

The tomb of Humayun in Delhi provided the template for the Taj Mahal, but like all earlier Mughal tombs it was built of red sandstone. The Baby Taj breaks with this tradition being constructed, like the Taj Mahal, of white Rajasthan marble. All the decorative techniques used in the Taj Mahal, notably Pietra Dura, are here, too.

Pietra Dura, Baby Taj, Agra

It has been described as a draft for the later building, but that is a judgement of hindsight; Mumtaz Mahal was still alive when it was completed.

Ceiling, 'Baby Taj', Agra

Despite its exquisite decorations, the proportions are not quite right, the building looks dumpy and the cap on the roof looks to have fallen over its eyes.

The tomb of I'timad-ud-Daulah, Agra - The 'Baby Taj'

Agra Fort

We moved on to the Agra Fort. Sitting on a bend in the Yamuna River two and a half kilometres north of the Taj, it was captured by Babur, the first Mughal emperor, in 1526 as he established his empire. He captured the Koh-i-nor at the same time, but that ended up a jewel in somebody else’s crown. First mention in 1080, the fort was originally brick but by the time Babur’s grandson Akbar moved his capital here, it was largely sandstone. His grandson Shah Jahan added the white marble buildings inside.

Into Agra fort over the dry moat

We entered what is more of a walled city than a fort by the Amar Singh gate, as all tourists must - the Indian military still occupies part of the fort and the Delhi gate is for their use only. Crossing the now empty moat, we walked up a long sunken passage. The acoustics, Solanky informed, us allowed the servants advance warning of the approaching emperor. It also provided a place where invaders would prefer not to be trapped.

Inside Agra Fort

Inside are the usual range of halls and apartments, royal chambers having ingenious water features to keep the rooms cool.

Cooling water feature, Agra Fort - though now without water

When the Emperor Jehangir came to the throne 1605 he began one of the early experiments in open government. The ‘Chain of Justice’ was slung over the castle wall so that any citizen with a grievance could give it a tug, ring the bell and receive a hearing. I have no idea how well the system worked, but it would be a brave man indeed who would tug on the emperor's bell rope.

Royal Apartments, Agra Fort

A Mughal emperor could usually expect to see his sons killing one another until only the most cunning and ruthless was in a position to succeed, often then deposing their father. Shah Jahan succedded his father and killed his remaining brothers in 1628. He could hardly have been surprised when, in his dotage, power was rested from him by his son Aurangzeb, who kept him a prisoner in the fort. Legend says - and may, for once, be accurate - that he died on the white marble balcony from which his father hung the Chain of Justice.

The Shah Burj, from which the Chain of Justice was hung and where Shah Jahan, may have died, Agra Fort

It has a view down the river to the Taj Mahal. If mud flats occupied the bend in the river as they do today, it was probably a good idea for him not to look down, but to keep his failing eyes fixed on the distant building, which from this range looks every bit as enchanting and enchanted as it does from close up.

The Taj Mahal from the Shah Burj, Agra Fort

As Mughal power waned and British power waxed, the fort inevitably fell into British hands. In the rebellion of 1857 John Russell Colvin, Lieutenant Governor of the North West Provinces was trapped here with a small force. His diplomatic skills ensured they survived, but Colvin himself died of cholera. Unable to bury him outside the fort, he was laid to rest inside, right in front of Hall of Public Audience, which was considered a little insensitive. The Hall once contained the Peacock Throne, which later made its way to Delhi, and later still to Tehran where it became the throne of the Shahs of Iran. We saw it in the Tehran treasury in 2000.

The grave of John Russell Colvin, Agra Fort

Pietra Dura Workshop

We finished a long morning at a pietra dura workshop. Using diamond tipped wheels turned by muscle-power, they cut the gemstones to fit the spaces carved in the marble. Many hours of highly skilled work are required to produce a finished article, which can be as small as a drinks coaster or as large as a dining table. Solanky described the workers as the descendants of the men who built, or at least decorated, the Taj. In a spiritual sense they undoubtedly are and, quite possibly, that they are in a literal sense too.

Grinding the stones for Pietra Dura. Agra

The pieces seemed expensive - but not when you consider the work that goes into them. We did not need a set of drinks coasters, but they are extraordinarily beautiful and provide some sort of ersatz link with the building down the road. After a short bargaining session we became their owners. The coasters are handmade, so they are all different, but you have to look closely to see that.

Pietra Dura Coasters

A light Lunch and a Stroll through the Streets of Agra

We fancied a light lunch, and a snack of fried pakoras filled the bill nicely. I was delighted to find, for the first time on this whole trip, that we were in a restaurant that sold beer. Many years ago a wise man told me that there is no such thing as bad beer, there is only beer and good beer. In his binary world, Kingfisher is definitely beer.

In the afternoon we took a walk. Our hotel was situated on Highway 62 as it starts to leave the town which is not the most interesting area, but this being India, there was plenty to see, a cow walking up the road….

Highway 62, Agra

…. a bicycle repair shop located in a banyan tree…..

Bicycle repair man, Highway 62, Agra

…. a roadside barber's….

Having a shave beside Highway 62, Agra

… and a small shrine to Hanuman the monkey god.

Small shrine by Highway 62, Agra

On one side of the road there was squalor, on the other the wrought iron gates outside the homes of the prosperous. We came across a smart looking self-service shop selling a peculiar selection of packaged foods and cooking utensils. We bought some crisps, which pleased Lynne as her stomach was still not right, but she can always manage a crisp.

A Regretable Dinner of 'Tourist Food'

There was little choice locally in the way of restaurants but there was one smart looking place within easy walking distance. Most of the clientele were from a large tour group. A few other couples and foursomes were dotted around room, but they too were all European; the only Indians diners were the guides with the group.

Lynne had a snack and a lime juice. I had my second beer of the week – and of the day - and ordered murgh badami, a dish I sometimes cook at home; I wanted to see how it should be done. It ought to have a rich sauce based on ground almonds and be gently spiced; that is the theory, but what I was served could only be described as ‘bland’. This was not how Murgh Badami should be, this was the regrettable result of a restaurant frightened of offending even the most unadventurous of western palates.