Travelling Around Britain and the World

Saturday, 2 March 2019

Siddhpur, Patan and Modhera: Gujarat Part 4

Gujarat: The What, Where, When and Who


India
Gujarat

This post covers day 4 of a 14-day journey around Gujarat, following our circuit of Rajasthan last year. Smaller than Rajasthan, Gujarat is about the size of the Island of Great Britain and has much the same population.

5,000 years ago, Gujarat was a centre of the Indus Valley civilization and subsequently played its part in most of the major north Indian empires. When Islamic invaders reached northern India in the 9th century Gujarat held out until 1300 when it became part of the Delhi Sultanate.

After rearranging our schedule, today we visited Siddhpr, Patan and Modhera before heading south to Bajana.

An independent Muslim sultan seized power in 1391and Gujarat maintained its independence until becoming part of the Mughal Empire in the 16th century and later the British Empire, though local rulers of a patchwork of Princely States retained considerable autonomy. At independence in 1947 Gujarat became part of the State of Bombay, becoming a state in its own right in 1960.

With a long coast line facing the Arabian sea, Gujaratis have been seafarers and international traders for millennia.

Gujarat is the home state of both Mahatma Gandhi and the current Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi.

-o0o0o-

The Dawoodi Bohra, a Spectacular Step Well and an Ancient Temple

The three towns featured in this post may not be well known outside Gujarat, but all are well worth visiting.

South to Siddhpur

After successfully re-entering Gujarat with our liquor supply intact, despite my licence being locked in an unopenable case, L drove us to the small town of Ambaji where Vijay had spent the night. We found him waiting on a corner.

Although Siddhpur is less than 90km to the south, the journey took the best part of 2 hours. Part of the road was undergoing repair…

Indian buses should never be argued with - they tend to drive faster than many would think appropriate and bully all other vehicles out of their path

…though it was not busy…

Ambaji to Siddhpur

…not with vehicles, anyway.

Ambaji to Siddhpur

Siddhpur

The Houses of the Dawoodi Bohra

Siddhpur may have over a thousand years of history, but at first it resembled any other middle-sized Gujarati town. However, nearing the centre we started to notice residential buildings of an unusually elegant style.

Dawoodi Bohra houses, Siddhpur

Not just one or two but whole streets…

Dawoodi Bohra houses, Siddhpur

….indeed a whole residential district.

Dawoodi Bohra houses, Siddhpur

These are the homes of the Dawoodi Bohra, a community of over a million, most of whom live in Gujarat or Karachi, several thousand of them in Siddhpur.

In my ignorance I quite recently believed Islam consists of two monolithic blocks, Sunni and Shia. Then we met the Ibadis in Oman, and now it is about to become much more complicated. The Sunni/Shia split occurred early on, in the 7th century CE, the Ismaili diverged from the Shia mainstream in the 8th century, they split into Nizaris and Mustaali in the 11th and the Mustaali split into the Taiyyibi and Hafiz in the 12th. Most Taiyyibi are now members of the seven different Bohra groups who splintered off between 1426 (the Jaffari Bohras) and 1977 (The Progressive Dawoodi Bohras). And that is the simplified version.

Schisms in Christianity usually concern doctrine or religious practices, but in Islam it is the recognition of leaders that has caused division. Emphasis varies, but doctrine and religious practice are largely consistent, so the Dawoodi Bohra still regard themselves as part of the Ismaili branch of Shia Islam. /p>

Street of traditional Dawoodi Bohra Houses, Siddhpur

In matters of prayer and dress Dawoodi Bohra are conservative, the men traditionally wear a white tunic over white trousers with a white and golden cap while woman wear a two-piece outfit called a rida – a little red riding hood dress - in any colour except black.

Two Dawoodi Bohra women in rida - one white, one red - and three men in traditional white costume

In other matters they are relatively liberal, women have more autonomy than in most Indian communities and the Bohras are open to any aspect of modern/Western culture not specifically forbidden.

Bohras are relatively affluent, but not all the old buildings are inhabited or in good condition and from some angles Siddhpur resembles a run-down Indian version of Bath.

Not all houses are in good repair, Siddhpur

Few tourists come this way; if they did owners might capitalise on their interest, but the buildings are not necessarily valued and some have been demolished, their modern replacements adding little to the town’s ambience.

