Nine Forts in Nine Days

Most foreigners who visit Rajasthan don’t come on employment visas. They come as tourists, eager to see the state’s renowned forts and palaces. Because I’m one of the few foreigners actually working here, I don’t have much time for typical Rajasthan tour, which involves traveling from place to place and viewing monuments ad nauseum. Most of the trips that I’ve written about on this blog have been weekend excursions to a single city. However, all of that changed recently when my parents and brother came to visit. They were complete, 100-percent tourists, and for a couple weeks, I was a tourist with them. For me, “tourist” sometimes seems like a dirty word; it brings up images of clueless, camera-clad white people in culturally inappropriate clothing who wander around with no idea what’s going on. A tourist is the last thing I want to be. But sometimes I am one, and there’s no avoiding it without staying home.

The best way to describe what it’s like to go sightseeing in Rajasthan is to share one simple fact: during my family’s visit, we visited a fort every day for nine straight days. These nine forts represent a variety of different styles, displaying the rich and colorful history of Rajasthan. I should note that the first three are in Delhi and Agra, which aren’t part Rajasthan but are often included in the same itinerary.

Day One: Old Fort, Delhi

The main thing you need to know about Old Fort is right there in the name. It’s really old. According to rumors, there have been fortifications on the site for over 5000 years, and archaeological excavations have unearthed artifacts dating back to 1000 BCE.  Most of the fort’s current structures were built in the 16^th century by the Mughal Emperor Humayun, and by Sher Khan, who defeated Humayun in 1540 and founded the short-lived Sur Dynasty. The fort is laid out in the typical Mughal style, with high, straight walls around smaller sandstone and marble buildings on a grassy lawn. The interior feels more like a park than a military installation, and it would make a nice picnic spot.

Qila-i-Kuna Mosque in Delhi’s Old Fort

Day Two: Red Fort, Delhi

Delhi does a good job of labeling its forts by their most prominent characteristics. A wall of red sandstone surrounds Red Fort, which is Old Delhi’s most distinguishing landmark. It was constructed in the 17^th century by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, who is best known for commissioning the Taj Mahal in honor of his late wife. The fort was the centerpiece of his new capital, an incarnation of Delhi that he humbly called Shahjahanbad. Red Fort is better preserved than Old Fort and generally better looking. Shah Jahan’s reign is often considered the pinnacle of Mughal architecture.  The fort has ornately carved marble buildings, and a four-sectioned symmetrical garden (known as a charbagh) with shade and fountains.

They call it Red Fort for a reason.

A pillar with colorful stones inlaid in marble

A symmetrical four-sectioned garden, known as a charbagh

Day Three: Agra Fort, Agra

Agra Fort is so similar to Red Fort that a taxi driver once tried to convince us it wasn’t worth seeing. It has the same sort of red sandstone wall around symmetrical marble and sandstone structures. However, Agra Fort has a distinct advantage—a stunning view of the Taj Mahal. Often this view distracts from the fort itself. Agra Fort existed throughout the Mughal era, but it was renovated by Emperor Akbar in the 16^th century and then again by Emperor Shah Jahan in the 17^th century. After Shah Jahan’s son imprisoned him in the fort, the former emperor was kept in a tower where he could spend every day gazing at the Taj Mahal, which was not only his most famous accomplishment but also the tomb of his beloved wife.

A view of the Taj Mahal from Agra Fort

A garden inside the fort walls

The Taj Mahal, as seen from Agra Fort

Day Four: Amer Fort, Jaipur

Amer Fort serves as an effective transition from Mughal to Rajput architecture. Of all of the Rajput rulers, those from what is now Jaipur shared the closest alliance with the Mughals, and that connection heavily influenced their style of building. Constructed in the 16^th century by Maharaja Man Singh I, who was so close to Emperor Akbar that he commanded the Mughal Army, the fort has many Mughal features, such as large, open courtyards and pillared halls of private and public audience. Many tourists, especially foreigners, choose to ride elephants up the zigzagging path to the fort’s main entrance.

