Tag: architecture

Lucknow’s Hidden Gem: Sikandra Bagh and its Unsung Warrior, Uda Devi

Having lived in Lucknow for years, I never gave Sikandra Bagh much thought. But now, as a tourist in my hometown, I felt a poignant mix of nostalgia and discovery. This unplanned visit stemmed from a morning walk in the Botanical Garden across the road. What I stumbled upon was a hidden treasure of history and heroism.

Sikandra Bagh, though modest today, whispers of a glorious past. It served as his summer retreat, built by the last Nawab of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah (1847-1856). Imagine lush gardens flanking a three-towered palace complex, a vibrant Nawabi court. The unique “pair of fish” entrance hinted at Nawabi prosperity, while the architecture itself was a fascinating blend – Chinese pagodas, European arches, and Persian domes in beautiful harmony. Traces of delicate artwork and the lone remaining gateway adorned with Chikankari-like moldings spoke of the monument’s former grandeur.

Standing amidst these remnants, I envisioned Sikandra Bagh in its prime – a testament to Wajid Ali Shah‘s artistic tastes. But Sikandra Bagh‘s story goes beyond its beauty. Within its walls unfolded a fierce battle during the 1857 revolt against the British East India Company. Here, I encountered the tale of Uda Devi, Sikandra Bagh‘s unsung queen.

Uda Devi, born into a Dalit family, was far from royalty. Yet, her spirit burned with the fire of rebellion. Joining forces with Begum Hazrat Mahal, Wajid Ali Shah‘s wife, she formed and led a battalion of Dalit women. The battle at Sikandra Bagh on November 16, 1857, was brutal. Uda Devi‘s leadership and courage stunned the British commander, Colin Campbell. Legend has it that upon learning of her husband, a senior warrior, being martyred, her grief transformed into rage. Determined for revenge, she disguised herself and climbed a banyan tree overlooking the battlefield. Imagine the chaos – the rumble of cannons, the shouts of soldiers. Uda Devi, a lone sniper, picked off British soldiers with deadly accuracy. The sheer number of casualties inflicted by a single “sniper” speaks volumes of her bravery.

Sadly, her story ends tragically. Suspected by the British, she was shot and killed. Around 2,300 freedom fighters perished that day. Ironically, more Victoria Crosses were awarded for this single day than any other in the conflict, many for capturing Sikandra Bagh. Uda Devi, the “Unknown Warrior,” faded into history. A statue stands in her honor today, a reminder amidst the neglected Sikandra Bagh.

This visit left me with mixed emotions – pride in Lucknow’s history and regret for overlooking this gem. Uda Devi‘s story reminds us that heroism can emerge from anywhere. As a tourist in my city, I discovered a monument, a tale of courage, sacrifice, and rebellion. Sikandra Bagh awaits rediscovery, its whispers waiting to be heard. The next time you’re in Lucknow, take a moment to step into this hidden chapter of history. You might just be surprised by what you find.

Sri Lanka: Where Nature Met Genius – My Unexpected Encounter with Geoffrey Bawa

The Greek influence

Sri Lanka had been on my travel bucket list for years. The promise of lush landscapes, pristine beaches, and a rich cultural heritage was irresistible. With my itinerary planned and cities marked, I embarked on my solo adventure, eager to experience this beautiful island nation.

There was one name, however, that kept popping up in conversations with my architect son – Geoffrey Bawa. While I wasn’t familiar with him, at the time, his name seemed to hold a special significance for those in the architectural world. Somehow, amidst the flurry of planning, the name slipped my mind.

Not a painting but the staircase.

Fast forward to checking into the Cinnamon Bentota Beach Hotel. The moment I stepped through the entrance, I was struck by a sense of awe. The design was unlike anything I’d ever seen – open, airy, and seamlessly integrated with the surrounding environment. A spark of memory ignited – my son’s words about Geoffrey Bawa! Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

This wasn’t just a hotel; it was a masterpiece. The days that followed were a revelation. The beaches, hill stations, and train rides of Sri Lanka, while undeniably beautiful, paled in comparison to the captivating genius of Bawa’s design. Every detail, from the use of natural materials to the interplay of light and space, was meticulously crafted to create a haven of tranquility and luxury.

The entrance itself was a portal to a bygone era, echoing the grandeur of Dambulla’s cave temple. The roof design was a clear homage to Sri Lankan Buddhist architecture, yet the overall feel was fresh and contemporary. The expansive layout embraced the lush surroundings, and the clever positioning of the reception area captured the cool ocean breeze, eliminating the need for artificial cooling – a testament to Bawa’s philosophy of “decolonizing architecture.”

Bawa, revered by some architects as a God or rockstar of the field, was a master at erasing the boundaries between the outside and inside. His signature architectural style allowed for an abundance of natural elements to flow freely throughout the hotel. The tropical sun, dappled by strategically placed trees, warmed the spaces. The ocean breeze, a constant companion, carried the scent of saltwater and serenity. Lush greenery, visible from almost every corner, blurred the line between indoors and the vibrant Sri Lankan landscape. The sound of flowing water features added a touch of tranquility to the overall ambiance.

