Magical experience over the ramparts, Bidar fort

The reddish-brown haze kicked up from the lateritic soil hung over a dry tree. The swirling breeze made it drift helping it to meet the warm southern winds that swooped low across the bastions of the sprawling Bidar fort.  The fast-spreading air mix created a golden brown dusty glow through which we saw one of the seven entrances as our Wagon R rolled on a hump and rumbled over the rough terrain.

We had entered the five hundred plus years old fort complex. What I saw through the windshield stood years at the same spot as it did now.

Broken stone walls, gallant archways eaten away by nature or by cannon balls lay motionless over a section of the fort

The mortar and stone fort under the blue sky looked blackened and battered by nature. These silent ruins had seen horses and warriors as they were seeing our car and us. I stood nowhere in terms of experience and age beside these ancient structures. It had seen the rise and fall of dynasties, it had seen love and happiness among the prince and princess. It had witnessed the innocent and childish calls of children playing with their peers and parents and it had also seen how the swords met and helped the human vociferous greed to annex power.

This dust laden rusted metal display board did not belong to the Bahamani period spoke the history of Bidar fort

From the history itself, it was evident that we were driving over some of the bloodiest battlefields which were ruled by supremacy over the ages. The very thought made my ears warm with nervous elation.

We cleared the gate next to a series of buildings with arched entrances that belonged to a stony building known as the Tarkash Mahal.

Tarkash mahal stood at the edge of a huge ground. The far away dome was one of the entrances to the Bidar fort

The structures in front were huge. They were made of large bricks made of stones. Now broken and derelict, these edifices held years back, the laughter and smiles of men, and women who belonged to the Bahamani dynasty. We planned to visit a couple of monuments that were confined within the fort.

Most of them were in fragments and lay in ruins littered all around. Based on the account from our guide, Jamail, the fort of Bidar had its foundation under the leadership of Ahmad Shah Bahman, sometime in the year 1429 AD. The fort changed hands several times from the Bahamanis to Mughals and finally now rests with the Archaeological Survey of India in the northeastern spec of the state of Karnataka, India. The road through which we drove was one of a kind, combination of sand and rock debris making a hissing sound as the car tyres pushed through them. Surprisingly smooth at places and flanked by open spaces riddled with the red laterite soil.  The broken pieces of the tall rooms and parapets could be seen. Tarkash was built as the living quarters for the Turkish wives of the sultans or kings of Bahamani. 

We walked into them but was inaccessible due to its ruined state. Traces of stucco work and tiles were barely visible.

The plaster and the tiles on Tarkash had long been peeled off. The stucco work is almost invisible as the elements that it got exposed to left only the framework that once reverberated with the jingling  of bracelets and jewelry

Front face of the Tarkash Mahal, the walls that had protected the privacy of the Turkish wives now lay mute and still try to tell the history to the visitors with silence

The fort is not very tall but had a flat wide base spreading across an expansive area. Broken stone and rock faces adorned the fort walls. The ramparts were quite broad and Bidar fort has three morts all around or adjoining channels that remained filled with water in its heydays and acted as the first line of defense against the intruders.

We were parked in front of the Gagan Mahal. Instead of the leashed and restless horses, stood the red Wagon R. The arched gateway gave way to an opening that was well maintained with a green bush that complemented the blue sky above

The Gagan Mahal lay what looked like on the western phase of the ground. Historical account claims that this was erected by the Bahamani kings, however; the Baridi Shahi rulers are known to have changed the configuration of the building at least what Jamail told us. The entire building that stretched several meters exuded a strong foundation laced with grace. Two courts existed with the outer court were perhaps controlled by the palace sentinels.

The court which existed inside the palace belonged to the women of the royal dynasty.

A broken statute of a bull which may had garnished the fort somewhere was kept at the base of a flight of stairs by the museum authorities within the Gagan Mahal complex

We came out from the Gagan Mahal and walked back to our parked car. An old well stood beside a very strongly built stone structure. It was flat and I have tried to zoom in to capture the stone bricks that were used. I am quite certain that an earthquake of an eight plus magnitude hammering for ten minutes may possibly dislodge a brick from it.

I touched the robustness and a shiver ran through my spine.

A section of the stable where long distance horses were made to rest. The structure looked extremely well built. Apart from few stone and mortar bricks breaking off, it had fought with the nature to proclaim its presence

We learned that these were used to keep long-distance horses. The well was built and perhaps fed with the Persian technology of tapping the groundwater using the "Karez" system of the bygone era.

A tumbler carved out of rock and mortar drunkenly looked up at the sky above. It was used by the wayfarers to feed the horses with food and water. I tried pushing it and all I achieved was a neat little abrasion with aching arms. I wondered how long this has been sitting here

We walked towards the central section of the fort, climbed the steps, followed our guide and came across series of rooms with a courtyard in front. The sheer beauty of the place decidedly took our breath away. The extraordinary ornate work that embellished the walls and the ceiling were brilliant.

We were looking at the exceptional beauty of the Rangeen Mahal.

