Tales from beyond the sands of time – Chittaurgarh.
Part 6 of Rooh – E – Rajasthan.
To read part 5 – Click here.
To read part 4 – Click here.
To read part 3 – Click here.
To read part 2 – Click here.
To read part 1 – Click here.
Chittaur
History, is me.
By the time I reached the outskirts of this underexposed historical town, it was mid afternoon. The sun was right on top and bearing down with all its heat. Turning off the National Highway towards Chittaur was like exiting a party. The moment I was off, the rush of vehicles at high speed vanished. So did the smooth road actually. My first obstacle was a railway crossing. I had been standing there for quite a while waiting for the train to cross. Which it hadn’t, so I dismounted and stretched my legs. The train was nowhere to be seen.
The locals and I got talking. I broke the ice by asking them the way to the RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation) Chittaur hotel. They gave me a general direction and then came back with questions of their own. Was my bike a bullet? Where was I coming from? What was I up to? And the most common of them all in India, what mileage did my motorcycle give me?
The train arrived in the midst of our banter as two or three strangers looked my bike over. I was resting against the bonnet of a truck as the cargo train passed the railway barricading ever so slowly. In a minute, I saddled up and got ready for my last little haul into Chitttaurgarh. A full thirteen kilometers of searching, stopping and asking for directions finally brought me to the unassuming gate of the RTDC Panna hotel here. This RTDC hotel looked as barren as the city. It was a Sunday and so all the shops were closed too. A vibe similar to Barmer prevailed over the entire city.
I got myself in to the hotel and settled in. 300 kilometers of highway riding hadn’t exhausted me enough I thought and decided that I might as well take an afternoon round around the city. I was only going to be here three nights so I felt the need to make the most of it. The hotel manager too, had started identifying with my adventurous streak. In his typical small town way, he told me that he was impressed. All over again I was humbled by this strangers’ praise. I realized how many people actually wanted to go out and do something like this but thanks to the rut of life, they didn’t.
Chittaurgarh town.
My afternoon ride took me through random empty streets of Chittaur. I didn’t really see much. The heat was so oppressive that soon I decided that I’d rather take a nap, recharge myself and then hit the streets with the right verve. I over slept.
The next morning started early, with me heading out early enough to check out the Chittaurgarh Fort. Really the only true reason for me to visit this town. The Chittaurgarh Fort is not only a historical madhouse of information for seekers but also has a lot more to its credit. In terms of sheer size, it is probably the largest single fortified structure in India. As you close in, crossing the river Berach, the scale of this extraordinary building reveals itself. I stopped dead in my tracks, pulled out the camera and tried, in vain, to capture the fort’s length. This was the first time on this trip that I felt out of my depth, photographically. The size of the fort was just too big for my camera and skill. The time of day wasn’t helping either, there was a faint haze blocking the clear view of the fort. I had no choice but to move on into the fort and start exploring.
I rode on up into the fort walls and through the gates, something which I had now gotten used to. Each Rajasthani fort had it’s characteristic entrance gates. In Chittaur however, a paved road led through these gates into the fort premises, I rode my bike all the way into the center of the fort. This fort is at an elevation of about 500 feet from sea level and one can feel the temperature change slightly. At first, I couldn’t figure out what I was to do next. Yes I wanted to see the sights here but I didn’t know where they were. I took a full round of the fort on my motorcycle after which I found a ticket counter which had a map of the fort on it. That’s when I got my bearing. Honestly, I was still overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the structure.
Ridin’ through.
I spoke to the people at the ticket counter for a while. Looking at their expressions I could instantly make out their assumptions about the kind of tourist I was. Three people were really interested in telling me about where the most interesting bits of the fort are and so I listened to them.
The Chittaurgarh Fort:
Apart from its size, this fort has an abundance of stories within its mammoth walls. The fort is believed to be named after the Mauryan ruler Chitrangada Mori. For 800 years, Chittaur was the capital of Mewar and all through that period and beyond, the Rajput warriors of Chittaur painted an unsettling and moving picture. Death before defeat was their resolve. More than a few times this fort has seen defeat in its history. Yet, the lore of the men, women and children who hailed from this land never once fails to inspire awe.
