A Magic Carpet Ride !!!

During the last years of Muhammad Bin Tughlaq's reign many of his southern commanders broke free from the Delhi sultanate taking advantage of the loosening grip of the Sultan to establish their own kingdoms. The Bahmani Kingdom established by Zafar Khan alias Hasan Gangu alias Alauddin Hasan with its capital at Gulbarga is the most important. He ascended the throne as Allauddin Bahman Shah.

After the demise of Firoz Shah Bahmani, Capital of Bahmanis was shifted to Bidar by Ahmed Shah Wali, ninth Bahmani ruler. He was moving his capital farther away from Hampi, Capital of the great Vijayanagara Empire, bulwark against Muslim rule in South India. Bidar fort was completely rebuilt by him and his next two successors by demolishing the already existing structure possibly constructed during Kalyana Chalukya period.

It was pretty cold for a Hyderabad morning when I and Hareesh left for Bidar, planning to reach there by 8.00 am . Bidar in Karnataka is just 135 KM from Hyderabad. Bidar is a dusty and hot place perched at the top as if it were a crown on some regal head, a crown buried in oblivion. But it was December and the weather turned pleasant soon.

Soon we were on the Highway in Hareesh's car with a thin traffic of trucks. We stopped over for a smoke right outside Kukatpally and made a tentative itinerary. We would visit the fort, tombs and Gurudwara before heading back.
Just on the outskirts we came across farmers transporting sugarcane to the mills and families travelling on bullock carts to the city.



There was a convoy of carts taking sugarcane to the mills. It was an idyllic scene and I wondered how long this could continue. With India embracing free market and trying to integrate with the global economy, Indian farmer is on the verge of extinction. I remembered my own childhood and visits to my village, the tall sugarcane fields with a small crusher right amidst them where jaggery ( Brown, coarse sugar) was made. The night long romps with cousins and friends eating hot jaggery.


We passed through Sangareddy, a small town and through Zaheerabad. There we bought some Guavas, just ripening. I smelt the aroma of the fresh fruit and remembered reading Garcia Marquez. In Latin America they keep a bowl of ripe Guavas in the room instead of spraying some chemical room freshener.
Personally I don’t like ripe Guavas and their nauseating smell of ripeness. The skin is a cadaverous yellow. Pale and sickly. The Ripe already has a certain decay clinging to it. I prefer fruit that are neither raw nor fully ripe. Guavas, which are in the process of becoming, on their way to attaining their full scope and range before withering away. Fruit in transit, I like to call them. They are more interesting and taste good.

We reached Bidar and immediately proceeded towards the fort. It was magnificent with a moat running all round it. There were ruins of huge palaces with colored tiles and built with black granite.

We also saw the solah Kambh (16 pillars) Mosque which was getting a face lift.

Bidar was mostly ruled by two Dynasties, Bahmanis and Barid Shahis.

Any talk about Bidar will be incomplete if I did not tell you all about a fascinating personality who was Vazir or Prime Minister to three Bahmani rulers. He was a warrior, a scholar, and a diplomat par excellence. He was also a philanthropist and built many Mosques etc. He was Mohammud Gavan, a native of Persia. He built the Madarasa of Mohammad Gavan, a imposing structure, a religious college with a library that held more than five thousand titles!!!
Scholars and students came from all parts of the Islamic world to study here. Struck by lightening and public apathy, it is in ruins today.

There is a tradition of Sufi saints all over India particularly in those areas where Muslim rule was predominant. Sufism in India is a synthesis of Vedic thought and Islam. These saints came from far flung places in the Islamic world and Baba Budan came from Ethiopia to Chickmaglur in Karnataka and is credited with bringing Coffee beans to turn Chickmaglur into the Coffee bowl of India and the world.

There is another very interesting Sufi saint of Bidar, Baba Rahmatullah Kirmani. His Dargah is on the way to the Bahmani Tombs and he seems to have been held in high esteem by the People. He is supposed to have come from Kirman in Persia flying a Magic Carpet to Bidar, taking just One and a Half hours for the journey!!! It is very much possible that he was brought by the Barid Shahi rulers to crown them and gain some sort of legitimacy after they became independent of Bahmanis.
Bidar is also an important place for Sikh pilgrimage and Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion came to Bidar during his early travels. There was acute shortage of potable water and touched by the plight of the common folk he is said to have moved some rubble with his toe and fresh water sprang up at the spot!