The doorway to the elevator.

Everywhere I turned, there were artistic touches that elevated the ordinary into the extraordinary. The staircase transformed into a gallery, each step an invitation to explore further. The doorway to the elevator was itself a piece of art, and the natural stone finish of the swimming pool blurred the lines between man-made and natural beauty. Even the simple act of setting a table overlooking the sea became an experience, showcasing Bawa’s ability to elevate the mundane.

Every detail, from the grand entrance to the most inconspicuous staircase, was imbued with Bawa’s genius. It was as if the entire hotel was a carefully curated art exhibition, each element meticulously chosen to create a harmonious whole. On my next stop, I ventured to visit his home in Sri Lanka, eager to learn more about the mind behind this architectural masterpiece. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.

The Mystique of Sultan Ghari: Oldest Islamic Tomb in India

Not far from one of Delhi’s most-visited monuments lies one of India’s best-kept secrets. At almost 800 years old, it is the oldest surviving Islamic tomb in India—the mausoleum of Nasir ud-Din Mahmud, brother of Razia Sultan and eldest son of Sultan Shams-ud-Din Iltutmish (1167-1236). Built in 1231-1232, Sultan Ghari precedes all other royal mausoleums in India, except for Qutub-ud-Din Aibak’s tomb in Lahore.

Despite its historical significance, Sultan Ghari often remains in the shadows of the more illustrious Qutub Minar, where Nasir’s father Iltutmish is buried. However, beneath its lesser-known status lies a treasure trove of architectural and historical wonders waiting to be discovered.

What sets Sultan Ghari apart is its unique architectural character. Viewed from within or from the entrance, it gives the impression of a fortified stronghold rather than a traditional burial chamber. The bastions, crafted from sturdy red sandstone, create an aura of guardhouses protecting their master. Even today, they stand proudly, their weathered surfaces telling tales of centuries past. It is the only mausoleum in India, and possibly the world, that does not have a tomb covering the burial chamber. As I explored Sultan Ghari, I was struck by the craftsmanship and attention to detail. The octagonal structure, nestled within a courtyard atop a high square plinth, speaks of ancient architectural prowess

The fusion of Islamic and Hindu elements, including intricately sculpted 7th-century panels and lintels, reflects the cultural diversity of India’s heritage. The tomb is built on the site of a Hindu temple and incorporates Hindu masonry, making it a fascinating study of historical syncretism.

Over the centuries, Nasir ud-Din’s tomb has acquired the status of a dargah, with locals believing it holds the remains of their Pir Baba. Every Thursday, people of all faiths gather to offer their prayers, creating a vibrant tapestry of devotion and reverence. The chamber where Nasir ud-Din and two other unnamed tombs lie is a sight of deep devotion, steeped in the aroma of incense, oil lamps, and candle wax. The floor is covered in flowers, oil, turmeric, and other ritual offerings. The aura of the place is so profound that one can almost hear the prayers of the faithful.

The folklore surrounding Sultan Ghari adds a layer of mystique to its history. As the legend goes, the prince’s days might have been rough, but his nights were a “bed of roses.” Every night, he slept on a bed laid with rose petals, meticulously arranged by a slave girl. One day, the girl succumbed to temptation and decided to see what it felt like to lie down on the bed. The prince was scheduled to return late, so she climbed into the bed, which was so comfortable that she drifted off to sleep—only to be woken up by an angry prince five hours later.

Nasir ud-Din dragged her from the bed and ordered her to be flogged. While under the lash, the girl laughed hysterically. The more she was flogged, the more she laughed. An irate prince commanded that she be whipped harder, but it did nothing to halt her mirth. Finally, completely bewildered, Nasir ud-Din put a stop to it and asked her what exactly it was that she found quite so funny.

The girl brazenly replied that if sleeping on his bed for a mere five hours could leave her feeling so vulnerable, how much weaker it must leave him, who slept on it all his life! The baffled prince stood silent. For a man known as Malik-us-Sharq (king of the east), acknowledged for bravery and grit, to be called a weakling was outrageous. She then told him, “You will never be a king of the land but will be the king of souls.”

As an avid traveler and photographer, I find Sultan Ghari’s quiet grandeur both humbling and inspiring. Each visit reveals new stories etched in stone, waiting to be told through my lens. The play of light and shadow on the red sandstone, the intricate details of the carvings, and the serene atmosphere create a perfect setting for capturing moments frozen in time.

The best time to visit Sultan Ghari is from October to March when the weather in Delhi is cooler, providing a more comfortable exploration experience. Despite being less visited, Sultan Ghari appeals greatly to photographers and history enthusiasts alike. Its distinctive appearance as a mausoleum that resembles a fort makes it a captivating subject for architectural photography.

Every day at sunset, this monument in the posh locality of Vasant Kunj yearns for the attention it deserves. Not only is it the resting place of a great warrior of huge importance in Indian history, but it also happens to be the first known Islamic tomb built in India. On the world map, it stands as the only mausoleum of a prince without a tomb covering the burial chamber. The prince who died young still waits for his moment of glory, a silent sentinel to history and devotion.