As I spent time in the fort, three stories came up in front of me again and again. The tales of Mirabai, Queen Padmini and Panna Dhai. These were stories which, in a short while, made me realise the importance of Chittaur in Rajasthan’s history.
Mirabai:
Mirabai’s time at Chittaur was as the wife of Rana Kumbha. She was a devout follower of Lord Krishna and considered herself to be the wife of Krishna, hence she wasn’t too happy with her marriage. After Rana Kumbha’s death, she completely gave into her devotion to Krishna. She is believed to have spent her last years as a pilgrim at Dwarka but none really know where she disappeared.
The Mirabai temple:
This is a beautiful temple dedicated to the saint-poet. Standing close to the Kirti Stambh, it is one of the most beautiful temples in Chittaur. In the early morning light, the intricate architecture gleams with unparalleled brilliance. Inside the temple, a representation of Meera, praying to her Lord Krishna, has been established.
The Kirti Stambh:
The Mira Temple and Kirti Stambh, in the morning (left) and just before sunset (right).
The Kirti Stambh is a 12th century monument, built by a Jain merchant. It stands close to the Mira Temple and is a beautiful piece of architecture, just like the Mira Temple itself. Both these monuments stand together in perfect accompaniment.
Jauhar:
The Rajput men chose to charge out of the walls of this fort into the enemy. Fighting to the last breath, preferring to die fighting than to accept defeat and live a life after surrender. This deeply ingrained Rajput trait leads on to another sorrowfully amazing tale of the women and children of Chittaur. Jauhar.
An ancient Indian practice of divine self immolation, performed by women and children of a particular Rajput clan, in the face of defeat of the defending army. It is often a common assumption that the act of Jauhar involved only the women and children of the kingdom but the truth is that Jauhar involved the Rajput warriors of the army as well. When it was eminent that defeat was inevitable, the women inside the fort performed Jauhar, after which the men charged out into the enemy committing Saka. Preferring to die fighting over enduring defeat.
Dusk over the fort.
At Chittaur, Jauhar was performed a total of three times over it’s history. First by Rani Padmini and then the second by Rani Karnavati and finally the third when Chittaurgarh Fort was besieged by Emperor Akbar.
Rani Padmini and the Padmini Palace:
Queen Padmini was considered the epitome of beauty in her time. Wife of the then commander of the Chittaurgarh Fort, Rana Rawal Ratan Singh, the stories of her beauty had transcended kingdoms. It was inevitable that the lure of her beauty caught the Mughal ruler Allauddin Khilji’s attention. Driven by his lust, he marched towards Chittaur to secure her as his queen.
Here is where an interesting tale begins, Khilji saw the brilliantly guarded Chittaurgarh fort and decided that he would try and acquire Rani Padmini without conflict. Khilji’s army was deterrent enough. He sent a message to the Rana that he considered Padmini his sister and wanted to see her. Looking at the Mughal army, the unsuspecting Rana Rawal Ratan Singh gave in to Khilji’s demand of getting a look at his wife, Queen Padmini. In those times, this was a rather shameful occurrence and hence Khilji was only allowed to see the queen in a mirror. Smitten by her beauty, he decided that he would not leave Chittaur without her as his queen.
Later, when the Rana went upto the outer limits of the fort to see off Khilji, he was arrested by Khilji’s soldiers and held in captivity. Queen Padmini soon got the message that she was now required to leave with Allauddin Khilji as his wife and that her husband was under captivity.
Enraged, she decided she would have none of it. In a brilliant countermeasure to Khilji’s deceit, Rani Padmini and the Rana’s men came up with an ingenious plan. In over a hundred palanquins, hid Rajput warriors, masquerading as the queen’s maids. They made their way to the Mughal army camp and attacked the camp, freed Rana Rawal Ratan Singh and brought him back to the security of the Chittaurgarh fort.
In the ensuing aftermath, Allauddin Khilji’s army laid siege to the fort but could not beat the fort’s defenses. Khilji kept up his unrelenting battle with the Rajput army until the fort’s supplies perished and there was no chance of a victory for the Rajputs of Chittaur. At this juncture, it was decided that the Rajput warriors would commit Saka, they would charge into the enemy and fight until death. Hearing this Queen Padmini and the Rajput women decided to commit Jauhar.
