(Continued from Agra: The Fort [Red Sandstone])
| Featured Photo: “White Marble Pavilion with Balcony” Agra Fort, India—2011 |
According to Wikipedia, the Agra Fort can perhaps more accurately be described as a walled city. That was certainly how it seemed when I reached the spacious entry courtyard where the Jahangiri Mahal was located. But after my maze-like entry through the twists and turns of the Amar Singh Gate, I felt somewhat disoriented. As I proceeded through the fort’s interior buildings, this feeling of being lost would persist.
It was only toward the end of my exploration that the fort’s overall plan became clear to me, as it had evolved under the Mughal emperors. I’d noticed a sign reminding me of the special status of Agra Fort as a World Heritage Monument (like the Taj Mahal), a designation by UNESCO awarded to sites with “exceptional universal value” of cultural or natural significance.
Nearby, a helpful sign showed the fort’s relatively simple layout: its foundation formed like a half-moon, bordered on the east by the Yamuna River.
The map indicated a large portion of the fort is still used by the Indian military and therefore closed to the public. This point was made clear to me earlier during my visit. I had been observing a quiet corner of the fort where a lovely tree stood beside the sandstone wall. I noticed the inviting arched entrance was blocked with a black iron gate. As I approached to get a better look, an armed guard raised himself from the shadows to let me clearly know I should come no closer. I turned to go, but when he sat down again, I turned back to snap this nice composition of the tree, wall, and arch (including the darkened tip of his shoe by the gate, visible against the sunlight beyond) before I continued exploring the complex’s unrestricted areas.
As to the historic sections of the fort managed by India’s Archeological Survey, the plan showed a series of courtyards and adjoining structures. But at the time of my visit, as I wandered through the array of buildings, I was unable to readily discern whether I was looking at a place where emperors might have received guests, or where they slept, or bathed, dressed, dined, or prayed.
Returning to the start of my visit to Agra Fort—after the entry gates, the garden courtyard, and the palace of Jahangir, with the large stone bathtub out front, beyond the reclining man in green pyjamas, and on to the partial ruins of Akbar’s palace—I continued through the labyrinthine passageways of red sandstone…
…entering a stately paved courtyard…
…with lavishly carved eaves and beams…
…and capitals…
…and columns, screens, and walls.
I happened upon a small balcony that provided a visual timeline of the fort’s history: its original red sandstone construction to the south…
…contrasted with the later white marble structures added by Shah Jahan to the north.
This architectural juncture marked a transition, both in imperial succession and style. Following a path through rooms of red brick and white stucco, I was entering Shah Jahan’s Palace.
Originally painted in bright colors and embossed in gold, I now found the ornamentation to be rather sorry-looking: the lapis domed ceilings and arches…
…the frescoed alcoves…
…and wall borders (complete with a dash of modern etched graffiti).
I emerged into a small courtyard—in a much better state of repair—having an elegant, arched pavilion of white marble topped with gilded copper tiles, and a narrow balcony beyond…
…viewed front-on in today’s Featured Photo. I reached the balcony railing along with a family who stood gazing eastward to the Taj Mahal.
It was then I remembered the tale of treachery and tragedy that befell Shah Jahan, which I’d read in my travel books preparing for my trip to Agra. The story goes like this: While Jahangir reigned as the fourth Mughal emperor…
…his third son, Shah Jahan—at the tender age of 16—began his own additions to Agra Fort.
When his father died, Shah Jahan—at the age of 36—assumed the royal mantle, although not without a bit of treachery of his own: he “eliminated” most of his chief rivals to secure the throne. As the fifth emperor, Shah Jahan displayed all the traditional Mughal qualities of administrative and military élan, and his reign marked the zenith of Mughal architectural achievements. He is best remembered, of course, as the creator of the Taj Mahal—arguably the most beautiful building on earth—to be the final resting place for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal.
When he was 65, Shah Jahan fell suddenly and seriously ill, and he appointed his first-born and favorite son Dara Shikoh as his heir-apparent.
This nomination led to a bloody war of succession among Shah Jahan’s sons, with his pious third son, Aurangzeb, emerging victorious to become the sixth—and last—of the great Mughal emperors. (Aurangzeb eventually died with no clear successor, resulting in a rapid disintegration of the empire.)
