Lots of stuff today:
Agra Fort
Agra Fort is the only fort in India where all the Mughal emperors lived (but not at the same time, of course). Mughals ruled from here from 1526 and it got its present look from Akbar (reigned 1556 – 1605 AD) who restored it in red sandstone from its ruins. Building took eight years (1565 – 73 AD) and it became a World Heritage site in 1983.
As you climb the slope from the southern “Amar Singh” gate, you can’t miss Jahangir’s Palace. Except that it’s not Jehangir’s at all. It was originally Akbar’s palace, but the “hauz” (large bath) made for Jehangir ended up in front of it, and the whole place took on his name:
Inside the main fort, you could just make out the Taj Mahal in the foggy (polluted?) distance:
Shah Jahan (he who had the Taj Mahal built) had begun to renovate Agra Fort, changing the buildings inside from red sandstone to his beloved white marble.
The dark patches in the corners of this room are where tourists have rested their heads – when someone speaks from the corner diagonal to it, you can hear them. Albeit muffled. It wasn’t clear whether this effect was intended (or even noticed) by Jahan but it certainly demonstrates the accuracy of symmetry.
The “Diwan-i-Am” of this fort:
The main gardens had been restored to their previous splendour:
Jahangir’s “chain of justice” was my favourite anecdote of the day. To quote the information plaque:
“He records in his memoirs that after his accession, the first order he gave “was for the fastening up of the chain of justice so that if those engaged in the administration of justice should delay or practice hypocrisy, the aggrieved might come to this chain and shake it so that its noise might attract my attention.” It was made of pure gold, 80-foot in length and had 60 bells. One end was fastened to the fort’s battlements, and the other to a stone post on the bank of the river. It was a novel way to address the grievances of the people who could approach the king, the highest judicial authority of the empire, directly, without fee, fear or formality for immediate relief. There was no distinction of caste or creed, or between poor and rich. Jahangir’s administration of justice became a legend in Indian history.”
Back to Jahan (Jahangir’s son?). As part of the fort’s renovation, he created a white marble octagonal tower. In 1658, Jahan’s son stole power by cutting off the water supply to the fort and murdering all his brothers. Jahan was imprisoned in the tower until his death eight years later. Mind you, it’s not a bad place to be kept:
This fort’s Diwan-i-Khas:
Another item of note was the black marble “Takht-i-Jahangir” (Throne of Jahangir) made by the then Prince Salim (later to become Jahangir) when he had rebelled against his father, Akbar (rebelling against your father seemed to be a family trait). You can’t tell from the photo, but it gently slopes from the centre to the sides, like a tortoise back:
The “Nagina” mosque was built in 1635 by Jahan for the ladies of the court:
… with shops below (he clearly knew his audience well):
And finally the Diwan-i-Am (hall of public audience):
Outside was teeming with squirrels:
… who were attracted by stupid tourists:
… until one of the tourists got bitten and he, rather pointlessly, tried to push the blood out of the bite:
(We saw the ladies at the park later… without the man…)
I’timad-ud-Daulah
You can see why it’s affectionately known as the “Baby Taj”:
Like the Taj Mahal, it’s a tomb, built by the wife of emperor Jahangir for her father (also the grandfather of Mumtaz Mahal) between 1622 and 1628. To my eyes, it was clearly the inspiration for the Taj Mahal which draw on many of its features, such as the white marble and floral decorations.
Four water channels cut the space into quadrants (they liked their symmetry did the Mughals), representing the four rivers of life: milk, water, wine and honey.
Chini-ka-Rau Ah
This is the tomb of the calligrapher and then poet, Shukrullah Shirazi, characterised by the glazed tilework:
Which had fallen into disrepair in many places:
By this point, I was info’d out, so none of the useful information on the plaque went in. Inside it was painted:
The visit also stuck in my memory because someone insisted on putting covers over our shoe but when we got inside, the floor was concrete-like and dusty. “You must pay them 50 rupees”, our tuktuk driver insisted when we emerged. Our laugh made it clear that we were going to do nothing of the sort. And they knew they were on shakey ground because they didn’t even put up a fight. It’s worth a try, I suppose!
Mehtab Bagh
Shah Jahan (yep, him again) built this park on the banks opposite the Taj Mahal so the building could be admired, especially in the moonlight (the park’s name translates as “Moon Park”).
Near the edge of the river was a pool which would reflect the Taj Mahal. It may also be from where the legend of the Black Taj came. Rumour has it that Shah Jahan had planned a black marble building on the opposite bank of the river for himself. Having spent all his cash on the white version, he planned to tax the locals to pay for it. His son persuaded him that this was a bad idea, and may result in the end of the Mughal dynasty. Archaeological surveys have proven that the existence of its foundations is a myth. However, it is possible that what the Black Taj actually referred to was the reflection of the white Taj in the water.
Currently, the park is not very well planned, with this avenue of trees rather obscuring the magnificent view. Renovations were clearly underway, so here’s hoping they do it justice.
A busy and interesting day, with another glimpse of the “world’s most beautiful building”.
Random stuff from today:
“Scrumbled” egg, anyone? (I actually think this is an improvement on the term):
The man who drove us to the fort was the travel agent’s uncle. Apparently. We considered requesting the same driver for tomorrow to see if he could be found again!
A tuktuk advert for “No 1 Sexologist… 100% herbal” was somewhat unexpected:
A clever setup off this man’s belt – a carbiner goes through a hole in what looks like a small bottle of suncream. Very practical:
On the tuktuk journey back, I once again saw “how the other half live” (the other “other half”) – a stark reminder of how lucky I am and how first-world problems should really be put into perspective:
