Madhya Pradesh – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

November 19, 2020November 20, 2020

At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

At the end of the Lockdown outings had meant going for drives. Like happy little puppies literally, with our nozzled noses at the window, hair (not ears) flying in the wind, it was sheer bliss being out of the house, seeing the world with new eyes! Slightly scarred by months of indoors, anywhere out was good with me! Having reached Mhow during the monsoon a visit to Jam Darwaza was a De rigueur and to be any more ‘out’ from there one would be off the Malwa plateau! We decided to catch the sun rise for a change at Jam Darwaza. It meant being up before five, which is not my favourite cup of tea, waking up a surprisingly agreeable teenager and getting the real tea organized. On the winding drive in the dark we overtook a large herd of sheep on the road with their herders. I had seen these Gadarias (as they are known in these parts) a few days back outside Indore on the highway. It had been a sight to see the traffic stop to let the women, setting out to follow the men, cross with their camels. I had wished I could meet these nomads.

No visit to Malwa is complete visit without seeing- Mandu and Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

Since it was built around 1790-91, during the reign of Ahilya Bai Holkar, the double storied arched Jam Darwaza straddling the road going down to the Nimar plains from the Malwa plateau has been a solitary sentinel and proverbial gateway. Named after a hamlet nearby with a blink and miss fortress at one end and a chhatri at the other end of a pond, the structure has been a favourite drive-to destination, to catch sunsets over a cuppa, watch the villages below light up mirroring the sky above, dark forests giving way to light fields, lakes dotting the countryside, to feel a bit at world’s end.

Nearing Jam Darwaza that morning, I noticed a herders’ camp right at the end of the plateau being wound up. What a dream campsite! The old gate and the craggy slopes at the bend were all but a silhouette in the faint light of dawn when our headlights fell on another lot of men and their sheep making their way through the arch. I was taken aback to see couple of cars already parked at the Darwaza at that ungodly hour. Billion plus population has to show, the sardonic teenager commented from the back seat. Youngsters wanting to set Insta on fire with visuals of a flaming sunrise at Jam! The excellent new road and a burgeoning population now ensures the Darwaza has a incessant stream of temporary visitors and hawkers, and permanent company of makeshift shops and half constructed loos blocking the best view. Who will sit on that throne and stare at a wall imagining the scenery beyond? Having contemplated such profound issues over tea and being ditched by a sun not allowed to keep his date by dour clouds we started back. We ran into the caravan of camels and women hitting the road.

Read what must be had with tea in- Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

Standing on the road I spied a girl cut across the dip of a dry stream, lanky mutt in tow from the camp site. By the time I asked the young boy leading the camels if I could take a photograph she was there, teasing him while he looked bashfully around. “Selfie loge?”,(Will you take a selfie?) she asked, throwing me off kilter. Et tu? I noticed lipstick and bindi on a scrubbed face. I would rather have taken her photograph alone. She turned self conscious as I obliged, my morning face ruining the frame. The other girl leading the second camel had been smiling indulgently. Totally self composed, beautiful with an open inquisitive look she didn’t look a day above 18. The caravan swayed forward as I stepped back on the side and took a video. Chatting with me without breaking their quickening stride the next question was if I was going to make a music video leaving me slightly nonplussed. I was quickly getting the impression that this encounter might be my first but definitely not theirs.

The young boy and the two girls set off at a quick pace after being photographed. The following women and girls passed by, chatting on the move, seemingly used to taking folks like me in their stride. The younger eyes dancing with amusement, the older ones more weary, smiling more guardedly. All dressed in traditional finery – upper arms covered with bangle sets, solid silver anklets, big nose pins on some, heads covered, hands firmly on their hips leading the camels lassoed around their shoulders. Whoever says ‘striding’ is masculine needs to see these women walk -fast yet graceful; dark, full skirts swishing with each step. Their camels swaying with their own rhythm, loaded with precious belongings- giant cots upside down holding bleating lambs, emaciated hounds, and sleepy kids. The stragglers, still at the now almost wound up camp, being loaded and coaxed to rise for another day, another long walk.

Discover easier yet engaging walking spots in – The Gardens of Delhi -A walk not only on the green side but through history itself

Driving home we encountered the other group of herders we’d crossed in the dark earlier. The white tunics and dhotis and cardinal red turbans of the mustachioed men adding a bright dash to the black fallow undulating fields amidst hillocks covered with flowering teak, flame of the forest and mahua trees, all washed and nourished to shades of green by last night’s shower. The shorn herd of sheep, in shades of black and white, moved en mass with the odd lamb frisking about. A sharp whistle was all the communication needed between the herdsman and his huddle.

