Quiz time, folks! Which World Heritage site in India did UNESCO
recognize most recently? Not the Taj Mahal. That was in 1983. Nor the Ajanta and Ellora caves (1983). Not even the Konarak sun temple (1984) or the
mountain railways of India
(1999).
It took my first visit to Baroda
last winter to learn of it – the 16th century Champaner Pavagarh
archaeological park in Gujarat, so designated
in 2004. At the former royal Gaekwad capital, with a current population of about
three million, its art scene abuzz with 300-plus practicing contemporary
artists, each day brought a reference to the wonders of Champaner.
Tantalized, I allow my friend Malavika to whisk me away to the
former capital city on her hot pink scooter, our helmets strapped on, visors
down. Giant trucks drone past on the national highway to Ahmedabad, 159 km to
the north, interspersed with stuttering two-wheelers, an Ambassador, a Scorpio,
then a Sumo at breakneck speed.
A rickety tempo wheezes by, bearing saffron-clad pilgrims,
their tridents raised. ‘They are off to the Mahakali temple atop Pavagarh,’
says Malavika, steering her bike through the maze on wheels. ‘Some folks trek
to the top of the garh or fort.
Others choose to take the cable car up…’
But we bypass Pavagarh on our day trip, choosing to
concentrate on the 16th century pre-Mughal Islamic ruins of
Champaner. In over an hour, we cover the 48 km. northeast, to halt at an
innocuous white signboard. It reads, ‘Ek minar ki masjid’ (mosque with one minar).
It is one of 36 sites across six sq. km., protected by the
Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). The others include vestiges,
fortifications, palaces, residences, a cenotaph, stepped wells, agricultural
structures, even water facilities from the eighth to the 14th centuries.
The single stone minar towers into the cloud-free sky,
graffiti scrawled on its upper reaches. Scattered on the ground around are fragments
of carved lotuses, crumbling pillars, geometric patterns on friezes numbered
for re-assembly.
Which muezzin called the faithful to prayer at this masjid?
How long ago did this site ebb from life?
Champaner, I learn, was founded by the 8th
century king Vanraj Chavda. Erudite guesses say it was named after his friend,
a general named Champa or Champaraj. By the late 15th century, the
Khichi Chauhan Rajputs held Pavagarh fort, which towered over the town.
The young sultan of Gujarat,
Mahmud Begada, was determined to capture Pavagarh. He succeeded on November 21,
1484, after a 20-month-long siege. Over the next 23 years, he rebuilt a capital
city renamed Muhammadabad. Later, he relocated to Ahmedabad, from where he
reigned till his death. Champaner finally fell to an attack by Mughal emperor
Humayun in 1535.
The sleepy town, where Marutis and cycles jitter through the
narrow lanes behind crumbling fortifications, are a tribute to Mahmud’s architectural
imagination. It reaches its acme at the Jami Masjid. Set on a high plinth, its two
300-metre minarets tower above the landscape, while the central dome is richly
patterned with graded stones. Its 172 ornamented pillars are set amidst seven
elegant mihrabs or pulpits. But the
eye is repeatedly riveted by the masjid’s multi-patterned, intricate stone jalis that overlook mossy walls and
motorbikes that wheeze by, their turbanned riders cool to urban intruders like
us.
Malavika at the kabutarkhana overlooking the lake
Gazing at leafy boughs that sway past stone niches, we
wonder at the rise and fall of Champaner. How did its citizens feel about the medieval
centre for silk and cotton textiles, besides sword manufacture? How many
perished in the battle against Humayun at the Atak Gate, its catapult stands armed
to hurl stone missiles? History notes that when the British came to rule the
town in the early 19th century, its population was barely 500.
Radiating outward from the central Jami Masjid, arterial
roads lead to the city’s nine main gates, adjacent to the remains of elevated
mosques. The Hauz-i-Vazu, a large open-air tank for rainwater harvesting,
adjoins the main mosque. Water-wise, Mahmud created narrow ledges at the base
of slopes to contain downhill streams, leading to interconnected lakes, and
finally to the largest Vada Talav in the plains.
An abandoned carved bracket at the first masjid we chanced upon
Stopping, looking, riding on, we come across a
well-preserved helical well en route to the Jami Masjid. At the base of the
hill stands the Hissar-in-Khas or the royal palace. Thousand year old Hindu and
Jain temples dot the plains around.
By noon, hot air fans our faces. Visors up, as we search for
a kabutarkhana or pigeon roost. We
ask half a dozen strangers before we arrive at a serene pavilion. It overlooks a
picturesque lake, where water birds skim, glide and dive for prey. Frozen in
time, farmers plough the fields beyond for wheat, maize and pulses as egrets
preen the lumbering bullocks. Across the road, delicate fronds fan the ancient
bird-free roost.
Once back in Baroda,
we mull over why Champaner seems familiar, even to a first-time visitor like me.
Does it recall Hampi in its layout and breadth of vision? Or replicate features
of the Jama Masjid at Delhi or Agra? Not quite.
Out of the blue, the answer looms before us. When did we
turn such slowpoke quizzers? It was the fictional location for the Oscar-nominated
2001 mega-screen hit, ‘Lagaan,’
though shot in Kutch. In a trice, the Champaner
saga takes on a new hue beyond movie mania.
(Originally published in The Hindu Business Line in January 2011)
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