A modern building taking the place of a demolished traditional dwelling, Siddhpur

Bank Minas

As we walked down the main street of the Dawoodi Bohra quarter…

Main street, Dawoodi Bohra quarter, Siddhpur

…. flocks of mina birds jostled among the traffic and around food sources. The common mina lives up to its name in India and throughout south Asia, but it does not usually flock like this, and its plumage is darker. Minas, I discover are almost as diverse as Islamic sects; there are 9 species of ‘true’ minas and another 17 ‘jungle and hill’ minas. These, I am fairly confident, are bank minas, limited to central India they are often found in flocks in cities.

Bank Minas, Siddhpur

Rudra Mahalaya Temple, Siddhpur

Vijay grabbed a tuk-tuk and after weaving through the traffic, pedestrians and mina birds for a few hundred metres we reached the remains of the thousand-year-old Rudra Mahalaya. The temple, skulking behind a wire fence, was guarded by a grim-faced man sitting on a plastic chair amid the rubble and long grass. Clearly this was not an ordinary ruin.

Rudra Mahalaya

Vijay proved as good with grim-faced guardians as he had been with smiling matriarchs yesterday, the padlock was removed and we were allowed in – on the strict condition that we took no photographs.

Columns in the Rudra Mahalaya - I was well out of sight of the guardian, so conditions did not apply

Building was started in 943 by Mularaja the founder of the Chaulukya Dynasty who ruled much of Gujarat and Rajasthan for 300 years. It was renovated in 1142 by his descendant Jayasimha Siddharaja, who made the town his capital and gave it his name. Gujarat was annexed by the Islamic Delhi Sultanate in the early 14th century and the temple was desecrated. 100 years later the Sultan of Gujarat destroyed part of the temple and converted the rest into a mosque.

Dome, Rudra Mahalaya, Siddhpur

The building has deteriorated over the last 600 years, but the reason for the fence and the guardian is that the site is claimed by both Hindus and Muslims. The BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party) who form the governments of both India and the state of Gujarat are Hindu nationalists. They often promote such conflicts, and the Muslims generally respond in kind. Gandhi was a devout Hindu, but fought (non-violently) for a secular, inclusive India and I would respectfully suggest both sides remember that.

Patan

The district capital, Patan is a 40min drive to the east. With 140,000 inhabitants it is twice the size of Siddhpur and equally (possibly more) ancient. Patan was first fortified in 745CE by Vanraj Chavda, a king of the Chavda dynasty who would lose out to the Chaulukyas 200 years later.

There was, however nothing ancient about the restaurant where we had lunch. In the shadow of a fly-over, we ate paneer handi, an 'everyday' curry named after the vessel it is cooked in, mopped up with a kulcha.

Ran Ki Vav

The Ran Ki Vav (the Queen’s Stepwell), Patan’s greatest gift from history, sits in its own park on the northeast edge of the built-up area.

Turn left for the stepwell, Ran Ki Vav Park, Patan

27m deep and 64m long, it consists of a well and a tank to hold surplus water.

Ran Ki Vav, Patan

Ancient texts suggest it was commissioned in 1063 and completed in 1083 by Queen Udyamati in memory of her husband the Chaulukya King Bhima I. Udyamati and Bhima were the grandparents of Siddharaja who named Siddhpur. The Ran Ki Vav is older and considerably larger than the Adalaj stepwell near Ahmedabad, and we thought that was enormous.

The well, Ran Ki Vav, Patan

Sometime in the middle ages, Ran Ki Vav was flooded by the nearby Saraswati River, silted up and, despite its size, forgotten. It was rediscovered in 1940 and was the subject of a major excavation and restoration by the Indian Archaeological Survey in the 1980s.

It is not until you start descending the steps…

Into Ran Ki Vav, Patan

….you realise the abundance and the quality of the carvings.

Carvings, Ran Ki Vav, Patan

Many gods are represented but Vishnu, as himself and in the guise of several avatars, is the most important here.

Vishnu (I think) Ran Ki Vav, Patan

There are female figures, too, goddesses, particularly Parvati, apsaras (dancing spirits of the clouds and waters) nagakanyas (the protecting daughters of the serpent) and yoginis (yoga practitioners).