While at Mhow explore- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

While travelling to new destinations has been quarantined the last few months one discovered that just being on the road can be an experience into itself. And maybe we got it wrong! Wishes are not horses, they may be camels and I may not want to ride them but hopefully one day I’ll walk with them and these nomads, true blue, always on the move travellers, on that winding path through that Darwaza and it will be a whole new way to see the road less travelled.

April 9, 2020April 27, 2020

Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

Zipping on a fantastic road, through the teak forest with the odd Flame of the Forest adding that dash of colour, from Jhansi towards “Hidden” Orchha, we have had a latish start, so I don’t get to see the famed chhatris (or cenotaphs) either at sunset (as originally planned) or at sunrise…oh well God proposes and lazy man disposes. If India has its own standard time which has a certain time lag, it seems Madhya Pradesh is in a time lapse mode.. Ah! That explains the time warp feeling…

Read some more timeless tales in- An Ode to Ancient Life in Stone- The UNESCO World Heritage Site of Ajanta & Ellora

Picnic Breakfast with a View

Ethereal cenotaphs, ephemeral reflections

We head straight for the park on the bank of the Betwa opposite the chhatris. It is deserted and we put our packed breakfast, picked up from a shop on the main thoroughfare, on a bench close to the waters. We soak in the sight of the ethereal chhatris by the ghats on the Betwa, their ephemeral reflections bathing in the river, the clouds behind in retreat. A huge kingfisher breaks the silence of the cool morning as we sit down to sip our tea and help ourselves to the hot jalebis and pohas. We spy massive vultures nesting on the slender spires of the chhatris, their colouring making them seem like living extensions of the carvings.

Read tea tales & more in-Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

Wildlife Discovers Us

Then pandemonium ensues. Two langurs decide to join us for breakfast. To be fair they are polite…,at first, sitting in companionable silence with the husband as he wolfs his poha. The cousin and I jump around, as she has had a run in with a boorish one as a child and isn’t too keen to renew the acquaintance. Just then three-four more lope in to make it a party. I put my plate down on the bench and back off as I get dirty looks from one and then they proceed to sit there and dine on our breakfast, technically theirs now, as we stand at a safe distance and wring our empty hands. The cousin’s husband, the hungrier and smarter one, has already had round one of breakfast at the shop itself. There is nothing left to do but to wait…and clean up after them!

Flying…oops, Cycling in the Jungle

Giving up on breakfast as a bad joke (Entirely on us!) we get on to our next agenda- cycling through the sanctuary. It is an island spread over 40 square kms and is home to a variety of animals and birds. We get off to a wobbly start on a well marked trail and the path is gravelly and clean. The cousin feebly protests that she doesn’t know cycling but I remember (from twenty years back) otherwise. The route is undulating, the forest sparse and rocky but devoid of any undergrowth. The only animal we spot is the dog who decides to go for his morning run with us. With each winding curve we gain confidence till one downward one, where the cousin decides to leave not only the path but terra firma too. The flight is short, the landing hard and noisy. No serious damage done, we decide that we’ve had enough adventures for the day and while we are in one piece, it is time to head to sedate civilization back across the causeway.

Read about other cycling adventures in- Cycling in Dehradun – The Best Routes for Leisure Rides

Melancholic Monuments

A leisurely stroll across the emerald river skipping over the rocks and dipping into clear pools brings us to Kanchana Ghat. The sepulchral chhatris built between the 16th and 17th century tower around us. Built in the signature style of Bundelkhand where Mughal influence meets Rajput architecture, there are 14 of them spread around the ghat where the erstwhile rulers of Orchha were cremated. Bir Singh Deo’s, who seemed to be influenced by the Mughals, stands out not only in terms of architectural style but it also hugs the river, standing aloof while the majority huddle together inside the adjoining walled complex.

Discover the chhatris of another family in-Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

The Monumental Show

We walk into the walled enclosure with the chhatris sitting back in a laid out rose garden. The cenotaphs at Orchha are more imposing than any I have seen elsewhere. Their plain facades rise up three tiers to give way to spires and cupolas where the vultures nest. When they sit still they look like winged gargoyles but right now they are bickering with each other, showing off their magnificent size as they swoop through the garden from one melancholic monument to the other.

We then head towards the fort and the other monuments. More of that in the next installment of Outstanding Orchha.

Fact File-

There are entry charges for the park as well as the sanctuary. (Rs 25 per head for the park and the sanctuary charges depend on the mode of transportation.)

