6 August: Agra
We are driving through the streets of the town of Agra, which reminds me a tiny bit of Hyderabad, two-lane roads separated by a yellow and black stried concrete median newly planted with young trees. Lots of motorbikes, yellowish brown dominates the building color palette. Lots of greenery here too. We left Delhi at 7:00 a.m. and drove along the new highway to Agra. It took about 3.5 hours, maybe 4. I dozed a bit, started reading Tarquin Hall's The Case of the Deadly Butter Chicken, one of the Vish Puri mysteries. I think 5 or 6 folks in the group have read it. At this point, I will have it finished by the time we get back to Delhi.
So what's really worth noting, along with the flat flat flat green landscape of the Gangetic Plain, is the sheer awesomeness of the Red Fort here in Agra. I took notes during the tour and I'll transcribe them below.
We got off the bus around 11:00. It wasn't hot, just really humid. The feeling of rain hung heavy in the air. Two things greeted us as we descended the bus stairs: the strong stench of old urine and a vendor hawking camera memory cards. but our noses were hit with a fistful of urine in the thick air. That, and a vendor with camera memory cards. It reminded me of Myanmar, where it was actually tough to get off a bus sometimes because of all the hopefuls vying for travellers' attention. It's MASSIVE. A few focused strides brings you to the entrance of the Red Fort, and it's awe-inspiring. Our guide, Gopal, appears to be about 30, with the curious carriage of someone whose body grew a lot in a short amount of time, it's almost as though he's still getting used to his long arms and legs. He's got to be 6'5" or so, as I've only seen a handful of Indians this tall. He's got a long(ish) black ponytail, fashionably groomed sideburns and rimless black glasses, making him look somewhere between a film star, a mid-tier IT diva and a cowboy. He says he's working now on his second PhD, this one on the history of Islamic in this part of India (I think). His first one had something to do with architecture and occasioned him to visit 120 countries. I asked him the country people were least likely to know about but most needed to see. He said it was Greece, because they were the first to do x, y, and z ("use sod" was one I hadn't heard before). Still, I was disappointed, hoping to hear a travel tip to a hidden gem. No dice.
On the outside, it's easy to see how the giant Red Fort got its name. The huge stones that form the outer wall are local sandstone, ranging from blood red to caramel to coffee ice cream. You enter through a huge archway with at least 20' thick wall/gate. You can see the Mughal influence in the arches, adorned with the blue/green tile mosaics that weren't looted (or were put up to suggest what the pre-looting walls would've looked like). There are arches for the outer and inner walls, each with an upper and lower alcove built into the space. Gopal said musicians would play from there when the royal family entered or exited the fort. Another interesting side note about the entrance is that it's curved to slow the horses of would-be invaders. There are two modern security checks along that curved pathway, the first for the wand, the second for the metal detectors. In each of these, visitors are separated by gender (same at airports, malls, museums, other public places). The wide stone footpath sloping up into the fort was grooved with lines just like the cattle or deer controls we have back home. These helped prevent slipping for hoofed animals. As a final note, there were stations on one of the inner walls to pour boiling oil on invaders. Nice touch.
The compound is 5.6 kms squared. There are 500 places inside, but only 13 are on our itinerary today. Most are closed to the public, used by the Indian army. In fact, about 80% of the total area is used by the army. Gopal says the government has held talks with the army and UNESCO about expanding the protected, preserved, public part of the fort, but he suggested progress was not imminent (that's a euphemism).
Her are some basic notes, although I'm sure the wiki sites have much more complete information:
The Red Fort was founded in 1080 by the Rajastan leaders. Akbar completely reconstructed it when he assumed power. There are only three leaders in this part of the world (did he say "history"?) to hold the generally recognized title of "the Great": Alexander, Ashoka, and Akbar. (Who knew?) Akbar assumed control in 1556. It was he who brought in the red sandstone, a pioneer in this regard, all the way from Rajastan, over 250 kms away. I think Gopal said Akbar beat the Afghanis to free and unite this territory, but I'm not sure about that.
Mahal means palace, and Akbar constructed several within this complex. Over 8 years, from 1565-1573, 4000 builders worked every day to complete the fort's reconstruction. It's on a semi-circular plan, its chord parallel to the river. The outer walls are 70 feet high with double ramparts, huge circular bastions, regularly spaced towers, and a whole bunch of other interesting architectural features I only partially understand. Not so much in my lexicon, those terms. There are 4 gates on four sides, 1 "khizri" gate opening to the river where a series of ghats was also built. We cannot see those, in part because over time the river has either receded or changed course and no longer comes up to the base of the walls. It's in fact at least a kilometer away (reminds me of Ephesus, rebuilt 5 times due to changes in the water and land). No slouch for defense, Akbar put alligators in the moat around the fort and Bengal tigers between the outer and inner walls.