Female figures, Ran Ki Vav, Patan

Obviously Ran Ki Vav was more than just somewhere to fetch water. Stepwells were places to meet and perform ceremonies. They can, perhaps be thought of as inverted temples.

The stepwell as an upside down temple, Ran Ki Vav, Patan

The Sun Temple at Modhera

45mins down the road is the small town/big village of Modhera. It claims to be even older than Siddhpur and Patan, citing the visit of Lord Rama who came here to perform yagna and cleanse the sin of killing Ravana while rescuing his abducted wife Sita. We have intersected this story from the Ramayana several times on our travels, in Sri Lanka where Ravana took Sita and in Rameswaram at the Indian end of the once passable Adam’s Bridge between India and Sri Lanka. Modhera is geographically the least likely place to insert itself into the myth.

Moving from myth to history, the Sun Temple, built on the village’s western edge by Bhima I - the ruler commemorated by the Patan stepwell - firmly links Modhera with the Chaulukya Dynasty. No precise construction date can be given though the style is typically early 11th century. Shortly after succeeding his uncle in 1022, Bhima was faced with an invasion by Mahmud of Ghazni. The Muslim Ghaznavid empire ruled present day Afghanistan, western Iran, most of Pakistan and parts of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan so they were formidable opponents. After retreating from his capital, Bhima made an unsuccessful stand at Modhera in 1024 or 25. Mahmud destroyed whatever religious buildings were here and continued south, plundering, massacring and desecrating temples before heading home with his loot. It is believed the present temple was built shortly after he left.

Sun Temple, Modhera

The temple has three sections, at the front is the Kunda, a large tank or reservoir. I would call it a stepwell - it looks exactly like those in Rajasthan if not in Gujarat. The locals describe the structure below the tower (foreground below) as a stepwell, but it is not separate from the main tank.

The Kunda, Modhera Sun Temple

Above the Kunda and in front of the Sabhamandapa (assembly hall) are two pillars…

The pillars of the kirti-torana, Modhera Sun Temple

… all that remains of a kirti-torana (triumphal arch).

All the cool kids get to go through the kirti-torana
Lynne and Vijay, Modhera Sun Temple

The Sadhamanpada is octagonal, the dome supported by eight columns linked with torana - decorated cusped arches rising from the lower brackets of the pillars. We had previously noticed these in the Friday Mosque in Ahmedabad; they are a frequent feature of Gujarati temple architecture, equally popular among Muslims, Hindus and Jains.

Inside the Sadhamnadaapa, Mohera Sun Temple

Behind is the rectangular Gudhamandapa (shrine hall). The temple was dedicated to the sun god, Surya but as it is now a historical monument rather than a functioning temple, the shrine is empty.

Into the Gudhamandapa, Modhera Sun Temple

The external carving on the Gudhamandapa is impressive…

The Gudhamandapa, Modhera Sun Temple

…and contains a small representation of the ‘Churning of the Ocean of Milk’, my favourite story from the Mahabharata. It has its own post which now includes this speciment. It is eroded enough to perhaps be 1,000 years old, unlike the sharp, new carving on Angkor Wat.

The Churning of the Ocean of Milk, Modhera Sun Temple

On to Bajana

We continued south to Bajana, en route passing a family on the move.

Just part of a family on the move, near Bajana

Bajana is a small village with a shiny new mosque and a freshly painted Hindu temple. Those two buildings apart, it is a scruffy, broken down place.

Bajana

A few miles further on the car was rocked by an explosion as we passed a lorry going the opposite way. Fortunately, there was more sound than fury and looking back we could see that one of the lorry’s tyres had disintegrated.

The Royal Safari Camp, a short distance further, consisted of a semi-circle of comfortable bungalows, an admin block and restaurant.

Those who have read the previous post will know that the combination lock on our suitcase malfunctioned this morning. We had just enough time before dinner to work through from 000 until we found its new self-chosen combination. It did not take long, doing a couple of hundred each and resting sore fingers in betwen. The hundreds tumbler, we found, had set itself one higher, meaning we were worryingly close to 999 and beginning to wonder what to do if this approach failed, when it sprang open. What we would have done faced with four tumblers rather than three is a question we fortunatey did not have to answer.

The buffet dinner fed to the small number of mainly European travellers required to fill the bungalows was good, as buffets go, and we retired feeling well fed.


