The Road to Nowhere – Bidar, North Karnataka, India

The Road to Nowhere…
Bidar, North Karnataka, India

Another weekend is around the corner and I’m thinking of a place to go to. This feeling of restlessness envelopes me weekend after weekend – an all-consuming desire to move out of the trappings of a mundane city existence out into the open, where there is so much more waiting to be explored. As Friday approaches, my mind is agog with ideas on the options I have and by the time I leave office, I know where exactly I’m spending my weekend. This time it was going to be the quaint medieval town of Bidar in North Karnataka.
I took an early morning bus from Hyderabad from the Imliban bus stand, said to be largest in Asia. It was a cool July morning and I prepared myself for the 4-hour journey to Bidar. After crossing the extensive suburbs of Hyderabad, it is a rather plain journey with nothing much to write home about. I slept almost all the way. I had hot piping Idlies on a wayside stop before reaching Bidar at around 10 in the morning. I found a cheap place to stay and after taking a quick bath set out to explore the town. The best way to move around is the bicycle (ostensibly called ‘cycle taxis’). However one needs to show a proof of identity (which I didn’t have) to hire one from the many shops near the bus stand. This meant I’ll have to depend on public transport or walk the entire distance – not a bad prospect in the pleasant cloudy weather.

My first port of call was the Bidar fort, reminiscent of the glorious days of Bidar, and the chief attraction of the town. A moat several feet wide and three layers of huge walls guard the entrance to the fort. Most of the structures inside the fort are in ruins now but there is ample evidence of the grandeur that once was. Built in the 15th century by the Bahamani sultans, this is one of the largest forts in the country. For a fort this grand, it is surprisingly empty. There is a whole cluster of palaces inside the fort – Rangin Mahal, Tarkash Mahal, Gagan Mahal and Takht Mahal. Besides these, there is a huge mosque called the Solah Khamba Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India. The mosque has six rows of sixteen pillars each and hence the name. The view from inside the mosque is rather imposing with the huge bulbous dome in the center and rows of pillars all around it.

Adjacent to the mosque is perhaps the most beautiful of the palaces – the Tarkash Mahal. It is a seven-storied structure with three of the floors below the ground level. In fact it is said that the whole fort is as much below the ground as it is above it. Huge arched gateways and dilapidated, dark, narrow-winding staircases give the palace a rather eerie appearance. Through the several arched windows, you can look down on the entire town. Interestingly the palace walls are adorned with several typical Hindu motifs of creepers and animals, a testimony to the secular nature of this fort. I hired the gardener working on the lawns to show me around the palace and the mosque. Actually to be frank, I did not feel too comfortable going through the dark alleys and narrow staircases alone. Plans are afoot to organize Sound and Light shows in the fort and so the gardens are being done up and the fountains repaired. The other palaces too are in varying stages of decadence thanks to the fury of the elements and the disregard of the ASI. These days the fort acts, by turns, as a grazing ground for the cattle and as a cricket playground for the local lads.

All along the walls there are several bastions with huge cannons positioned in a couple of them. Standing on these bastions one can see a long way ahead. Beyond the fort walls are steep cliffs probably a couple of hundred feet or so in depth. The two temples inside the fort precincts further reinforce its secular nature. The curator of the museum is showing a European couple around the fort. I just tag along for some time listening to his animated commentary in broken English….more comic than informatory – not a very good way to showcase our prized treasures to the outside world. After spending a good couple of hours exploring the fort, I decided to move on.
Near the fort, in the heart of the walled city stands the Madarsa of Mahmud Gawan, a renowned Persian scholar in the 15th century. In its heydays, the madarsa attracted students from all over the Islamic world. It was struck by lightening leaving only one of the minarets intact and destroying a large part of the building. The huge courtyard of the madarsa serves as a kind of meeting point. When I went there around noon, there were people sitting on the steps reading newspapers and discussing the events of the day.

Next I set out for the Bahamani tombs, around 6 km away from the town in a small village called Ashtur. Unable to find a public transport, I walked the whole distance in the hot sun. The first tomb on the way is a beautiful octagonal structure called the Chaukhandi, the tomb of Hazrat Khalill Ullah, a revered saint of that period and the spiritual advisor of the Bahamani sultan, Allaudin Shah. Further ahead there is a whole cluster of the tombs of the Bahamanis and their families. Nothing very remarkable about these tombs except for the one belonging to Allaudin Shah, which houses a few Muslim paintings. However the tomb of Humayun, the cruel, which was split open into half by a lightening strike a few decades ago is quite…. well, striking. It is almost like an onion bulb cut into half along the vertical axis. The best part however is the location of these tombs. Far out into the countryside, within a clutch of trees, it offers immense quiet. I sat there for almost half an hour waiting for the bus to take me back to the town.

Next I decided to explore the Barid Shah tombs just beside the state transport bus stand. The tombs are located in lush green surroundings and are surrounded by trees all around. The best preserved of the tombs is the one belonging to Ali Barid. Unlike most tombs, this tomb is open on all the four sides and is on a raised plinth. There are remnants of colored tiles and beautiful calligraphy inside the tomb. Interestingly, near the tomb is the mass graveyard of the 64 mistresses of Ali Barid. The tomb acts as a kind of a community center for the entire town. When I was there around dusk, there were boys of all ages studying under the huge archways, a few middle aged pot bellied men trying to touch their toes and a whole lot of other people just gossiping their time away. In the fields around the tomb, there are football, volleyball and cricket matches in progress. The whole place looks very beautiful in the fading light of the day. I sat on the raised plinth for quite some time till it was quite dark and I felt the first pangs of hunger. Deciding to come back early next day, I left the place for my hotel.
Next day I woke up early to keep my date with the Barid Shah tombs. When I reached there, the same scene as yesterday repeated itself. Tens of children deeply immersed in their books, a few young men doing their daily exercises, men of all ages reading newspapers, a middle aged laughter club in progress and lot of people walking/jogging in the greens around. As the sunlight filtered in through the trees, the level of activity increased further. I find this idea of monuments being witness to generation after generation of human activity very overwhelming in some ways. More than five centuries ago, the Badiri Shahs would have been regular visitors to these tombs to pay their obeisance to the departed souls. If only these walls could speak, they would recount tales of bravery and grandeur, of love and faith, of debauchery and drunken revelry. After some more philosophical romanticizing, I returned back to the hotel to plan the day ahead.

The Karnataka government promises one of the ‘finest specimens of Chalukyan architecture’ in a small village, Jalsangwi, about 40 kilometers away from Bidar. Since I did not have any other plans, I thought I’d have a look. After much enquiring, I finally found a bus that would drop me on the highway from where the temple is another 2 kms away. After an hour in the bus, I got down on the country road to the temple. After more than 30 mins of walking through swaying fields of sugarcane and maize, I finally reached the village. The temple though was a disappointment. Though the figurines on the outer walls are beautiful and immaculately proportioned, the temple itself is in a sorry state. The locals gawk at the sight of a rucksack carrying lean guy clad in six-pocket gabs (wearing that was a mistake). I wandered around for some time before taking a bus back to Bidar. After reaching Bidar, I quickly had my lunch before starting on the journey back to Hyderabad.
As I board the bus back to Hyderabad, the sky is veiled in dark black clouds. Just as the bus turns into NH9, it starts to rain heavily. The sound of the rain lashing against the windowpanes and the gentle rocking of the bus soon puts me to sleep. I’m already dreaming of the next weekend.