The entrance to the Rangeen Mahal. Wood carvings and inlay work made us dumbfounded

According to Jamail, the palace what we saw was constructed by Mahmud Shah Bahamani. Ali Barid Shah, much later applied craftsmanship of extreme proportions. Ornamented walls and wood carvings were nothing less than a feast for the eyes. I kept on looking at them and thought about the creativity that enshrouded every molecule of this fort.

The slanted roof was supported by wooden pillars and the wooden engravings were at their best. Shall we take a short preview of the gallant work through the eye of the lens?

Wooden columns at the Rangeen Mahal

Carved out of wood, the ceiling was fascinating. The precision and artistic touch lay all over the great palace. We were looking at some of the finest creations of the Deccan trap

Although slowly getting eaten away by the ravages of time, the wooden carvings still had the power to keep a visitor's eyes transfixed

The ceiling had engravings that were infinitely exquisite

Made of wood, the decorative pillars still supported gracefully the top structure with unparalleled beauty of wood carvings

Even the wooden pillars had intricately curved engraved brackets. I wondered the superb skills of the masons and artists of that era. No computers, no modern tools existed yet the consistent and proportionate sections of wood, tiles, and stone emanated both extreme engineering and splendor. How on earth they were able to achieve such fine artwork.

Coloured tiles glinted as the sun rays painted them with yellow light. The beauty was in abundance from every corner.

Fountains lay sculpted into the bedrock of the Rangeen Mahal. If we were to take a plunge back into the time of this place, we would be seeing women of the royalty, giggling, or playing with water and colours to their heart's content. The fountain now lay dried as a desert and stared back at the 21st-century visitors with awe

A couple of decorated fountains lay in the courtyard. The ladies of the royalty with the help of their maids may have spent hours bathing and applying face paints to look their best when the kings and sultans approached these quarters after a battle to soothe their ruffled and flying tempers.

Our faces took on a melancholy filled demeanour as we slowly left the Rangeen Mahal and made our way towards the car to explore the western and southwestern portions of the fort.

Our metal horse parked herself over the fort ground after climbing a gradient. Smashed and destroyed, the long and tall hallways lined up her two sides

Serrated and uneven walls bordered the fort perimeter. The way the broken pieces rested on the ground, it was quite evident that these were blown away by cannon fire. The pieces lay dismembered over a large area as if they were blasted out. The rocky bed had taken on a mantle of low grass that formed a velvet cover over the coarse rock. Red, traces of yellow, white and brown contrasted well under the azure sky above speckled with fluffy white clouds. It had a phenomenal impact. At times, when we sniffed the air, there was a note of earthy smell mixed with that unmistakable whiff of gunpowder.

Perhaps our imaginations ran wild; however, the environment in which we were present had all the recipe of a fort under seize.

The western fort corridor, with the wide rampart, were supported by arched hollows that acted as some sort of a storage. The mort was beyond the wall

I managed to walk or rather climbed on to the parapets and somehow supporting myself, looked at the setting below. A globular structure made of red bricks with a flat top and serrated sections juxtaposed with another end of the fort. The openings faced the road beyond. It was this place where the canons were kept at an angle, ready to be loaded for unleashing firepower at the enemy. A narrow road within the fort ran skirting the inner walls and turned away to its left and disappeared under a heap of rocky buildings.

Vegetation and tree cover were rampant. They had grown at will after the maintenance born out of harsh discipline had ceased after the demise of the fort rulers.

A panoramic view of the fort with its walls, and broken mounds within it that still told the visitor about the fortification it provided to its inmates

We came down and entered the southern section. We had a glimpse of the old armory that fed the multitude of cannons that sprouted through the openings within the walls. None of them could be seen but the elevated squares built of hard rock told the story where the gunpowder and the metals clashed.

The armory with its tall walls and hard rocky flats helped the soldiers load and reload the cannons to unleash their fire power 

We had reached the southern frontier of the Bidar fort. All that was present were buildings, perhaps living quarters or storage of some sort. Broken and disheveled beyond recognition. Unfortunately, there was no mention of these by way of metal placards as we had seen in few other vantage points. Our guide eventually told us that these were living quarters for the kings during the summer months. The southerly winds wafted through the tall arched openings.

The high roof standing close to thirty or forty feet made the inner chambers cooler than the rocky ground in which they existed. This was Deccan we were trudging. Summers are furnaces.

Living quarters of kings and queens. The building had lost its glory with its bared skeletons visible. The thick mortar and stone plaster at places still hold good but the emptiness screamed of loneliness 

We had reached the farthest point of the Bidar fort. The rocks, the stones, the fallen bricks, the beautiful inlay work, and engravings touched our heart and soul. We looked at the enormity of the creative talent and boldness of conquest that these great dynasties displayed.

It fascinated us beyond words. If the situation permits, I will again visit this fort and make an attempt to feel those personalities who walked, and lived, the song of ancient life.

As we turned to leave the fort grounds, I had a last look at the vastness of the shadowy structures. It was then, our guide showed a circular plate, all black that looked like gun metal with white inlay work. He asked us to follow him and quipped, "Hey senor, won't you see the famous Bidri craftsmanship ?"

The watch told us that we had another two hours after which the sun will fade over the western horizon.

The vibrant land will not let us go. The Wagon R fired up and we took to the town streets to touch the glory of yet another facet of Bidar, the Bidriware.  Interested ?

I am sure you are...