After the battle was over, all that Khilji’s lust driven army found upon entering the Chittaurgarh fort were burnt and charred remains of the women and children of Chittaur.
The Palace:
The Padmini Palace is a white building which still stands today. There are gardens to welcome you as one approaches the main complex. The room with the mirrors, where Allauddin Khilji saw queen Padmini, is open to the public and one can even see those very mirrors, they still hang from the ceiling today.
Panna Dhai:
By far one of the most poignant stories from the land of Chittaur. Panna Dhai’s tale of sacrifice still manages to bring a tear to the eyes of many a mother today.
A 16th century Rajput woman, Panna was the nursemaid to Udai Singh (later, the founder of Udaipur, son of Sangram Singh). The word ‘Dhai’ in her name stands for wet nurse, she had been given charge of Udai Singh from his early childhood.
Chittaur. A historical panorama.
The story begins when Banbir, an exiled cousin of Udai Singh was appointed as regent of the kingdom keeping in light the arrest of Vikramaditya II. Banbir, who considered himself to be the rightful heir to the throne knew the time was right to act. He assassinated Vikramaditya II and was on his way to assassinate the already asleep 14 year old Udai Singh (the Maharana-elect), whose existence was the only barrier between Banbir and the throne of Mewar.
A servant hurriedly informed Panna of Banbir’s doings, Panna understood what Banbir was planning and told the servant to smuggle Udai Singh, the Maharana-elect, out of the Chittaurgarh fort. She instructed the servant to wait for her at a rendezvous point near the river. As the young Udai Singh was taken away from the fort, Panna placed her own son in Udai Singh’s bed and covered him. In time Banbir burst into the room and inquired about Udai Singh, she pointed at the bed where her son lay asleep, only to watch her own son being killed at the hands of Banbir.
Panna left the fort after her son’s hurried cremation and retook charge of Udai Singh from the servant, out by the river. Here began an epic trek for the duo who were only given proper refuge at the fort of Kumbhalgarh. Years later, Maharana Udai Singh went back to Chittaurgarh and assumed the throne.
A heroic feat of sacrifice and loyalty to the throne was showcased by Panna. But for her, the city of Udaipur (later founded by Maharana Udai Singh) would never have existed.
The Vijay Stambh or the Tower of Victory:
This unique structure stands in the midst of some temples at the top of the fort. Built to celebrate victory over the ruler Mahmud Khilji by Rana kumbha, it is intriguing to say the least. The carvings on the inside and out are so very intricate that one can spend minutes just staring at a single part of this nine story tower.
For a fee of INR 5, one is allowed to venture inside the tower. Fair warning, this venture is not suited for people who suffer from claustrophobia. There is no room for two way pedestrian traffic inside. At some points the climb is pretty precarious, especially for me as I was carrying my hefty camera bag on my back. Getting shots was tough and so my trusty ultra wide angle lens came to the fore. Inside the tower, it is dark, dingy and well, stinky. There is constant movement of people and hence the 157 step climb from bottom to top is not all that easy. At the top though a big and windy room awaits you, I can’t say the view is panoramic because it’s blocked by the carvings on the windows but I’d still say it was worth it.
View from the top.
After my descent, I spent the entire evening in the Vijay Stambh complex. The complex is also home to a few other Jain temples apart from the Stambh itself. The complex is also home to the Gaumukh (Hindi for: cow’s mouth) reservoir, this water body is fed by a natural spring, which flows through a carved cow’s mouth in the rocks, hence the name. During the various sieges the Chittaurgarh Fort endured, this water body was the primary source of fresh water for the population.
The GauMukh reservoir and the Vijay Stambh complex.
This complex is also home to numerous Langoor monkeys. If you’re ever bored, just sit down and observe these ultra happy and inquisitive creatures jump around. Keep a close watch on your belongings though!
Sundown with the Langoor monkeys.
Also, this is a brilliant place to watch the sun go down, especially after a hard day’s tourism.