The cycles are available on hire at the ticket counter for about Rs 100.

Helmets are available with the cycles but one has to ask.

The entry ticket to the Orchha fort complex covers the entry to the walled cenotaphs too.

March 20, 2020April 27, 2020

Picture Postcards from Bundelkhand

I picturize Murphy’s Law as a pedantic bureaucrat who has no life so works overtime and holds every little slip up against you and then generally wants to throw you under the bus still for…just, it says with a shrug. It was just a weekend trip that I had in mind but Murphy’s law was working overtime. We had dilly-dallied so there were no seats available on the Shatabdi, there was no accommodation available in Orchha and then the final nail in the coffin -a flurry of travel advisories thanks to Coronavirus! But I think I had a ‘Bundelkhandi’ bee in my bonnet plus it was the last weekend before spring mothballs winter for the year and that area gets hot even in March. I’m a firm believer of the Indian calendar when it comes to seasons, although Mother Nature is in a snit, if yesterday’s hailstones are anything to go by & the blankets which had one leg outside the bedroom door are sprawled back on the bed.

O’er the river lies a palace bathing in sunlight

We finally managed to put some things in place and after nearly missing the train and getting into the wrong compartment full of foreigners, (All without masks!) which made me catch my breath, we breathed a lungful of relief when we found our seats in the next bogey, mask firmly on. Holding my breath wouldn’t have helped the holiday cause anyhow. We watched the sun’s slender fingers lift the misty veil blanketing the green wheat fields as we sped towards Jhansi.

A Shatabdi took me another place in-Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

Dawn parts the clouds to touch the green fields

A gentle breeze blows the clouds from the Chhatris of Orchha

Couple of years back from another train I had first seen the towering beautiful lines of the Datia Palace across a lake. An old family connection to it added to the lure and then a little hunting on the net had thrown up the visuals of Orchha- the Chattris by the river Betwa and the magnificent Chaturbhuj temple. Reality didn’t disappoint. Jhansi was a last minute addition. These three places on our itinerary that weekend lie in a region where the state boundaries look like the ravines of the Chambal, a maze of furrowing lines. So while Jhansi is in Uttar Pradesh, Datia and Orchha are in Madhya Pradesh but history and a common socio-cultural identity bind this entire region. Named after the Bundelas, a Rajput clan who came into prominence around the 16^th century, Bundelkhand seems to have always been given to strife and a touch of anarchy. So, no wonder that apart from kings, poets and writers like Tulsidas and Maithili Sharan Gupt it has given us figures like Mastani, Rani Lakshmibai and Phoolan Devi.

First stop -Jhansi, coming up soon…

For stories of kings and queens also read – Mandu & Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

A new story is sown in the ravines of the Chambal

January 24, 2020May 18, 2021

3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

Thank God Boney M sang “Mary’s Boy Child’ or the first carol in my first ever carol singing jaunt would have been an absolute non-starter. It had vaguely crossed my mind that apart from ’Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ and ‘Jingle Bells’ (Do they even count as carols?), I didn’t know any! Sitting in a church this Christmas eve, like good back benchers, when the carol name was called out, we frantically leafed though the hymn book looking for the said hymn and couldn’t find it. When the others sang out the first few familiar lines I shut the book and joined in lustily, relief fueled enthusiasm making up for the lack of any singing abilities.

A path to a haven is often paved and rose lined

In Mhow for a short winter break, we knew beforehand of the carol singing outing. Only I didn’t realize it was going to be in the Christ Church. So we were reminded last minute to dress up (Really? Even at this age? Indian parents are relentless!) for the occasion. As we walked through the rose bush lined driveway of the church, the white steeple shone spotlessly in the fading twilight giving way to an inky starlit night. Inside the church was lit up warmly to host the festivities, reminding us of another such evening eons back…only that had been barn!

Discover famous neighbour’s of Mhow in- Mandu & Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

At the altar of art and architecture ( Photo courtesy Prerna Mankotia)

The Church, the first in this region, had come up within a few years of John Malcolm establishing the garrison town of Mhow after the British gave a bit of a bloody nose to the Holkars in 1817 at Mehidpur. Crossing this church on the Mall Road, (You can never get lost in an old cantt as there will always be a ’Mall Road’ to take you home.) I have often admired its sky kissing lean spire, which gives the structure a haughty look as it stands with a Baobab or two for company. On the walls inside, among the many plaques, there is one with the name of the first person to be killed by a tiger in Mhow. There are carved wooden arches in a row on the vaulted ceiling. The original wooden pews with brackets, an addition after the mutiny of 1857, to hold the rifles of the soldiers are still there. The mutineers burnt the outhouse of the priest on their way to Indore but spared the main building.