As for Aurangzeb’s father, the thirty-year reign of the ailing Shah Jahan ended ignominiously. Even though he recovered from his illness, Aurangzeb declared his father incompetent to rule and imprisoned him in Agra Fort.
And what became of Aurangzeb’s older brother, former rival, and Shah Jahan’s hand-picked successor? Despite initially evading Aurangzeb’s army, Dara Shikoh was eventually captured, whereupon Aurangzeb had him executed, considering him both a political threat and traitor to Islam. Soon afterward, the cruel Aurangzeb sent a present to his captive father one night while he sat for dinner. As instructed, the guards presented the box and conveyed this message, “King Aurangzeb, your son, sends this to let you see that he does not forget you.” It’s written that Shah Jahan fell unconscious upon opening the box to find the head of his favorite son, Dara Shikoh.
Shah Jahan spent the remaining eight years of his life under house arrest in Agra Fort where—as legend has it—he would stand gazing wistfully down the Yamuna at the mausoleum of his beloved Mumtaz. When Shah Jahan died—at the ripe old age of 74—Aurangzeb had his body carried across the river to lie alongside his wife in his peerless tomb.
Recalling this sad story as I stood at the balcony staring across to the Taj Mahal…
…I pictured Shah Jahan himself, held captive by his ruthless son, looking out from Agra Fort some 350 years earlier. After contemplating this, everything I saw during the rest of my visit to the fort seemed to evoke the life and times of Shah Jahan, both as emperor and as prisoner.
(To be continued…)
Why must all of history be so sad? And how can such beauty be born of such treachery? Great stories today, Mark. Thank you for sharing your photos and thoughts.
Your questions, Mare, are part of the eternal human journey. History is so sad…and yet so full of stories of joy, hope, and possibility. So much pain and suffering comes from man’s thirst for power, which those of us who do not share that goal have difficulty understanding. Celebrating the beautiful achievements helps soothe the soul. Such a complex intertwining of good and bad. Such mixed emotions. Very much reflelective of my journey to India – amazing and confounding.
What a sad, sad story which for me, mars the beauty of the intricate carvings captured so well in your close-up photos.
Yes, the sad story of the Mughal emperors’ thirst for power, no matter the cost, is painful to hear. Yet it’s not unlike imperial conquests in any culture, in any country, in our past, or even in the present. I understand your comment about that history taking away some of the grandeur of the architecture and artistry. For me, only half remembering the tragic tale at the time I was visiting the fort, I was still so amazed by all that I saw. But that joy in my heart was bittersweet due to the human suffering that accompanied the creations. And again, the mixed emotions I felt while in India are some of the most vivid memories – both good and bad – from all of my travels.
What a sad pall is cast over this incredibly beautiful and opulent architecture. There is a Gatsby-like quality of melancholy to this amazing description of human creativity, capability and achievement on one hand. And, on the other hand, the same old reminders of human nature involving family squabbling, power grabs from siblings, and political imprisonment and even torture and murder. All taking place on those very same spots. I, of course, had a deep personal connection to that, but again, am gratified to have read and learned of the Mughal emperors. Your visuals complement this story so well. I particularly liked how the fort changed from red sandstone to white marble, seemingly on a personal whim. And your finale, with Shah Jahan held prisoner in the fort staring at the Taj Mahal in the distance, a labor of love that ultimately became a reminder of human cruelty, foolhardiness, and futility as well. Bittersweet, indeed!
Mike, you perfectly captured the beauty and the sadness, the conflict and contradictions of the sights and my feelings at Agra Fort and in India overall. I am thrilled my story and pictures are evoking that experience for you and others. Thank you for the comment!
Such a sad story, but really interesting alongside these photos, makes it easier to picture where everything actually happened and gives it a heavier feel. I’ve really been enjoying all the backstory you’ve added to the trip and the various places you visited with the history behind it all and the photos too!
Thanks, Nate, for the positive feedback about all the backstory I have been including in the posts! Sometimes I wonder whether I might be adding too much detail on these peripheral aspects of the story. But I really enjoy digging into the history and context of where I was and what I saw; it really enhances my own memories and enjoyment from my travels. Glad you feel the same!