Today there is the Karanja reservoir to supply water to the parched lands of Bidar. This was built quite recently even though it is a known fact of many centuries that water is scarce in these parts.

We visited the Bahmani Tombs and it was by far the most impressive of all the ruins that stand today. It reminds one of Shelly's Ozymandias and you can't but wonder at the hopelessness of it all. Yet you find ruler after ruler trying to attain immortality through building gigantic monuments . It is the same all over the world and one more proof that Men are the same all over at all times.

We decided to visit Basavakalyana. A most fascinating story unraveled in these parts in the 12th century. It is the story of Sharanas, Jangamas and Vachanas. A protestant religion came into being; in order to give new life to a stagnant and decadent social order. At the helm was a minister in the Chalukya rule, Basavanna. This town before him was simply known as Kalyana, Capital of the Chalukya Kingdom and after him as Basavakalyana. It shows no signs of its earlier greatness(apart from the ruined fort), having lost prestige long back, turning into one of the many tens of thousands of such nondescript towns in India.

Then at a little distance from the town was Anubhava Mantapa.It was an incredible experience to tread the ground on which the Vachanakaras had trod and harangued with the people. Allama, Basavanna, Akka, Siddarama, and a thousand other Sharanas sang here. The power of the spoken word was demonstrated here with a decisiveness that lasts to this day. Poetry was written in simple everyday language. The deepest, most profound thoughts were discussed in the common Man's language. In case you want to experience the beauty of these Vachanas, read “Speaking of Shiva” an anthology by AK Ramanujan, a brilliant translation from Kannada to English.This is a pioneering work of translation and is regarded as the work of a genius adept in English, Kannada and Tamil.

There was a serious attempt to liberate the people from the clutches of organised religion and the cultural hegemony of a select few.These privileged classes had maintained steadfastly their privileges through a vice-like grip on Language,Temples and Priesthood that can put today’s business Corporations and Intellectual Property lawyers to shame. The caste system was rigid affording no opportunity for escape or for upward social mobility. Birth determined your social and material condition. All knowledge and Education was the sole prerogative of very few in society.

To the sharanas, Body became the temple and Work, Worship. Through work you could attain salvation. One need not be born a Brahmin, know Vedas, perform Homa, Havana or undertake pilgrimages to holy places to attain "Moksha" or salvation. Whatever a Man's occupation, doing his work diligently was enough to attain liberation from the eternal cycle of births and rebirths.Trying to rid people of superstitions they were ridiculed and persecuted. Basavanna’s attempts at intercaste marriage ended tragically.
Most ironically they have built a temple for Basavanna!

Meanwhile,the Juggernaut of Sanathana Dharma rolls on swallowing, ingesting and excreting religions and movements. Buddha is supposed to be a reincarnation Of Vishnu and Charvaka's Atheism an offshoot of Vedic philosophy!!!

Hair apparent.... Hair Un-apparent!?

During the visit to Gurudwara we were asked to cover our heads before we entered the Sanctum Sanctorum. This got me thinking. Why this dislike for hair? Every faith and culture seems to be prejudiced in this aspect.
Long hair has been celebrated in every literature of the world. Long tresses have maddened lovers for ages. While shiny, black hair is loved in the East, it is the blond that is held in high esteem in the West.Hair as black as the night, they say and that is as it should be since the night is a beautiful and a mysterious time.

It is understandable to cover your head in the kitchen lest some of it drop onto the food you are cooking. A swimmer wears a smooth cap to reduce friction since every split second matters. A king wears the crown as a symbol of his authority.