As you enter, you can't help but be impressed: the sheer size is one thing, but the beauty of teh carvings on the walls is another. It's not hugely elaborate, at least not in the outer walls, but there's a solemnity and serenity to the symmetry and classical ornamentation. Several buildings within the complex blend Islamic, Hindu and even Jewish architecture and iconography in the carved sandstone and marble. Apparently Persian carpets used to line many of the spacious semi-outdoor floors, and their designs/patterns adorned both walls and ceilings (carpets being impractical in open air buildings in a country with such a pronounced rainy season). Speaking of which, the rain is starting with a fury right now as we drive to our next appointment, a walk through a "ghost town", as Sanjeev keeps calling it. Once I get my Red Fort notes typed, I'll embark on that research. The black-gray skies are unburdening themselves now (and we're driving straight toward the most concentrated color). Side note: good God, this bus is freezing. And our bus driver is the tailgating-est dude I've seen here. We're not in one of those mini-buses either; we're in a jumbo tourist bus, laughably large for our number. We're a big fat hazard, in my opinion, as we run up on oil trucks, colorful "goods carrier" trucks with a dozen people sitting in the open cab, bicycles and scooters with 3 people on the back. What's this dude's hurry in the rain?
Back to the fort: one of the first notable tourists-stop-here sights is Jahangir's bathtub, a mammoth beige bowl cut from a single piece of sandstone, hauled here from Rajastan by 10 elephants. His dad or uncle gave it to him either at birth or during his youth, and it was filled with semi-precious stones and gold jewelry. This bloated orb is bigger than our 7 person hot tub. Jahangir took baths in it with 1500 liters of milk scented with rose petals...every day. The "tub" sits in a barred enclosure, not protected from the elements. The original carvings decorating the outside are visible only in sections. It sits in the middle of a large open courtyard, and we come to find that each "palace" consists of rooms (some closed, most open) around a courtyard. I only saw one level per palace, but it is possible there are levels below as well. Mostly I knew we were moving from one palace to another because we'd move through one archway and enter another courtyard, more elaborate than the next, in a different color or design scheme.
Many rooms were only 3-sided, some with breathtaking views (mostly of the Taj Mahal standing silent and lovely across the river). The open portion of these large chambers was closed off with a silk cloth during summer evenings and with woolen fabric during the winter. Also, the 15th century Summer Palace had hollow walls (Gopal knocked on one amid the graffiti jungle to demonstrate) through which servants poured cool water during the hot summer days. He said something about gravity and drainage, but I was too busy looking around at the effects of time and graffiti. Several ceilings showed patches of floral carvings under a more recent coat of plaster. I've learned that sometimes this was done by folks to preserve the art underneath, but I don't know much about the practice.
Gopal next drew our attention to the blend of cultural influences in the architecture and iconography. The six-sided star adorns some of the archways in early parts of the fort tour. He explains (as have others of our guides) that what we know as the "star of David" is actually a Hindu symbol dating back about 33,000 years (whereas the "star of David" is about 7,000 years old). The Vastushastra and Shilpashastra are ancient books that allude to this symbol, showing that the upper three triangles refer to (or parallel) Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. He suggested a clever mnemonic here: those three are the Generator, Operator, and Destroyer: G + O + D. Maybe that will help me keep their "functions" straight too. The lower three triangles represent their wives, and the center dot (in these particular symbols on the wall) refer to...something else mentioned in the ancient texts. I couldn't keep up. Something about truth and gratitude.
Gopal pointed out that as we moved into the palaces of the ruler's women (wives, daughters), there was a conscious effort to blend Hindu and Muslim symbols and styles, as one wife was Muslim, the other Hindu. He also told us a story, sort of hard to swallow, about the doors to ladies' palaces always being on the right. This is because women always stand on the right of men. And this in turn is because there is a vein in the left hand of men that connects to the heart; similarly, there is the same vein on the right hand of women. Sounds like a wives' tale to me.
There was evidence of an early drainage system in the middle of one of the palace courtyards (each space that I call a courtyard Gopal referred to as a separate palace, and I guess he's right. These were not simple affairs). There was a deep floral basin (?) cut into the center floor of one courtyard. It was probably 4' deep. Apparently, Jahangir turned it into a jacuzzi, which is kind of funny. It was an 8-cornered star, emblematic of Islam's 8 ways to heaven (from the Qu'ran). Also we learned that a lotus always has 16 petals.
