A pea-shaped face peeked from behind a set of rusted iron
doors at the Taj Mahal palace as I firmly
rapped the heavy door-knocker against its metal backrest. “I wish to look
around”, I said determinedly in response to the quizzical expression that
stared back at me. The possessor of the tiny, question-marked face – Abhinav, a
young boy of perhaps 15 turned out to be one of the three caretakers who had
been bestowed upon the responsibility of guarding the premise. At first, he
seemed mighty reluctant to let me in, let alone explore, but a healthy dose of incessant
cajoling and emotional blackmail made him buckle and agree to show me around.
Moments ago, fuelled by the tea at Raju tea stall, I had
been high as a kite at the thought of exploring the ruins of Begum Shah Jahan’s
castle which, if I were to believe the rumors, was a magnificent structure,
spread over a whopping 17 acres in the heart of the otherwise congested
Jahangirabad locality. Threatening to burst my happy bubble of adventure though,
was a rather sad vision that welcomed me at the venue. A decrepit, narrow
frontispiece snuggled in an easy-to-miss recess by the main road. It was hard
to envision a grand citadel hidden behind those doors. But, sure enough, as
Abhinav cranked them open, a gargantuan forum of ruins unfurled magically like
a page in a pop-up book.
Within minutes of wandering with him, I realized that Abhinav’s
bag-of-bones constitution was deceptive. Once he started regaling the castle’s
history it was as if an electric wave of energy had coursed through his lanky
frame. I could tell he loved every nook and corner of the crumbling acropolis
as he bounced vivaciously from one section to the next. One of the fully intact
features within the premise, he told me, was Saawan Bhado – an airy structure peppered with wrought iron spouts
that were used to sprinkle cool underground water on the palace walls to temper
down the excruciating summer heat. Standing beneath one of its red stone
arches, I could almost smell the aroma exuded by a patch of earth, the cracked
lips of which had just been caressed by a refreshing trickle.
Contrary to the hard-as-nails reputation earned by her
mother and grandmother, Begum Shah Jahan (who was number 3 in the line of Bhopal’s
4 Begums) was said to be soft and lady like, with a penchant for all things
beautiful like poetry, architecture and art. Her love for intricate
architecture is evident from the mirror work and carvings found in the Sheesh Mahal, one of the many
sub-sections of the palace. Even in
its current state of abandon, the walls of Sheesh
Mahal give an illusion of being studded with bits of precious stones; leading
me to believe that in its hey-day, its glitter must have been quite a sight for
sore eyes. From the jharokhas that
hang over the adjoining Motia Talaab (Motia
Lake), the twin minarets and the colossal dome of the Tajul Masjid can be seen along with their inverted mirror images reflecting in the lake. The mosque, which was also the Begum’s brainchild, is supposed to
be one of the largest in Asia and is perhaps just as imposing as Delhi’s Jama
Masjid or Lahore’s Badshahi Masjid.
It is said that those predisposed to literature and fine arts
tend to be emotional fools by default. Begum Shah Jahan too seems to have conformed
perfectly to this rule. From falling hopelessly in love with her ambitious, gold-digging
tutor Syed Siddiq Hassan to upholding a 13-year long iciness towards her
daughter, the then heir apparent - Kai Khusrau Jahan Begum, upon whom she squarely
placed the blame for the untimely death of her first grand-daughter– there are
plenty of stories that give an idea of how drama riddled the Begum’s life was.
This is not to say that she was an inept ruler who turned a blind eye towards
the welfare of her subjects while engaging solely in frivolous activities. A
truly secular ruler, Begum Shah Jahan established a Hindu Property Trust for
conserving Hindu properties. She also inaugurated the railway system in Bhopal,
a project once spearheaded by her grandmother. It was projects like these and
many others that made her a much loved sovereign.
On one hand, the palace’s quiet seclusion and lack of publicity
allows one to peacefully soak in its splendor without being distracted by packs
of noisy tourists, annoying school children on class picnics, roguish touts
trying to palm off cheap trinkets and fake guides concocting spicy stories to
pique their clients’ interest. On the other hand, the government’s obliviousness
towards its upkeep has forced the structure into accepting a life of neglect
and subsequent decay. The flourishing jungles of wild grass that seem to have
gobbled up portions of the palace, fungus laden walls that are lined with webs
of pitiful fractures and rotting animal carcasses that can be found within the
once sumptuous rock pile are sad reminders of the fact that the palace is fast
approaching its own demise.
Yet, Abhinav seems hopeful. The local newspapers have
reported that the property is soon to be converted into a fancy heritage hotel.
He sees himself getting employed in some capacity as part of the enterprise and
this pleases him immensely. I, on the flip side, can’t help feeling dismayed at
the news even though it probably means a much needed face-lift for the palace.
Chances are pretty high that this is the first and the last time that I have
the luxury to pry around untroubled like a true adventurer examining
prospective trapdoors or simply sit by the lake in a dreamy trance like a poet
mulling over frilly ideas.
As the sky changed into its evening garb of crimson streaked
china-blue, with great difficulty I pulled my spellbound self away from the
untouched beauty of a quaint castle. A castle that was once the loving abode of
a wistful princess who dreamt of things like finding true love, creating a world
where all faiths coexisted in harmony, providing for each of her subjects and growing old gracefully, surrounded by a
happy roost of children and grandchildren. Just as I exited, a band of
grime-covered, wide-eyed urchins ambushed me, hungrily eyeing my knapsack,
clawing at my arms and pointing towards their famished mouths. And just like
that, the spell I was under broke, its shattered pieces taking on the form of these wretched souls who dragged me back to the real world.
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