Amer Fort

Elephants wait at the bottom the hill.

A painted elephant takes tourists up the path to the fort.

Monkeys on top of Amer Fort

More monkeys

Day Five: Taragarh, Bundi

Bundi is one of India’s hidden gems, especially compared to the bustling Golden Triangle of Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur. For most of the time my family and I spent at Taragarh, which sits on a hill above the city, we were the only people up there. The lack of tourist traffic correlates with a lack of upkeep, but the fort’s decaying nature adds to the excitement of exploring it. Troops of rhesus macaques wander through the overgrown, dilapidated buildings and drink from the mostly dried-up step wells. Because there are so few people, the monkeys aren’t very aggressive and don’t normally harass you for food, but just to be safe, a stand at the bottom of the hill provides sticks for fending them off. Unlike the other forts we visited, Taragarh has no informative placards, so I’m not sure when or why it was built. A visit to the fort is more of an adventure than an educational experience. And the view from the top is spectacular.

Abandoned buildings at Taragarh

A dried up step well

A monkey runs along the ramparts.

Looking wistful

Someone get this monkey some Prozac.

Day Six: Chittorgarh, Chittorgarh

Chittorgarh, the largest fort in India, occupies an entire plateau above a flat plain. It’s so large that it comprises its own city, and over 4,000 people live within the original walls. Built in the 7^th century, it eventually became the capital of Mewar kingdom. The fort was taken three times in its history, and each time, the inhabitants carried out the gruesome Rajput tradition of jauhar, in which the men rode into battles that they had no hope of winning while the women and children burned themselves to death in order to avoid dishonor at the hands of the enemy. After the last defeat, brought on by the Mughal Emperor Akbar and Maharaja Man Singh I of Amer, Chittorgarh was abandoned, and the capital of the Mewar kingdom eventually shifted to Udaipur. Even though the fort is primarily known for defeat, its predominant landmark is called Vijay Stambha, the Tower of Victory. It’s an intricately carved column built by Maharana Kumbha of Mewar. Visitors can climb to the top for a scenic view of the city and the countryside below.

The Tower of Victory

Temples at Chittorgarh

Day Seven: Sajjangarh, Udaipur

Sajjangarh, also known as the monsoon palace, was the fortified mountain retreat of the rulers of Mewar, built by Maharana Sajjan Singh in the 19^th century. Even though it wasn’t used explicitly for military purposes, its name has the suffix “garh,” so I’ll still count it as a fort. The structure is mostly empty these days, but it provides an excellent view of Udaipur’s lakes and mountains. It also gets points for serving as the lair of a Bond villain in the movie Octopussy.

Sajjangarh

Monkeys near Sajjangarh, with a view over Lake Pichola

Day Eight: Kumbhalgarh, Rajsamand

The ancient Mewar kindgdom had a thing for hilltop forts with striking views. Built by Maharana Kumbha in the 15^th century, Kumbhalgarh sits on a remote peak in the Aravali Range. Its 36-kilometer outer wall, which snakes over the nearby hills, is supposedly the world’s second largest fortification, after the Great Wall of China. The fort area contains hundreds of temples and a lot of rugged terrain for exploring.

Kumbhalgarh

Day Nine: Mehrangarh, Jodhpur

A trip to Rajasthan can easily lead to fort fatigue, but Mehrangarh is an instant cure. It towers over the blue houses of Jodhpur’s old city, emerging grandly and seamlessly from the earth below. Hands down, it’s the best fort I’ve seen in India, although living in Jodhpur might make me a bit biased. At least TIME Magazine agrees with me. They named it Asia’s Best Fortress in 2007. Within its imposing exterior, Mehrangarh contains well-preserved interior palaces with intricate stone latticework, and the fort museum is clear and organized, a rarity in India.  Built by Jodhpur’s namesake Rao Jodha in 1459 and improved by subsequent Maharajas, the stronghold has never been forcibly overcome.