But we also see cutting hair as a symbol of renunciation. Buddha, after leaving his family and riches in search of the Eternal Truth, shaved his head at the first opportunity. Jains go a step further and pluck their hair by their roots enduring excruciating pain. Monks of every faith shave their heads to a severe gloss. Muslim women and Christian Nuns as also some Hindu women cover their heads. Sikhs entomb theirs in a Turban.
When did Headgear become a part of the Human dress code? What made them adopt it? When did it attain fame and prestige? Was it the clime? The various headgear of every country makes for a fascinating study.........
On the outskirts of today's Bidar there is a very interesting temple. It is in a cave and a stream runs through it. The Idol is a good 600 feet inside the cave and you have to wade through chest high water to reach it.
The God is Narasimha (Nara = Man and Simha = Lion) He is the God with the face of a lion and the body of a Man. This is another incarnation of Lord Vishnu, come down to Earth to slay a Demon, Hiranyakashipu and save the world from his evil clutches. Here in the Bidar cave he is Jharini Narasimha Swamy or Lord Narasimha of the stream. Jhari, which is a beautiful Kannada word, means Stream or rivulet. I had almost forgotten the word and felt a high on recollecting it. Jaaru in Kannada means Slide. A stream is forever sliding and slithering. Did Jhari bring about Jaaru?
In another temple close by devotional music was being played by a Master Musician and his group.



This was our last place of visit and we were seen off by a lovely pair of birds perched atop electric lines running outside the Temple.

The Sultan - Boredom in the Boudoir

"There just wasn't enough water" thought the Sultan. He was in his Boudoir, alone. His intense gaze was fixed at the far corner of the ceiling but he saw nothing. Many thoughts were jostling for attention in his mind.

He was in his favorite chair brought all the way from Persia. It had the softest upholstery and he felt suspended in thin air as he tried to sink deeper into it."They make very good things there...." murmured the Sultan and immediately looked around if anybody had heard him talk to himself. Of course there was no one and remembered having instructed all to be left undisturbed. But he knew there lurked just outside, his slave of many years, for a clap, the sound of his clearing throat or the rustle of his clothes.

Sometimes the Sultan was astonished at this slave, was even afraid of him secretly and believed he could read his mind......Many a time, even as he struggled within to find the right words to ask for something, the slave would be there with the thing he wanted.

The plan was perfect. Being closer to the Deccan would have put an end to the persistent rebellions of his southern commanders. This was the reason he had wanted his Capital shifted from Delhi. But he was misunderstood from the beginning. The people had refused to move.

"Their arses grow roots" said the Sultan out loud and felt immediately ashamed. But it was true that it took a Royal proclamation and the threat of Death to get them moving.

Finally it was time to move and he had wanted Delhi searched to see if anyone refused to come. His Death threats had worked. Apart from a Blind man and a lame guy every one had packed up.
However people had refused to cooperate. "No water" they said which he could somewhat understand but they repeatedly said they did not "belong to Daulatabad" which he never understood. His own forefathers were from Persia. They had travelled far to this unknown land and with Valour and cunning had built this empire. Many of his wives were Hindus and this was now his home.

Alas, attacks by the Mongols had started almost immediately after his departure from Delhi. This was an even bigger threat than the fickle rebellions of his Dakhani Commanders and had the power to dismember his Empire. Finally he had to relent and shift back the entire population to Delhi.

The news he received from his spies in the South was not good. Things were not as he had imagined. All the bribes he had given his nobles had served no purpose. They had just grown fat and continued their intrigues against him. Some of them in Daulatabad were inciting his Commanders to break free from the Sultanate.

But the Sultan was determined to keep his territories intact. It had taken great effort by his father to reach thus far. And he had waged his own struggle to get at the throne though he did not want to particularly dwell on this aspect.
It pained him to think of his father. He was aware that people whispered among themselves that he had killed his father.( "Regicide? Patricide?" thought the Sultan ). But was it not true that a pavillion had collapsed on him causing him to Die instantly?

The Sultan felt sad and thirsty. He was now hunched forward and was staring at his slippers. His mouth had gone dry and he tried to swallow his spit but ended up coughing. He sat up straight only to see his Slave with a pitcher and glass. He stared at him blankly while the slave stood motionless. The Sultan was angry now. He had not asked for water. He wanted to shout and drive him out of the room but no sound ensued from his lips. Instead he raised his arm weakly and the very next instant found a glass of cool water in his fist.
After drinking deep he waved his slave away and saw him back out with his head bowed low to the ground.