Read about another town made famous by it’s queen during the mutiny in- A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi

Although, partly because of its name but mostly because of its setting- in a grove of old deodars with stain glass windows and a massive bell on the side, my all time favourite is St John in the Wilderness Church near Dharamsala. The other favourite is in Mhow- Standing alone in an expanse of brown overgrown grass, as if on a moor, without any adjoining drama. (If one doesn’t count the neighbouring hebejebeish cemetery!) The small, dark stone structure has had various names at different times – St Andrew’s church, ’Kirk’ among others and is now known as the Scottish Church. In my mind it was always ‘Scottish’. I have no idea why though, given I have never traveled to that part of the world much less been to a church there! It was a chapel originally, dating back to the 1880s and still looks timeless, bubble wrapped, untouched by the changing neighbourhood on the Post Office Road. So often we would cycle past it to Jeevan Bakery where, in the evening, the aroma wafting would reel us in and have us hooked on the still oven warm bread and buns. I would look at the church but with no desire to explore it. Full marks for curiosity, zero for bravery! Another church in Mhow which I discovered recently when I was dragged to light a candle in its grotto is St Antony’s church, in the Infantry School area, built by an Italian priest- Pius Benevento, a prolific church builder. The location maybe decided by the fact that the saint is a patron of horses and this area was called Ghod Khata or the horse stables. I found the Baobab next to it fascinating- much like a hydra trunked elephant with its massive girth. A sea of humanity during St Antony’s feast day, the church is popular with the Tamilians here.

Read about the cycling adventures in another town in- Cycling in Dehradun -The Best Routes for Leisure Rides

Mhow, all of 5 kms probably from end to end, has been such a cosmopolitan melting pot with people from all faiths and walks of life. There are numerous churches here, of all denominations, dotting the undulating vistas, catering to the spiritual needs of the Christians and the remnants of the Anglo-Indian community. The Parsis have their Agairy or Fire Temple tucked in one of the back lanes and their Tower of Silence still stands strong and proud on a ridge outside town. Bohra muslim women can be seen walking to the market mosque in their gay burkhas. The deities in the assorted temples, standing cheek by jowl with shops on the main market street, look benignly at people bustling about waiting for some to take a break from more materialist pursuits to pay obeisance. Our hometowns have their own distinctive zeitgeist. When was the last time you set out to rediscover your town’s?

Acknowledgement- A big shout out to Denzil Lobo, our resident Mhow aficionado, whose enthusiasm about anything to do with Mhow is truly infectious.

Discover stories of horses, churches and other surprises in-Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

October 6, 2019April 28, 2020

Mandu and Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

India’s large heart – Madhya Pradesh, even after being cut down to size, still occupies a chunk smack in the middle of the country. That large heart can beat wildly like Pench or as peacefully as Orchha. Mandu and Maheshwar straddle a state of being somewhere in between. They make for excellent long weekend getaways when the monsoons revive the natural beauty to emerald green and make the Narmada flow full and deep.

Discover the emerald Betwa and Orchha in- Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

Mandu – Tales of Mahals, Mausoleums & a Man-eater

The first of many trips one has made to Mandu was way back in the 80’s with three generations of the clan, like one mini Mughal army on the move, in a rickety jeep over a rutted road. The last visit was over a newly laid road good enough even for a Nano, part of a mini cavalcade now, to cater for another generation added to the expanding Mughal army! Two of my most abiding memories of that first trip were – at a waterfall overlooking a gorge being told the tale of a young trapeze artist promised a chunk of the kingdom if she managed to cross the gorge on a tightrope. As she neared the end, success nearly at her feet, the girl and the rope were cut down to size. The other, coming to know that a man-eater had just been caught at the Tarapur Darwaza the day before our arrival. It freaked me out so much that I imagined tigers outside the high vaulted airy room where we were putting up at the Taveli Mahal. (Which now houses the museum at the entrance of the Jahaz Mahal complex.) It made me oblivious to the setting of our accommodation which overlooked a lotus covered tank or the beauty around, cloaked in a misty veil much like the poetic romance of Baz Bahadur and Rani Roopmati, the chief protagonists of an abiding love story, who were proceeded and followed by others in the chequered history of a citadel said to be the largest in India.