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Location: Siddhpur, Gujarat 384151, India

Friday, 1 March 2019

Meeting the Locals: Gujarat Part 3

Gujarat: The What, Where, When and Who


India
Gujarat

This post covers day 3 of a 14-day journey around Gujarat, following our circuit of Rajasthan last year. Smaller than Rajasthan, Gujarat is about the size of the Island of Great Britain and has much the same population.

5,000 years ago, Gujarat was a centre of the Indus Valley civilization and subsequently played its part in most of the major north Indian empires. When Islamic invaders reached northern India in the 9th century Gujarat held out until 1300 when it became part of the Delhi Sultanate.

Despite the lines on the map, today we drove straight from Ahmedabad to the resort of Jambudi across the border in Rajasthan. Fortunately Vijay knew how to occupy the non-driving time

An independent Muslim sultan seized power in 1391and Gujarat maintained its independence until becoming part of the Mughal Empire in the 16th century and later the British Empire, though local rulers of a patchwork of Princely States retained considerable autonomy. At independence in 1947 Gujarat became part of the State of Bombay, becoming a state in its own right in 1960.

With a long coast line facing the Arabian sea, Gujaratis have been seafarers and international traders for millennia.

Gujarat is the home state of both Mahatma Gandhi and the current Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi.

-o0o0o-

Visiting the People of Rural Gujarat (and a Corner of Rajasthan)

At Vijay’s suggestion we reversed our programme for the next two days. Instead of driving north to Jambudi via Modhera, Patan and Siddhpur we could visit these places tomorrow and today we would meet some locals.

To Idar and Beyond

We set off north towards Gandhinagar. 23Km north of Ahmedabad, Gandhinagar is the new purpose-built state capital, but the by-pass meant we saw very little of the city before heading into the countryside beyond.

Passing a man driving cattle along the other side of the dual carriageway we were seriously impressed by the horns of some of his cows. His turban is worth a look, too.

Fine horns, fine turban, somewhere near Idar

A couple of hours from Ahmedabad we passed through the small town of Idar (pop 29,000). Idar, Vijay informed us was once a princely state and as an employee (when not being a guide) of the Maharajah of Bavnagar, he was well informed on Gujarati royalty. There were 584 (largely) self-governing Princely States in India in 1947, 40 of them in Gujarat. Some were large and important, others, like Idar, less so. Being Maharajah of Idar sounds a bit like being King of Congleton but that was not always the case.

The remarkable Lieutenant-General Sir Pratap Singh served as Maharajah of Idar from 1902-1911. He was the younger brother of the Maharajah of Jodhpur – a major Princely State - where we encountered him last year. He was Chief Minister of Jodhpur before becoming a professional soldier and fighting for the British Empire in the 2nd Afghan War, in China during the Boxer Rebellion and as a senior commander in France and Flanders in 1915/16 before being deployed to the Palestinian Mandate. In between he was regent in Jodhpur after the early death of his brother, and again after the death of his nephew. He earlier took his polo team to London for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee and riding britches have been called ‘jodhpurs’ ever since.

Sir Pratap Singh, Maharajah of Idar
Early 20th century, paint on photograph (public domain)

Beyond Idar we passed a man driving buffalo, wisely facing the on-coming traffic. From this angle it looks like man and beasts proceeding along a rural road….

Driving buffalo along a country road, north of Idar

…though a wider angle suggests it was a little scarier than that.

Another view of the same scene, seconds later

The livestock theme continued with a large mixed flock of sheep and goats…

Sheep and goats,north of Idar

…and then, with no animals but still far away from the world of Maharajah’s, two women carrying straw.

Carrying straw, north of Idar

We had been going for a little over three hours when Vijay asked L, the driver, to stop. It looked as unremarkable as any other piece of road, but Vijay clearly had something in mind. ‘Do you want to visit some tribals?’ he asked. We did.

Meeting the Locals

We followed Vijay across the fields towards the nearest house. We had an uncomfortable encounter last year in Rohet on a hotel organised ‘village safari’. The Brahmin guide told us at great length how important and spiritual Brahmin’s were and how lucky we were to have a Brahmin guide, then showed off his Bishnoi neighbours as though they were zoo animals. We hoped (and expected) this would be different; Vijay’s quiet confidence promised a much better experience than the Brahmin’s smug self-importance.