There was a buzz in his ear now. Sometimes it was very faint but if he concentrated hard he could hear it. It was always there in the background and sometimes it roared. He felt very agitated at such times. He had not confided this to anyone but had furtively tried to find the reason for this.While talking with the Learned or travellers from other lands ( who were always pestering him for something or the other) he would casually allude to this unwelcome buzzing in his ear. He would say something like "I heard about a noble in Mandu who gets a ringing in his ear for no apparent reason...isn't that funny ?" and he would laugh loudly all the while hoping somebody in the group could explain why. But no one had any clue.

The Sultan realised with a pang of terror that he was skirting the real issue. He had to face it once for all. He was a true soldier. Anybody who had seen him in battle would vouchsafe it. He could sever a Man's head from his body with one stroke of his sword. He could out race anyone in the entire sub-continent on his steed.

Yes, he had to face it. There was a serious problem in the South. There was definite information that Zafar Khan in Daulatabad was planning to establish his own rule independent of him. "Ungrateful bastard" thought the Sultan. This Zafar Khan was planning to fortify Gulbarga down south, planning to make it his Capital. Sufi Pirs there could crown him and give him legitimacy. There was information from a very credible source in Persia that already a Pir, well known in the entire islamic world, had left for Hindustan.

The Sultan weighed his options.

An expedition to the South with his army involved lot of planning. More than that it required lot of money. With a sinking heart the Sultan realised his Coffers were nearly empty. His troops too were demoralised and he could not count on all his commanders to unwaveringly support him.......

He did not want to think about Money. Issuing Copper coins instead of Gold & Silver was a grand Idea far ahead of it's time. He knew that for sure. But they started to make counterfeits almost immediately. He had put many of the counterfeiters to Death but fakes only increased.

"One day people will definitely use token currency" thought the Sultan. He had to give back Silver coins for all the Copper coins that were brought to the treasury.There was no way to determine if the copper coins that the people brought in for exchange were minted at the Royal Mint or in their own kitchens. At the end of it all he was driven nearly to bankruptcy.

A prolonged drought had set in soon after making it difficult to collect taxes from Land owners which only made matters worse.

The Sultan by now had receded far into himself. He had bent forward and there was spittle at the corner of his mouth. He pulled it in with a loud snort and immediately regretted making the noise. This would bring in his slave and he did not want to see him just now. He wanted to be alone.But surprisingly the Slave did not venture inside.

Far away he could hear the Muezzin at the mosque calling the faithful to evening prayers. He was sweating but felt a slight chill and wanted to hug himself closer. He did not move and went on gazing at the tip of his sandals. Suddenly it dawned on him that his time was over. There was no point in struggling. He would have to hold on to whatever he can and pretend everything was fine..............

Gangas...Yellundur...

In Yellundur, right opposite the Gowreeshwara temple there is a breakfast joint that can give Bangalore Restaurants a Inferiority complex. Dosas are excellent and served with Beetroot curry. You can get good Kesari Bath too.

But what is more satisfying is the Temple itself. The entire outer wall is carved painstakingly and beautifully. There are scenes from religious, cultural and everyday life carved in friezes. Dancers are portrayed with grace and poise and it is evident that the sculpting of dancing couples and figurines conform to the tenets of Natyashastra - The ancient Indian treatise on Dance.

Rock pillars inside the temple are fully carved and one has a beautiful image of a dancing couple.


Also, there are scenes of monkeys copulating on the outer frieze of the temple. This aspect of Indian Temple Architecture, containing scenes of Sexual Intercourse, has caused much debate. The actual purpose could be to show scenes from the ordinary, material life, portraying their significance in the lives of Men along with life in the other world which is what a temple is all about !!!


The temple must probably belong to the Ganga period and Yellundur must have been an important place during their rule, being so very close to their Capital, Talakadu. Gangas were a local Dynasty and ruled long from 350 AD - 1000 AD. They were under the overlordship of the Chalukyas, Hoysalas and the Vijayanagar Kings but had a fair measure of independence.

The role of Gangas in the Political and Cultural life of Karnataka and the Kannada people is significant.They patronised Arts and literature. They had a very organised form of Government. They were surrounded by thick, evergreen forests of the Western Ghats that provided a natural barrier protectiing it against invaders. They depended more on diplomacy than war to settle disputes.

Shivamara ( Ruled, 788 AD-816 AD), a Ganga King, wrote Gajamatha Kalpana in Sanskrit which is a study on Elephants. Gangas levied a Elephant Tax, Gaja Kara, on their subjects and used it to maintain a huge Elephant Army under a seperate command.
They were the very first rulers in India to have had a fleet of Elephants in the Army for Military purposes. They had a highly organised system to trap, tame, train and use Elephants which were found in abundance in the forests around Talakadu. Their Elephant brigade was a very effective deterrent agains ambitious kings in their neighbourhood.

The numbers of Elephants has declined vastly but this area is still Elephant land and we were lucky enough to spot a herd and a huge bull while returning from BR Hills.
Just as you leave Yellundur you come across a rock memorial that are called Mastikallu or Veeragallu. In the old days raids on villages by thieves and bandits and dacoits was frequent. Especially if the king was weak or the place is far removed from the capital.

Young and able men gave up their lives protecting the Honour of their village women, property and Cattle, the last of which was the real source of wealth in an agrarian economy.
In memory of these martyrs the humble villagers, many times with sanction from the king, erected these memorials.

One final thing: All the historical Information I quote is from Memory. Most of the time it is conjecture. So, do your own research and I would love to have friends correct me.

Biligirirangana Betta - BR Hills

Hills are always fascinating. From my early years I have had an enduring interest in Hills. I have found them always to be at a distance and seem mysterious. I can remember the time we stayed in Pandavapura.Our house was at the town's edge and there at a short distance was a hillock. The very first Bonfire that we built was there some 30 years back. I would go to that hill with my friends and the treasures it threw up were priceless. Unbelievably smooth pebbles, strange insects, Bird's nests, strange but friendly dogs and so on......People quarried there mining for rocks and blasted the hill little by little. This quarrying left huge craters amid the hills and after the monsoons they became small ponds for us boys to splash around...........

The Hills of the plains have brushes and small tawny growth but not so the Hills of the Western Ghats in the Indian Sub-Continent. Western Ghats is a unique forest Bio-Sphere with a mind boggling range of Flora & Fauna. BR Hills nestles amid these Western Ghats ( Ghats = Hills )

I can remember the first trip we planned to BR Hills. I was still in College and along with my friends JP and Mukesh decided to walk there from Mysore. Our first stop was in Nanjanagudu some 30 Kilometers from Mysore. We rested on the Kabini(?) river bank close to the Srikanteshwara temple. It was already dusk and was pretty dark. The only sound was from the river flow but JP had brought along his Cassette player and we heard Santana and his "Blues for Salvador" the rest of the way to Chamarjanagar.

Once in Chamarajanagar, 60 KM from Mysore, we realised that our legs had become wooden and we could not take another step. So, JP's father was called and we were put up at the Jungle Lodges in KyathadevaraGudi (K Gudi) and our stay there is another story altogether. Ofcourse we never reached BR Hills and I got no opportunity to visit the place until I, Anil, Indra and Maapi decided to travel there.

It was evening when we left Mysore this time and the Sun was already sinking into Sugarcane fields when we reached the outskirts.



We were in a hurry as the forest is protected by Law and is closed every evening with nobody allowed to get in or out. But we soon reslised that we had left Mysore late and our best course of action would be to stay the night at Santhemaralli, a small town with a PWD Government guest house.

We got up early and were ready to leave by 7.00 am. From Santhemaralli to BR Hills is a very fine drive and with Maapi behind Indra's Santro we were off. The way was splendid, dotted with Trees, Ponds, Hillocks..............