Bringing my family there made for a suitable end to our trip. For the last several months, Mehrangarh has been a constant presence in my life. Every building in Jodhpur has an accessible rooftop, and every rooftop has a view of the fort. It forms a constant backdrop for my experiences, both my outings as a tourist and, more frequently, my daily pursuits as a working resident.

Mehrangarh

Ful Mahal (Flower Palace)

Moti Mahal (Pearl Palace)

Mehrangarh at sunset

The Least Informative Museum I’ve Ever Visited

The Sardar Government Museum is hands-down the least informative museum I’ve ever visited. I spent an hour browsing its dimly lit displays, and I saw many wonderful and fascinating artifacts that would not have been out of place at the Louvre or the Met. But I had almost no idea what they were.

Before my visit, I read in my Lonely Planet guide that the Sardar Museum was “frozen in the 19^th century” with “ill-labelled exhibits in dusty cabinets.” I soon found that ill-labelled was an understatement. Each exhibit had a single placard with a cryptically brief description in blunt capital letters. For instance, “METAL WORK” or “DIFFERENT KINDS OF LOCKS.”  Any further information was nowhere to be found, possibly lost forever.

The first room I entered was full of pitiful and disturbing taxidermy, including a humongous crocodile, some sort of horned buck, and a pair of tigers positioned in a fierce wrestling match.  The tigers were labelled twice, with one label reading, “TWO TIGERS FIGHTING,” and another reading, “TWO LIONS FIGHTING.”

Two tigers fighting, or maybe two lions. It depends on which label you’re reading.

But the stuffed birds were by far the worst. Either they were prepared sloppily—possibly while still alive—or the ravages of time had taken a severe toll.  None of the specimens bore much resemblance to actual, living avifauna. Feathers were sticking out in all directions, the colors had faded to putrid shades of brown, and many species were lacking eyes or other crucial parts. One dove was entirely missing its head.

Behind a case of mutilated birds, I saw a man sitting cross-legged and eating his lunch. His uniform suggested he was a museum guard. I nodded hello, but he barely registered my existence.

The other rooms were an improvement, at least in terms of content. One was filled with antique knives and rifles, another had carvings of shell, stone, and ivory, and a third displayed statues of Hindu gods dating back to 11^th and 12^th centuries.

The most intriguing exhibit was a case of about fifty figurines representing different scenarios. It was labeled, “THE SOCIAL LIFE OF MARWAR.”  According to the display, typical activities in the Marwar region included plowing fields, playing games, and having your livestock get viciously mauled by tigers. I would have been very interested in learning more about Marwari social life, but as I mentioned earlier, providing information was not a strength of the Sardar Museum.

For a child in Marwar, having an active social life means playing on a see-saw. For a cow,  it means getting violently devoured by predator.

When I reached a display of blue and white ceramics labelled “POTTRY,” I saw two female guards lying flat on the ground. I watched them for signs of breathing, worried that they had died from heat or boredom, and was relieved to see that they made a few slight movements. Like the guard from the taxidermy room, they paid no attention to me.

The highlight of the museum was a miniature golden swing, adorned with images of peacocks and human figures. It seemed like a tremendously valuable item, but the display gave no explanation of its background or significance. Who had owned it? Why was it built? What was it used for?

All of the objects in the Sardar Museum were surrounded with an air of mystery, giving them a certain allure that’s not present in larger, better curated institutions. Aside from the taxidermy room, the museum was kind of charming (although it was most likely haunted by feathered ghosts upset their corpses had been mistreated, like some sort of perverse combination of The Birds and Poltergeist). Normally when I visit a museum, I spend as much time reading about the exhibits as I do looking at them, but the Sardar Museum lets the objects speak for themselves. This minimalist approach might be unintentional, but strangely, it works.

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I wasn’t sure if photography was allowed in the museum, so I made a game of trying to take photos without being noticed. Given the fatigue and apathy of the guards, it wasn’t much of a challenge:

I think “Nagour” is supposed to be “Nagaur,” a nearby city in Rajasthan:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagaur

Why is there a creepy skull on a candlestick? We may never know.

NOTE: Photos of the bird taxidermy were too grotesque to even consider including in this post.