Day two:
My second day in Chittaurgarh was reserved for riding about inside the fort in the day and the sound and light show in the evening. Early morning went by as I sipped my tea and felt the fresh morning air of this town. Two nights that I had spent here hadn’t revealed much about the town itself.
To me, it felt like all the sacrifice and bloodshed over those olden ages still had some sort of bearing on this place. Chittaurgarh, seemed to me like a stoic town, not reacting to my arrival in any noticeable way. I was here, studying the history as deeply as I could but there was no telling if I was actually learning anything about the place in reality.
This was also a time when I became increasingly introspective. At this point, I had spent more than three weeks on the road. A lot had had happened in my head, with it going through these myriad experiences, thumping across this sandy state. There was no homesickness, there was no longing to get back home. Even though my bike wasn’t in all that great a nick, I felt like I could survive like this for as long as I wanted. I had completely become used to being alone. Meeting and interacting only with strangers.
The making of a true traveller.
It is at times like these that I realize I’m on the right path. I know I’m made for the road, a traveller through and through. Also, someone who would be incomplete without his camera and motorcycle. So many realizations, so little time.
The mango tree above me moved with the breeze, letting a ray of early sunshine dart into my half open eyes. As if to shake me out of my trance of thoughts, the sun’s rays did well to wake me up. This was my second and last day in Chittaurgarh, most had to be made of it. So I geared up and made my way towards the fort. I entered using the same winding road which passes through the gates and reached the top quick.
A view of the city from the fort’s walls.
I still hadn’t been able to properly capture the entire length of the fort from afar. Slowly I was giving up on the idea altogether. For some reason I felt I wouldn’t be able to do justice to the real majesty of this monument. I carried on, the 13 square kilometers that the Chittaurgarh Fort is spread out over, offer a lot of space for someone who just wants to experience peace. Birds will chirp, the sun will rise, the temperature will go up and the occasional cow will moo, that’s about it. There is also an abundance of greenery up here and all over the fort, a nice contrast to the image of Rajasthan I should say.
Oh, it’s green.
The people of Chittaurgarh too had been nice to me. I was welcomed well by my RTDC caretakers and even in the town while asking directions and sipping on roadside chai, people had been polite. It had become a characteristic of the people of Rajasthan, there had not been one incident as yet on this entire trip where I’d felt I was being taken for a ride, so to speak. The cities and roads of Rajasthan had become my home and I was happy.
Chai on a Chittaur street.
Even on this day as I rode my motorcycle nonchalantly around the fort premises, I felt like I was a part of this place. An unnoticeable speck in the span of the history of this fort. Still, this place grounded me like no other I’ve ever been to. I could relate to the tales of valour, heroism and sacrifice here. The vast plains that stretched out behind the fort looked to me like chalk slates, where each ruler came and wrote his own piece over the previous one’s.
Chalk slate of Chittaur.
It was strangely beautiful, the way even the air here felt like it had a touch of the past.
Coming back to being the tourist, I had bought my ticket for the sound and light show this evening. I already knew most of what there is to know about Chittaurgarh but I felt the sound and light compilation would be a good opportunity to learn more as well as a relaxing way to spend my last evening.
Here, at Chittaurgarh, the sound and light show is managed and run by RTDC itself. Don’t be surprised if you find the goings on a little laid back. They will wait till there are at least 25 people in the stands to start the show. I find this small town bending of the rules pretty amusing, really.
Light, sound and action!
The hour long show was just perfect. All the history I had learnt about Chittaur in the past two days got woven into a fine thread. The timelines became clearer in my head. And once again, the heroism of this quaint land touched me. It’s strange that sometimes I feel I should have been born in those years to experience the history first hand. Who knows, maybe I was. I’d miss my motorcycle though!
By far the most compelling part of my time in Chittaur was when I asked the sound and light show operator a simple question. My question to him was ‘You watch this show everyday of your life, do you still like it?’ A Rajput himself, he came back with a simple reply. He said ‘Sir, I’m a Rajput. Each day while I watch this show from behind, a tear escapes my eyes and my chest fills with pride. Every time, everyday.’
And you know what, I felt what he said to me word for word. Somehow I could relate to him.
The show got over and soon the same would happen to my time in Chittaurgarh. I promised myself I would come back. For now though, Udaipur was my next port of call. A very short 115 kilometer ride was ahead of me.
Early next morning, as usual, I geared up and said my goodbyes to the RTDC friends I had made here and left. These short two days had been good. The true embrace of Rajasthan had started to take hold over me. After spending more than three weeks on the road in this state, I had found my comfort zone. I was excited thinking about what Udaipur held in store for me.
The motorcycle was straining to go beyond 100 km/h on the 100 kilometer long National Highway 76 to Udaipur but I was determined to push her. I kept the throttle jammed open all through, stopping only twice, once for a quick breakfast and the second to take a leak on the side of the road like a traditional Indian traveller. The bike was hanging in there, for the first time since Jodhpur, I felt she could pull through for the remainder of the trip. I was still keeping my fingers crossed though. I had started respecting my motorcycle’s resolve too, she deserved it.
Gaining on Udaipur!
This short 3 hour ride was filled mostly with me thinking about what Udaipur was going to be like. Udaipur is known for its luxury and well, I had been saving up all along. I couldn’t wait to get there!
For more pictures from Chittaur, Click here.
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In this article:
Number of nights: Chittaurgarh – 3.
Distance travelled: Jaipur – Chittaurgarh = 320 kms.
Motorcycle condition: Misfires, slight over heating, engine noise (crank issues). She’s got guts carrying on like this! Salute!
Next destination: Udaipur, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
Marwar – Central Rajasthan.
Part 3 of Rooh – E – Rajasthan.
To read part 2 – Click here.
To read part 1 – Click here.
Jodhpur.
Coherent chaos.
I turned off National Highway 114 and entered Jodhpur at what felt like the peak hour of traffic here. It was now noon. My dash from Jaisalmer had turned into an easy riding session most of the way. Jodhpur looked like a greeting card of commotion which was unfolding just as the bike and I rolled in. I learnt early that in this town, dust had the right of way and so did the oddly shaped black and yellow rickshaws. In a way this was a rude reminder of my dispatch from the calm caress of Jaisalmer. I caught myself thinking “I got a bad feelin’ ’bout this” (the way Will Smith would say it). The mid day heat was harsh, coupled with the dwindling dare of my motorcycle’s smooth run, I was crossing my fingers about Jodhpur.
Reaching Jodhpur.
I had to shake off all apprehensions as I rode towards my new RTDC (Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation) home. The wheels of the bike crawled through the traffic as I finally broke free onto one of Jodhpur’s broad roads which led to the High court. Just as the city breeze started playing with the beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I reached my hotel for this city. RTDC’s Hotel Ghoomar was now my home for the next few days.
This RTDC Hotel was brilliantly located, right in the middle of Jodhpur. The receptionist, a Mister Kishore Kumar, had one heck of a sense of humor. I was welcomed with an open heart I have to say. Mr Kumar had quite an interest in photography too and that’s where we hit it off. After settling myself, Kishore ji and I spent quite a while discussing where in Jodhpur may one find good photo opportunities. The hotel itself, was decent enough. Thankfully, the RTDC has quite a few tariff categories, suited to almost any pocket.
Hotel Ghoomar and the rickshaws of Jodhpur.
Jodhpur was to be a long stopover, I knew people here. One of my Army friend’s family was stationed here. An uncle of mine was also in Jodhpur. Plus, most important, the Marauder was to get its all-important servicing done. She had come a long way since we first left on that chilled early morning from Pune. Dinner was to be had with uncle and the evening was spent looking at pictures I had clicked on my journey so far. This of course, was my first whiff of home food after Barmer. For some strange reason though, I felt, Jodhpur had an unsettling vibe to it. Unlike Barmer, Jaisalmer and even Mount Abu with their oozing positivity, Jodhpur was more a place where life as we know existed. It was a normal city, in a desperate rush to get ahead of its own self, trying to conquer time.
