Guiding Our Culture

Guiding Our Culture

Words fail to describe completely the exotic carvings at the caves at Ajanta and at Kailasa and the other temples of Ellora. To dig out of a hill-side an entire monolithic temple or caves, complete with pillars, corridors with intricate carvings relating mythological tales in a jointless, seamless canvas of stone is truly extraordinary.

Those who conceived the plan for Ellora and its temples and planned the execution of this massive project possessed a rare ability to `inversely’ conceptualise, record their plans to precision. This is important as the project would be executed over decades by generations of extremely skilled craftsmen with no changes. Even a single incorrect stroke of the chisel would cause irreversible errors. Tourists come in busloads to view these sites. Most are overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the effort and the intricate carvings. Some others completely miss grasping the enormity of the effort involved, nor do they really care. More tick marks to the list of places visited before moving on to the next destination.

Enroute to Ellora, and quite apart from the Satpura range, is Devagiri or Daulatabad Fort, with its own unique place in the annals of our history.  This is to where Mohammed bin Tughlak had shifted his Capital from Delhi and a couple of years later, moved back. For this, and some other of his novel decisions, Tughlak has a reputation of a quixotic maverick. However, it is unfair to judge Tughlak’s decision to shift his capital to Daulatabad without having visited the place.  And we were fortunate to have Jaavedbhai as our guide when we did so.

The fort and Jaavedbhai quite clearly enjoyed a special bond – something in the nature of mother and child. The fort provided him sustenance and he, on his part, looked up to it with love, respect and awe and spared no effort in extolling its various features. Jaavedbhai was familiar with every inch of this feature and which event in its history had occurred where. His narrative style, choice of words, humility, objective analysis and reverence for the personages associated with the fort’s history made him a perfect guide. As he spoke, his eyes seemed fixed into the distance, as if witnessing events he described as they unfolded. Those of the group who had earlier felt employing a guide to be a waste of money very soon realised how much they would have other wise missed.

Bhillamraja, a Yadava ruler had built this unique fort in the twelfth century. There are seven levels of defence to this fort, Jaavedbhai’s description detailed. Of these, the first three were high turreted walls on the plains surrounding a rising hill. The gates in these walls were invariably positioned to be immediately after sharp bends, so that charging elephants could not muster sufficient momentum as they dashed against barricaded doors. Between these walls are the ruins of what once had been a bustling township. From the midst of these ruins, emerges the Chand Minar, an impressively tall though much shorter look-alike of the more renowned Qutab Minar. Have you seen the Qutab Minar? Someone asked. A truthful `No’ was the reply. Climbing up the winding stairs was good exercise and from atop, Jaavedbhai showed us the water tanks, the locations of the troop quarters, the armoury and granaries, most of which Tughlak had built to fulfil his dream of a new capital.

Descending from the Chand Minar, the group proceeded slowly up the main fort up the hill. The climb became somewhat steeper and some way up, we came to a small bridge across a moat. In the old times there had been a collapsible leather drawbridge here that would be cut once everyone was in to prevent intrusion of the enemy.  Crocodiles in the waters of the moat would pounce upon those who attempted to swim across. On the fort side of the bridge was a steep rock face with a single opening that could be entered single file after which was a flight of steps.  Jaavedbhai explained how this ensured that even if the moat were crossed, the attackers could be accosted and slayed one by one.

The steps reached us to the entrance of a defence system perhaps found nowhere else – a dark cavernous cell cut through the rock. In the darkness, a blast of cool air would greet the attacker from one side and one of hot air from the other, caused by heat produced due to huge pots of oil being heated to boiling point.  This hot oil was poured onto the attackers groping in the darkness through holes in the roof of the cave. The enemy was actually being tempted to go in the direction of the cold blast and move to under those holes. Unseen in that dark alley was another gaping large hole into which anyone who slips will slide right down to the moat and its waiting crocs. Jaavedbhai used his torch to explain the functioning of this defence system. The enemy who has reached this far is well on his way to capture the stronghold.

For the besieged King and his family, there was an escape tunnel leading to a secret unseen stable with waiting horses was catered.

Daulatabad though had never been successfully stormed. It had fallen through blockades, subterfuge and complicity and deceit by traitors. Treachery has been the bane of our history, Jaavedbhai stressed.

Up on the hill, were some structures, one named Chini Mahal. Then there is Kila Shikar, a grand old brass cannon with Persian engravings, said to be the largest cannon in India. Larger than ranjit Singh’s Zamzama, he added.   The place where the gun rested, as per Jaavedbhai’s narration, is the very spot at which Mohammad bin Tughlak once stood and contemplated to make his momentous decision to move his capital.

A sprightly schoolgirl asked why then Tughlak moved back to Delhi. Jaavedbhai replied that the principal reasons had enemies in the North and the shortage of water. His assessment of Tughlak came next - was a great king but did not have a feel or concern for his people. Otherwise he would not have been oblivious to the shortage of a basic a necessity as water to support an entire township. Daulatabad, as Jaavedbhai emphasised, is not designed for a very large population. If water is to be brought from outside, it becomes vulnerable in a blockade as those trapped could be brought to their knees through their thirst. The same was true with Akbar, added Jaavedbhai quoting the same reason for the successor Moghul Kings to abandon Fatehpur Sikri as the capital.

Had he been to Fatehpur Sikri? Answer was another honest `No.’

The schoolgirl then shot off another fantasy question as to whether the kings of those days went touring to see Ellora. This drew a profound response from Jaavedbhai. It is a pity, he said, that the later kings did not recognise the beauty of these carvings. They practiced their idol destruction without remorse or sentiment in a genuine belief that their religion required them to do so. It does not matter to which religion a work of art is related. No religion preaches defilement. They, in his assessment, were poorly advised.

In this sand grain of Daulatabad, Jaavedbhai had grasped in its entirety the entire sea-shore of the composite culture and history of India. He may not have set his eyes on the Qutab or Fatehpur Sikri, but knew by instinct knew what precisely had happened in these places, as indeed everywhere else in our country all along the time-line. It is people like Jaavedbhai who are at the cutting edge of expounding the essential oneness of Indian society.

If our history is to be understood in its true essence, it is best done through the likes of Jaavedbhai rather than through mere text-books. The very purpose of studying history – to bind rather than divide Society, would then be far better served.