I think it was Jahangir who had 2 wives and 86 concubines. No wonder he needed so much space. The deeper we went into the palace complex the whiter, the more marble-dominant the architecture became. There were no clear "dividing lines" between palaces. You'd just walk across one courtyard, step through an archway and be surrounded by different colors. The beautiful and elegant "Jasmine's Tower", the apartment (my word) of Jahangir's eldest daughter was especially lovely. It earned its name from the beautiful blue jasmine inlaid into the marble on the walls, 1/2" thick. The front "room" was shaped like a large and elaborate palanquin, the fancy enclosed conveyance that was somewhere between a sofa and a taxi, used by the rich, carried on poles by their servants. This section extended along the wall that faces the river (and the Taj Mahal), its gold roof sloping from the higher ceiling of the center section toward the lower ells. Neither this daughter nor the younger ever married, mostly because Akbar, Shah Jahan's grandfather, had decreed that all the girls in their family would marry into Hindu families. However, at this time, none of the Hindu rulers was strong enough to hold his territory. Therefore, the girls remained with their parents, the eldest caring for Shah Jahan once he was imprisoned by his son.
The "Dream House" of Shah Jahan was the bedroom of Shah Jahan. It had gilt paintings, with a fancy diamond chandelier suspended from 4 metal rings embedded in the marble ceiling. This room has a large alcove with Jewish-influenced arches: 1/4, 1/2 and full arches. There are 40 clustered in each corner, representing the 40 days' ritual at both birth and death in the Jewish faith. Gopal also suggested it recalled the 40 years Moses journeyed and the 40 years it took to establish the faith, but I felt this argument was less compelling.
We ventured across another courtyard into the most elaborate so far, to the room that eventually became his prison. It's an exquisitely carved marble portico, and Gopal told us the marble is of the highest quality, translucent, the world's hardest, and non-porous. Visitors are not allowed to enter it. Still, you can see everything. Mostly, you sense the irony that its beauty would be a poor trade-off for a person's freedom. This is a lovely shallow pool in the shape of a dual-trefoil (?) that Shah Jahan used to bathe once he was confined to this space for the rest of his life. I kept thinking how much Liv and Ruby would like it. Not quite rococo, the room is elaborate and regal, but not over the top in a tacky way. Sounds strange to use that language for the Real Thing, not some roadside marble vendor in New Jersey. In his old age, Shah Jahan couldn't see far, so he used a mirror to view his beloved Taj Mahal.
The interior courtyard (interior interior) was built as a court for public justice, where the people would come to plead their various cases and Shah Jahan would rule on them. There was a 600 kg. peacock throne, a replica of which is now in Iran, with 90,000 (?) carat diamonds. The court is a very elaborate portico with 64 pillars, symmetrical in 8 x 8 configuration. It is beautiful, slightly reminiscent of southern Spain, from the pictures I've seen (have never been to Granada). A building on the other side is capped by 8 marble domes, a mosque now occupied by the Indian army. The huge inner doors to the courtyard are about 24' high. They used to be of sandalwood, covered in gold with 140+ silver nails sticking out. Each of these had a picture of a member of the kind's family on it. Must've been something to behold. Gopal says there's just one left, in a palace in Rajastan. Next trip, perhaps.
I would really have liked more time to walk around the vast complex, even with such a tiny portion open to the public. I couldn't really get a sense of scale...where were those off-limit spaces? The walls are so massive, you can't see what you can't see, you know? But the variety of structural features, the colors and the sheer sumptuousness of the stone (odd to write that) made me want to see more, to linger and absorb. One thing is clear, when you're with a guide, you move.
We headed back to the hotel for lunch--delicious. I think I ate mine in about 4 bites, but was smart enough not to go back for seconds. Had just enough time for a pedicure, had chipped polish and too-long-for-comfort nails. Unfortunately, the staff there was grouchy, unprepared, had a cold and was not very skilled to boot. So I left with refreshed lower legs and nicely shaped nails but no polish.
We then drove pellmell (there's no other way to describe the driver's technique in yesterday's driving rainstorm) to the "ghost town" of Fatehpur Sikri. This is definitely one to check out on YouTube or Wikipedia. I didn't take many pictures nor any notes, so I'll copy from our seminar guide (sourced to http://asi.nic.in/asi_monu_whs_fatehpurshikri.asp). Built during the second half of the 16th c. by the Emperor Akbar, Fatehpur Sikri (the City of Victory) was the capital of the Mughal Empire for only some 10 years. The complex of monuments and temples, all in a uniform architectural style, includes one of the largest mosques in India, the Jama Masjid. It is a World Heritage site.