The bustle of the city woke me up the next morning. I sat in bed sipping on tea, looking at the curtain on the window play games with the sun’s light. Unlike other mornings, today there was no riding or photography to be done. The day would be dedicated to spending quality time with my motorcycle. This was a rest day. First, I made numerous phone calls trying to scout for an authorised mechanic here and found one. Then came the task of actually reaching the workshop in this new city. Now this is the part I love, deliberately getting lost in a city I know nothing about. Lanes, by lanes, small roads and big roads. Stopping every kilometer to ask people directions for the place I want to go to and then from being hopelessly lost to reaching my destination. This was my way of breaking the ice with Jodhpur. The hungry me stopped at one of the sweet shops and hogged on some local samosa/kachauri variants. In Jodhpur, it’s easier to find a ‘halwai’ or sweetmaker than trying to find a restaurant to eat food.
Breaking the ice.
Ismail bhai, an authorised Royal Enfield mechanic on Chowpasni road, gave my motorcycle a once over. According to him nothing was wrong with the engine but I knew better. There was a piston slap which was more than audible. Having said that, I didn’t want him poking his spanner in places he didn’t seem to know much about. So the bike just got some routine maintenance done. The breaks got cleaned and adjusted, the air filter was cleaned and the chain was oiled and adjusted. At such garages, which are dedicated to the Enfield, more often than not, one finds other motorcycle owners with a passion for the ride. Conversations with other bullet owners here were about our bikes and where I was coming from and where I was planning to go. Suggestions, route directions and warnings were all part of our banter. When I told people about what I was doing, most people would respond with a puzzled gaze. The ‘What is this guy up to?’ kind of a look. I find that amusing and it always brings a smile to my face.
To know that some people out there actually think something like this can’t even be done and for me to be doing it, that’s a gift I cherish dearly.
About three hours later, I scouted for a place to have lunch. Strangely, the crowded streets around Chowpasni road weren’t home to any interesting eat outs, apart from your odd ‘halwaai’ of course. So I went back to my hotel and had a very simple Dal and Chawal.
The afternoons in Jodhpur are hot, even in November. The tourist inside me was aching to go out and check out the sights but I wanted to take it slow. When on such trips, it is often easy for someone to try and get ahead of one’s self in the excitement. Which in turn leaves you tired and unmotivated when it matters the most, a bit like a marathon. You have to pace yourself all the time. Self motivation is key to surviving the length of such a trip. More than half the trip stood in front of my motorcycle and me, I kept telling myself to persevere.
Tea time again, sitting in the garden, I looked up at the sky. A strange haze of cloudy fume had cast itself over the evening, like a message written in cloud, telling me to stay in and not tire myself out. It was time for a reality check. I was worried about my motorcycle, as she hadn’t got the service I felt she needed. She talks to me, this motorcycle. Each other is all we have on such endeavours. I would spend at least ten minutes every day making sure everything was in order with her. I like to believe that she understands me. Because boy, when she talks, I have to listen. Just by the beat of the engine I understand what her mood is like. How the engine sounds tells me whether or not she is feeling up to it. At this point, I knew she was not in great nick. Right from Barmer, there was a faint change in the way the engine sounded. The metallic clang had increased ever so slightly as we covered more distances over the desert state. I did not know if she could stand by me throughout the trip.
Haze over Jodhpur.
All that thought didn’t mean a change in plan was in order, no.
Day three in Jodhpur and it was time to see what this city had in store for its tourist. The Mehrangarh Fort was one of the most imposing forts I had seen till date. It is difficult to spot from within the city as the buildings crowd the view but once you are on the hill road heading to the fort, the view is awe inducing. It almost catches you off guard, the Mehrangarh is that huge.
The Mehrangarh Fort, overlooking the city.
Thanks to my uncle, the fort authorities had been informed about my arrival. The moment I reached the entrance I was ushered through the crowd and given a complimentary pass to the interiors of this mega matrix of pathways, history and well, blatant robbery of a tourist’s time. Not for a moment will I say that the fort does not match up to what it promises. No, the place is brilliant and the history is more than intriguing but it is the way such places are managed and run in India these days. It felt like a dirty quest for money was the driving force behind allowing the common man access inside these walls. There was even a Rupee 20 charge to use the elevator. The security personnel at this fort, behaved as if they were doing a favour to the guest/tourist who dared to venture inside after paying for her/his ticket.
The tourist.
A strange rule prevented me from putting up a tripod anywhere inside the fort’s premises. This anti-tripod rule will chase you through many monuments in India. When questioned, the authorities told me that it is to prevent professional photography and videography but then again, you can tot a camera or a handy-cam all you want. They say one needs special permission to be able to put up a tripod and shoot, also, money needs to be paid to the fort management if you wish to shoot with a tripod. Wow! What a lovely explanation for such a nonsensical rule. Apart from the outright fleecing going on these days at such so called tourism savvy monuments, these regulations are made by people who have no real idea of the on ground situation or even knowledge of photography. Most professionals can shoot as well or better without a tripod or ‘stand’ as these people call it.
View from the courtyard.
This fort was mighty beautiful, from inside and out. As one reaches the main courtyard, one can see the blue city stretching out in front of the fort. When touring the insides, I noticed that sunlight had a special relationship with this monument’s architecture. At almost every arched entrance that you walk through, fresh rays of sunlight will rain down on you. Some of the Darbans or doormen may even pose for your camera if you ask them.
Romancing the Sun.
Inside, the brilliance in gold work will leave one gasping as you come to terms with the sheer scale of art and craft which is a part of every single royal expanse here. From regular rooms to August darbars, inside the palaces, stories keep one engaged all through. More than just a visual delight, the Mehrangarh with its history and tourism centric ethos gives the thinking traveller a run for his or her money. Quite literally.
August expanses.
Another interest inducing sight are the cannons which are kept on top of the broad fort walls. The importance of which is undermined by the tourist himself as you will see people climbing on top of the cannons or sitting on them.
A Mehrangarh cannon.
The most intriguing story here goes back to the time the construction of the Mehrangarh fort began. The hill on which it was built was known as the hill of birds. A hermit known as the lord of the birds used to stay on this hill and when he was forced to move because of the construction of the fort, he cursed the kingdom. His curse prevented the kingdom from ever having adequate water. To this day they say that the areas in and around Jodhpur suffer from drought once every four to five years. The stories also say that Jodha the ruler tried to appease the hermits’ curse by burying a man alive in the foundations of the fort. (The man) Rajiya’s family was looked after by the kingdom of Rathores.
Built on the hill of birds.
I must also mention that most of the fort is actually cordoned off for general public, entry is prohibited. Why? I have no idea. So much contrast between the past and the present allied to the less than ordinary experience of the fort interiors had left a sad impression of this place on my mind. Even though I was given free entry and treated with residual decency, what was actually happening here was for everyone to see. Money rules the roost here, take my word for it. After eating a kathi roll at the Mehrangarh café (the fort run restaurant) and paying 170 INR for it, I left.
Kathi roll and the Cafe’ Mehran.
Next on my monuments list was the Jaswant Thada. A building situated very close to the Mehrangarh fort and one of much aesthetic and historical importance. A mausoleum, the Jaswant Thada is a beautiful sight. The word mausoleum usually brings up visions of negativity and of life ending circumstances but this building induced quite the opposite sensation. Take off your shoes and walk on the grass here. Clutch the fence and look at the city of Jodhpur stretching out in front of your eyes right up till the horizon. Turn around to see the pale marble monument standing in the middle of the gardens with a spirit as crisp as the kings of yore.
The Jaswant Thada.
If that’s not enough, lend your ears to Bansiram. An old fellow of tradition. Let him welcome you with his voice, singing to you what he likes and what your ears would like to hear. Mark my words, this man has a voice which can challenge even the most honed vocals. Sitting in the courtyard of the mausoleum, Bansiram makes a living off of tips and adulation from passing tourists.
Bansiraam.
The Jaswant Thada was built by a certain Sardar Singh in the memory of Raja Jaswant Singh the second. One climbs the only flight of stairs and the aura of the building takes hold. The marble used to build this monument exudes a warm caress as the sun’s light falls on it. Those contortions which formed in my brain after the visit to the fort had now been levelled by the peace here at the Jaswant Thada.