Our car is parked by the road, and I am following Vijay (though from the front, apparently)

The first visit did not go particularly well. We were invited in and seated ourselves on charpoys, but everybody except the man of the house hid in the back room. The man himself was somewhat taciturn, so we soon thanked him and left.

I did ask before taking the photo, but he still looks less than delighted

Walking another 100m across the fields to the next dwelling we met a very different welcome and were immediately ushered inside.

The house was a simple construction, the walls of mud and stone, and the roof – supported by roughly shaped branches of trees – was of thatch partially covered in aged, not quite haphazardly laid, pantiles. The floor was packed mud.

Round the back of the next house
There was no sign of electricity, but could that be a telephone line?

A pump stood in the yard but inside there was no running water and no electricity, light coming only through the open door and a hole in the roof – rain was months away.  Western prejudices might have suggested we expect otherwise, but our first impression was of orderliness and cleanliness. The mud floor was freshly swept, indeed groomed, the many shadowy corners that could have harboured dust and cobwebs had none and the family’s charpoys were neatly aligned, the bedding and spare clothing tidied away.

The kitchen occupying one end of the room was equally spotless. Gleaming cooking vessels sat on a stone surface, buckets perched on a plastic water barrel and a wall-rack held smaller cooking utensils and the family’s metal plates and cups. A row of tiny china tea-cups hung below the rack immediately below their saucers. The hearth and fire wood were in the alcove behind.

The matriarch had never met Vijay before, but talked and laughed with him as though he was her oldest friend and they had months of catching up to do. Vijay translated whenever he could, interrupting the torrent of words, and we were able to ask a few questions.

Times were not easy, she said, but her husband and oldest son were policemen so they had a reliable income. Fetching water was a chore as the ground water was salty and the pump gave water for washing (and possibly cooking) but not for drinking. She had rarely left the area, but was content with her life as she had all she needed around her. She had little curiosity about the outside world and asked us no questions (well, you might as well come from Mars, Vijay said).

Immensely proud of her family, she lined up her daughters, daughters-in-law and available grandchildren for a photo.

The whole family - the matrarch still laughing, still talking so slightly blurred

As we left one the daughters-in-law was fetching water and Lynne was soon pressed into service to do the pumping. After tasting the water I can vouch for its extreme saltiness.

Lynne pumps up the water

Back in the car I asked Vijay why he had referred to these people as ‘tribals’; were they, I wondered, a particular ethnic group? ‘No,’ he said (and these are not necessarily his exact words) ‘tribals was not accurate, they are the same as everybody else, they are people who have just been left behind.’

Left behind or not, I have rarely met such a cheerful and friendly group. Happiness and contentment do not, of course, come from possessions; far more important is the relationships you have with those around you. She also felt she had all she needed, which is easier to feel if you do not know what other people have. Some possessions would certainly enhance all their lives; if they had electricity, lights, a fridge and ceiling fan would do that. And a television would tell them about all the things others have and take for granted, and that might be the end of contentment. The women may live isolated lives, but with two policemen in the family the outside world cannot but seep in.

They can, and doubtless do, visit the nearby village, which is what we did next. It was market day and fans, fridges and TVs were there to be seen by everyone. They may be contented now, but I doubt the next generation will opt for a life of such simplicity.

The market at the nearby village

Wildwinds Resort, Jambudi

We reached our destination in time for a late lunch. The austere beauty of the rolling, arid hills was not enhanced by the Wildwinds Resort, indeed it is hard to imagine any landscape it would enhance.

The Widwinds Resort, Jambudi

The rooms, more accurately apartments, made up two sides of a square while reception, offices and the restaurant formed the other two. The exteriors might have been ugly, but the interior design was clean and modern if rather anonymous. With, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room and three televisions we had more than we needed.

So why has this ugly resort been plonked down among these hills, miles from anywhere? Simples! Gujarat has prohibition and Wildwinds is 200m across the state boundary in Rajasthan. We had the restaurant to ourselves for lunch; the paneer curry was acceptable but the beer was the best bottle of Kingfisher ever.

More Locals

After lunch we re-joined Vijay who suggested L drive us into the hills to meet more locals, an idea we would have welcomed even if there was something else to see round here.

Following the small road that had brought us to Wildwinds further north and a little deeper into Rajasthan, L parked at what Vijay deemed a likely spot and we followed a rough footpath up the hill.

We walked up the hillside from the road

The arid countryside did not look promising, but some fields were prepared for planting and the wandering livestock looked healthy. We reached a dwelling and a young woman came to the gate to talk to us. She was friendly, but on her own in the house and did not feel she could let us in, which was understandable.

100m further on we reached another house where we were invited in for a brief tour, though our host declined to be photographed. The concrete floor, ceiling fan and corrugated iron roof suggested they were better off than our friends of the morning, or at least more acquainted with modern times.

A concrete floor, ceiling fans and a corrugated iron roof.

Leaving the house, we passed a strange looking tree. It was the third or fourth we had seen and my initial thought was that the trees had a parasite, but that was way off. The tree is stuffed with hay, it was a way of storing animal fodder without the need for an expensive barn.

Animal fodder stored in a tree

I had thought we would find few dwellings in these arid hills but India is densely populated (a 50% higher density than the UK) and looking across to the opposite hillside we could see it thickly dotted with houses and shacks.

Dwellings dotted about the opposite hillside.

Across the road we were invited into another house. Our smiling host was surrounded by her grandchildren and said she wanted nothing else in life but this. She threw five of them onto a charpoy for a photograph. They were lively happy children, but when she ran through their ages, each one was a year, or even two, older than they looked.

Five grandchildren on a charpoy

She had seven pre-school grandchildren, so I had to a photograph the other two - and their grandmother and the mother of the youngest.

Youngest grandchildren, smiling Granny and the mother of the youngest

We met several other families who for various reasons could not invite us in, but nobody appeared hostile or suspicious, indeed everybody greeted us with smiles. This tells us much about the locals but some of the credit must also go to Vijay; he treated all with openness and respect and we were treated the same way in return.

All the people we met spoke Gujarati. From the late 1950s onwards, Indian states have been restructured along linguistic line, Gujarat being formed in 1960 by separating the Gujarati speaking north of the former Bombay State from the Marathi speaking south. The process is still ongoing, but this corner of Hindi speaking Rajasthan clearly speaks Gujarati.

Children were returning from school as we left, bowling hoops down the road as they went.

Bowling hoops in the road

Dinner and Breakfast at Wildwinds

Back at the resort we found the lure of legal alcohol was limited. It was Friday night and apart from a young Indian couple we were the only people there. We dined, as we lunched, alone but with a beer.

02-Mar-2019

Breakfast was chaotic. At first there were no staff, then a man turned up and produced tea and fruit. Later bread and butter arrived and, in the fullness of time, an omelette.

Scary Incident with a Suitcase

Before going to breakfast the combination lock on one of our suitcases made a strange crunch when Lynne closed it. Returning to our room we found it would not open. Like all such cases there is a keyhole intended to allow access by customs authorities. The collected wisdom of the internet says it is easy to pick, but having lived sheltered lives we doubted we had the necessary skill, and indeed we didn’t.

The lock has three tumblers so, given time it should be possible to try every combination, starting at 000 and finding the answer before 999. Unfortunately, we did not have time. 200m from the hotel we had to re-enter dry Gujarat, and there was a barrier and two men with official armbands lounging in the shade waiting to leap out and check the rare cars that came down that road. In our hold-all we had a bottle of Old Monk rum and one of Maqintosh’s (sic) whisky, but the liquor permit allowing me, as a foreigner to possess these forbidden delights was firmly locked in an un-openable suitcase.

L, out driver, was at reception waiting to drive us across the border to the small town of Ambaji and pick up Vijay from his lodging. I explained the problem as we checked out, and we soon found the hotel staff were keener to help pick our lock than they had been to serve breakfast. It was, I suppose, encouraging, if unhelpful, to find their lock-picking skills were as underdeveloped as ours.

There was nothing for it, we would have to talk or bribe our way into Gujarat – or have the next ten days' nightcaps confiscated.

Lock picking. The Hotel staff show plenty of enthusiasm but no expertise

We drove to the border. L slowed down, one of men with armbands rose from his chair and walked towards us. I looked him in the eye and smiled and he waved us through.



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Location: Ambaji, Gujarat 385110, India
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