A young Baobab gives company to an old monument

As one approaches Mandu, situated on an outcrop of the Malwa plateau, there are massive Baobab trees or ‘Khurasani Imlis’, as they are also called, maybe as a testimony to their winding journey from Africa to here, dotting the landscape. The road goes onto a narrow natural bridge before going through the first of three consecutive gates or Darwazas in a tight curve – Alamgiri, Bhangi (Yeah, sounds so politically incorrect now, but as per some stories in honour of the people proceeding an army heading out to battle.) and Delhi Darwaza, which should have made Mandu invincible but clearly didn’t, given the number of times it changed hands.

A place for the harem to perhaps frolic in the Mahal

Post monsoon is a special time to visit this place when it is emerald green, the ponds and tanks are full and the low clouds drift lazily in the breeze. Walk, hire a cycle (They are easily available.) or drive slowly and explore the green vistas and monuments that dot this place. Start at the square that makes up the bustling centre, where the barest remains of the Asharfi Mahal and austere Jami Masjid face each other. Behind the masjid is Hoshang Shah’s tomb which is supposed to have provided the template for the Taj Mahal. A short distance away, on one axis are the prehistoric Lohani caves, a part of Burra or Old Mandu and on the other, the star attraction – The Jahaz Mahal complex. Jahaz Mahal straddles a small lake and a large tank, both now devoid of the massive lotuses I remember from the first trip. Legend has it that the “Ship Palace”,(A name, if you ask me, more because of the location between the water bodies than any great resemblance to any floating vessel I know of.) housed fifteen thousand women at one time as part of the harem and hats off to the architect that the ‘jahaz’ didn’t sink! The sloping walls lend Hindola Mahal it’s name which is behind the Jahaz Mahal, and that adjoins a beautifully restored step well – The Champa Baori.

Explore palaces in- Part Two – The Old Gold in Outstanding Orchha

Baz Bahadur Mahal gazes at Roopmati Pavilion

On the far end of Mandu is Baz Bahadur’s Palace and Rewa Kund. The Kund, for some, is as sacred as the Narmada river itself. At a height, further on, right at the edge of the plateau is Rani Roopmati’s pavilion. An airy structure with a covered water reservoir was made so that the queen could see and pray to her beloved river, which seems to have shifted course or the haze obscured it or maybe I just have bad eyesight because I saw no river down in the Nimar plains. Enroute to these, but off the road are many small monuments, alone or in clusters. At one monument we saw carved blocks used upside down denoting pillaged older buildings being the source of the monument’s material. At another, a grave seemed to have walked out of the tomb only to come to rest under a tree nearby. The Neelkanth temple with it’s small courtyard is a few steps down literally carved out from a cave on the slope of the plateau and is on the road to Tarapur Darwaza.

The same darwaza where the trap had been set for the man-eating leopard, (Definitely no tiger!) one woman-eating leopard to be exact, many eons back. Mandu teems with stories and legends, real and fanciful and the only wildlife I have ever sighted has been a massive hyena, probably having the last laugh at my flighty imagination.

Find more wildlife in- Ranthambore Alert -Ticketing Trials and Tiger Trails

Weaving Sutras at Maheshwar

Maheshwar, home to the much in demand Maheshwari fabric woven there, is about an hour away from Mandu. A gentle winding road down the plateau brings us to the Nimar plains. Their blistering heat tempered by the rains right now. The faint outline of Roopmati’s pavilion is all that is visible of Mandu from below. At Maheshwar, narrow bylanes of a small town with a faintly mofussil feel, still lingering in the air, end at the Maheshwar fort. One part, which houses the private quarters of Ahilya Bai, the most famous of the Holkar rulers, has been converted into a boutique hotel by her descendants. A stone path takes us towards the ghats and we see the exquisitely carved stone spire of a temple but are just as soon distracted by the sounds of a hand loom on our left. Right there are weavers at work on the fabric so much ‘en vogue’ everywhere. The cloth & it’s colours beguiling us, we promise to come back for a more leisurely shopping experience at the end.

Read what another city has to offer in- Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

A few steps down bring us to two stunningly carved stone temples facing each other. The Ayhileshwar temple is the bigger one on the right and it’s balustrades offer a beautiful view of the ghats below and the Narmada river beyond. The ghat steps with the fort as an Insta-worthy backdrop, are the piece de resistance and invite us to just sit and let the murmur of religious incantations here and there wash over us. We soak in the serenity of the sacred river, the raison d’être of this place which runs swift and deep, carrying boatloads of people, nearly submerging a temple on a tiny island nearby. A river sutra & tales of bygone queens seems to weave a common thread & bind these two historic towns at almost gazing distance of each other.

Travel to another historic town in- A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi