A tragic irony is palpable at grandiose palaces of yore where the caress of time has been unforgiving, where elements of nature have conspired to erase the legacy of ambitious kings and mocked at the lofty designs of humans. Withering murals, crumbling bastions, rusted cannons, faded frescoes, unkempt gardens and broken colourful tiles in ragged palaces with aching foundations and weeping walls pine for pomp and glory of bygone days. Pigeons and bats inhabit dark rooms and ornate halls where the music of opulence has been usurped by uneasy silence.
“A palace that men build for themselves in uneasy dreams, the work of goblins rather than of men,” Rudyard Kipling had once mused about the palace of Bundi nestled in the Aravalli Hills in the Hadoti region of Rajasthan. The grandeur of this flourishing bastion of Hada Rajputs has worn off, but the decrepit remnants of their rule that dot the town of Bundi have a rustic charm to bewitch wanderers.
Fluffy cotton clouds stroll aimlessly, taunting the sun on a pleasant monsoon morning. Sunshine filters through and illuminates the massive walls of Bundi Palace jutting from the green hillside. Above the palace, walls of Taragarh Fort stretch out like arms hugging the mountain and admiring their reflection in the Nawal Sagar Lake peppered with islands and a submerged temple dedicated to Varuna. Save for a few foreign tourists and enthusiastic shopkeepers, the streets are deserted, and as one lumbers up a steep pathway leading to the palace and fort, the chatter of the town dissipates.
To visit Taragarh Fort, one must walk past the soaring gateway to the palace and Chitrasala, the picture gallery, and continue uphill till one reaches a dilapidated gate; thereafter the path, shrouded with shrubs, climbs gently along the hill to the fort’s entrance. Unlike other hill forts of Rajasthan, Taragarh has surrendered to the onslaught of nature but evokes a tinge of nostalgia. The silent walkways within the fort walls yearn for a human touch. This disquieting stillness is only broken by rustling leaves and the holler of monkeys. The beautiful baoris (step wells) in the fort with their algae-ridden water fight the advance of wild grass. The vacant battlements, waning murals, dank corridors, stained glass windows and desolate chambers in the small palace within the complex, called Rani Mahal, are pitiful and yet retain an air of royalty. The underground tunnels dug in the hillside have been lost to apathy. The impressive bastions do not shoulder thundering cannons, but gaze towards the rolling hills on one side and the town of Bundi with its blue houses on the other.
In the Chitrasala, housed in a portion of the palace called Ummed Mahal, the colours of life haven’t lost their sheen. Intricate miniature murals in red, blue, black, yellow and green recreate courtly proceedings, festivals, hunting trips and battle marches along with illustrations of stories from the Mahabharata and Ramayana. The imprints are influenced by Mughal and Mewar styles of painting. The adjoining section of the palace is accessible by a high gate called Hathi Pol that has delicate stonework of which a couple of elephants flanking the doorway are noteworthy. This section has the Ratan Daulat (hall of public audience) and a number of mahals added over the years by different rulers—Chhatra Mahal with exquisite grille stonework, Phool Mahal with some paintings and Badal Mahal with its elaborate murals on its ceiling depicting various aspects of Krishna.
Bundi receives decent rainfall during monsoon when its lakes overflow and the step wells are flush with water. Though many of the step wells have fallen into disrepair, the detailed stone carvings in Rani ki Baori (Queen’s step well) still display glimpses of brilliance. A centre of social gatherings in the past, the step well has arching toranas, crafted pillars and sculpted doorways showcasing Rajput architecture. The 84-pillared cenotaph is another landmark in a town noted for its murals and figures of deities.
In winters, thousands of lotuses will bloom on the lake and the hills will shed their green to adorn a cloak of brown. Monkeys will create ruckus in the fort, nature and human aspiration will resume their scuffle, visitors will be overcome with awe in the Chitrasala and bats will dwell in forsaken rooms of Bundi’s palace. And the treasures of Bundi that have suffered years of anonymity will continue to lure unsuspecting tourists.