For me the most notable parts of the trip were the pounding rain that almost sent us back to the hotel (47 kms!) We sat on the bus for a good 10 minutes until it abated to walkable levels. Even so, we all got pretty wet by the end, especially given the bog the street out had become by the end. I was wishing I had pincers instead of hands at the end, needing to carry my shoes and camera, and hold up both pant legs. The lane is lined by the remains of brick stalls, about 6' wide, that used to comprise the town market back when this was an important place. Apparently Jahangir moved the royal residence (and thereby the seat of government) out of Agra, but drought brought him back a mere 7 years later. Agra is right next to the river. The main points of intereste for me (and I was not taking notes) were Jahangir's vaulted "building", open to the breezes on each side, either through a door or fancy lattice work creating windows in the sandstone. Centrally anchored in the middle of the room was a pulpit-like oration space carved out of a single piece of sandstone, probably 18" in diameter at the base and gradually "blooming" as an upside-down lotus. Its top cupped a unique sort of berth, the size of a small hot-air balloon basket, reachable only by a recessed staircase in one corner. From the too of the stairs, Jahangir would have crossed a sort of bridge to stand and issue decrees to his ministers. Among the most illustrious of these was the (fancy name of a text) that outlined the belief system of a new religion, one he invented that combined Hinduism, Islam and Christianity. Its 5600+ pages were faithfully recorded by the emperor's scribes. He himself was illiterate, but obviously a big thinker.
Also of note, he had three wives: a Muslim wife (his first), a Christian wife (second), and a Hindu wife (third). You can tell which he favored by the houses he had built for them. The Muslim wife's house is gorgeously decorated (at least what remains of the carvings), the Christian wife's house featured paintings (some bits still visible) and a nearby kitchen, though one placard suggested the kitchen may have been attached to other buildings instead. And the Hindu wife got a big fat open-air palace, probably because she gave birth to his son and heir, Shah Jahan. Jahangir had consulted a Hindu priest about how to bear sons and I recall very few details of this story, just the emperor walking barefoot the 45+ kms to visit the priest, then abstaining with sex (was that right?) for the duration of his wife's pregnancy. At any rate, the baby was born, the empire was on the wane, but no one knew it then. Shah Jahan would be the next-to-last Mughal emperor, mostly because of the religious intolerance of his son...that's right, the one who imprisoned him in the Red Fort (largely because of his father's unIslamic practices of marrying outside the faith). But I digress. The palace complex also featured a life-sized parcheesi board. Jahangir would go up on a 5-story guard tower and tell the human "pieces" where to move. Reminds me of chessboards in northern Italy, but I forget the town name. Jahangir's bedroom was also designed in a noteworthy way. The largest rectangular room was dominated by a wide central platform, the size of a modern king-sized bed (hmm, wonder where that term comes from). But you step down about 8" to enter the main body of the room. The drop was because this was the summer bedroom, and in the warm months, a pool of water helped cool the room and provide pleasing "atmospherics" (to quote Gopal). This arrangement doubled as a security measure, as Jahangir crossed an elevated gold and silver bridge to reach his bed. The emperor or his guards would be able to hear any attackers walking through the water. Clever.
And finally on a more macabre note, the first space you reach upon entering the compound was a sort of royal court with a l-o-n-g portico stretching into a generous rectangle, holding lovely green spaces that used to have gardens and fountains. There is a single stone...about the size of a small picnic basket....that used to be an integral part of the administration of justice under Jahangir. In trying to determine punishment in some cases (I missed the specifics on this, if there were any), Jahangir would command that the accused lay their head on the stone. Then one of his elephants would approach. If the elephant stepped on the person's head, he/she died. If the elephant didn't harm them, they were released. Such was the relationship between or "understanding" of Jahangir and his elephants. Wow.
The hawkers yesterday were particularly aggressive with us, and I am aware of my weariness in that regard. I know they're just trying to make a buck, and I've steered almost universally clear of them. But man, I do not like this system of pitching products.
We came back pretty tired, had a beer an appetizer (yummy samosas!) and went to bed early. I was thrilled to FaceTime a bit with Chris, who was busy working with Jim on Jane and Andy's cottage. Good for him, and them too.
 |
| multi-faith iconography |
 |
| Red Fort, Daughter's Palace |
 |
| Red Fort, cornices |
 |
| check out the carving on sandstone |
 |
| Red Fort, just one palace of many! |
 |
| giant bathtub!! |
 |
| stone filigree, can you imagine carving this? |
 |
| Glass Palace placard |
 |
| "interior interior" courtyard: Court of Justice |
 |
| Red Fort: side view, Court of Justice |
 |
| Corner shot, Court of Justice |
 |
| emphasis on symmetry: Red Fort, Court of Justice |
 |
| Palatial landscaping, Red Fort interior |
 |
tour guide Gopal, Jasmine Palace,
Shah Jahan's last room |
 |
| Shah Jahan's last apartment, Red Fort |
 |
| Agra Fort placard, Part II |
 |
| Agra Fort placard, Part I |
 |
| Red Fort: "jacuzzi" |
 |
| Interior wall, Red Fort |
 |
| plan, Agra Fort |
 |
| Scaffolding, inside palace of Red Fort |
 |
| Shah Jahan fountain/bath |
 |
| Me in a doorway, Red Fort |