As we got into the Hills proper we noticed fresh dung on the road and decided to inspect. It was clear that a herd of Elephants had just passed by and they were not to be seen. ( I can say this with certainty because on our way back we did spot an Elephant herd and a really huge Bull. Again my camera was wholly inadequate for the task). In any case we did not have the nerve to venture inside the bushes to check.

We were lucky to have had not only good weather and clear skies but also to have spotted the Dhol !!! - the Wild Dog of the Western Ghats. These are not like the African wild dogs that look like emaciated versions of the Hyena with black smudges all over their bodies.
They are blond and almost fair with bushy tails very similar to their African cousins. My camera was a aim and shoot affair with a zoom that was no great shakes and could not get a clear shot at all.

As Maapi took a curve, I spotted a pair of Dhols right in front but they slipped off on seeing the car. I asked Maapi to stop and got down and walked towards the spot where the dogs had dissappeared. As I noticed the two of them, one dog, possibly the Alpha female(????) covered the other behind it and walked slightly to the front and stood staring at me.

I haven't yet told you how the Hills got the name Biligiri Rangana Betta. BR Hills is most famous for the Ranganatha Swamy Temple. Ranganatha Swamy is an Incarnation of Lord Vishnu, one of the Hindu Trinity. Ranganatha Swamy resides on top of the Hill and hence the name Biligiri Rangana Betta!!! The temple is atop the hill and offers some spectcular view of the Ghats.


The steps leading to the Temple are quite steep and Anil could not make it to the top on foot. Also on the way to the Temple I saw the Chariot on which the God is taken on a procession on pre-fixed dates. Every day(?) the Idol is taken round the Temple before Pooja.

Outskirts - Hyderabad

First Farewell

So it was that we cut open a Chameleon, Ravi and I. Ravi as I mentioned was a very early friend. His name meant SUN and he was very dark...these are the contradictions in naming, especially in India.

Chameleons change color, they said, according to the landscape the are in so as to camouflage. That day when we scooped out a Onion and pushed the Chameleon's head inside to anaesthetise, it turned a bright red and stayed that way in torpor...It lay spreadeagled with its legs pinned by steel rivets and panting...we could see the heart pumping. Then to put an end to its suffering Ravi took a knife from the box and cut its heart out.

And ofcourse after a couple of years we had to move from Pandavapura on account of my father's work which needed him to relocate regularly.
To this day I can recall how my heart sank on realising that I would be leaving my friend and going away ....never to see again...

Village Festival at Chikkade

Pandavapura where I made many of my early friends literally means "The Town of Pandavas". They were the Mythological kings in the Indian Epic Mahabharatha.

There was a hill to one side of the town called "Kunti Betta" or Kunti's Hill. Kunti ofcourse was the mother of Pandavas.There was a stone staff at the top, standing erect about 6 feet high.The legend went that Kunti pounded Rice using this Staff to feed her children....

And many of my class mates and friends came from nearby villages. And they were prosperous villages too..they grew lots of Sugarcane, had plenty of livestock.

As is the custom in every village, one day during spring is celebrated as the Village festival day.The village God will be worshipped and there will be a feast.
Dodde Gowda, Somashekar, Chenne Gowda, Venktesh were all my friends from Chikkade, a village near Pandavapura.

People eagerly waited for the festival and started making preparations well in advance. Relatives and friends had to be invited. The house had to be spruced up. In those days they layered the ground in front of their houses with cow dung.This would keep the sorroundings dust free.

I can remember my trip to Chikkade,a couple of Kilometers from Padavapura ,very well.It was the first time I was going out of town on my own and I had a hard time convincing my mother to let me go. I don't remember if walked or took one of those rickety buses but I remember my friends waiting for me at the edge of the village .

I could hear drums beating and film music from public address systems. I could make out the dust kicked up by all the people jostling..they were selling all kinds of colored sweets..balloons..fruit juices of various psychedelic colours... in large glass pots...
There was a kind of candy, glowing a bright pink and it was rolled into a ball on a high wooden staff. It was very elasatic and the seller would break off a piece from the ball and roll it into any shape you wanted...you could have the candy rolled like a watch and wear it on your wrist before the temptation became too great and you ate it...