Peace at the Jaswant Thada.
One last time, I skimmed the surface of the greens with my palm and moved on to the next palace of call.
Umaid Bhavan Palace. It is the residence of the royal family of Jodhpur and also a hotel managed by the Taj Hotels group. If you’re staying at the palace hotel, well, congratulations. If not, then you may not like this place very much. More than a sight to see, this place or palace is a cordoned off monument for the public. From 9am to 5pm every day, regulars can enter through one of the side entrances and walk to the museum. On your walk, you will get a side view of the palace.
The palace side view.
The museum showcases the history of the palace and its various owners. Photographs of the kings and princes in their prime are put up on all the walls. Plus, you can see all what you can’t see. What I mean is, you can see pictures and sketches of the layout of the palace, places where a tourist can’t go. Sad.
The museum.
They have some lovely old world cars on display though. Which, let’s be honest, adds little to the experience of Rajasthan.
What the peaceful mausoleum had given, the palace took away. I was not liking Jodhpur, really. Day one to day three, not one moment here had inspired me. Not one instant had passed where I said to myself ‘this is it’. It was almost evening as I came out of the palace premises and started heading back to the area where my hotel was, uninterested in everything. I was trying to think of a way to turn the situation around. I wanted to try and put a finger on the pulse of Jodhpur, for what it really is. Instead of turning towards the hotel, I was taken to the clock tower or ghanta ghar. At this time, early in the evening, the place was choc a block with people, auto rickshaws and vehicles. It was the older part of Jodhpur.
Ghanta Ghar (Clock tower)
I walked around a bit and ventured into narrow lanes behind the main market. I saw what I call the band district. Shop after shop of local brass bands that play at not so big fat Indian weddings and during baraats lined one side of the lane. The other side was a brick wall punctuated with the bands’ colourful carriages. This was a little refreshing. Honest.
Colourful carriages.
From here, I went back out into the city and gave the Mandore Gardens a span of my attention. These gardens are home to beautiful old temples which stand amidst filthy and unclean environs. The stench here is close to chronic. These gardens lie in neglect, sure, but the ancient temples overpower that repulsive feeling one gets in the gut at such a place. It’s almost as if the charm of the architecture and the history is more influential here than at the Mehrangarh fort. I spent quite a while taking pictures here. I didn’t know much about the temples or even the importance of Mandore as a place but as I now read up, it is obvious that Mandore is as important as Jodhpur itself. The ancient city of Mandore has been the capital of many kingdoms in its hay day. The stories here rekindle intrigue.
Gardens in neglect, Mandore.
For me though, it was time to call it a day or so I thought. On the way back, this time my driver and I spotted a jeep full of goats being taken somewhere. We decided to follow them, just out of curiosity. Guess where we landed up? To an auction of goats! As this was the eve of Bakr id, there was a goat auction being conducted somewhere deep inside the maze of old city lanes. There were 100s of goats being put up for auction. The trading of livestock was part of an ongoing tradition here. As I inquired, the most expensive goat had sold for a hundred and fifty thousand rupees (Whoa!).
An auction with a difference!
However tumultuous, this rather interesting day had finally come to an end.
I was to spend the next day socializing and preparing for the upcoming ride to Ajmer and Pushkar. But before I started packing there was a photograph to be taken. Starting with tea at 5am in the morning, I shot out of my room a little before 6 to try and shoot the sun rising over the Palace. I had a particular shot in my head and I wanted to get it as today was my last day in Jodhpur. I rode swiftly through the cold morning wind towards the fort; this route was now imprinted in my head. I reached the fort with dawn cracking over the blue mosaic of Jodhpur. I was in the Mehrangarh fort parking lot, since this point had a magnificent view of the city. I was hoping against hope to find the sun rising just behind the Umaid Bhavan Palace in the distance. I got ready with my gear with the sun still a while away from rising over the horizon.
Perched up top above this puzzling city I looked at how each morning in Jodhpur must be. The sounds of the morning were the same as anywhere else. Squeaking doors, occasional grunts of a diesel engine in the distance, a train blowing its trumpet as it left the railway station and of course the tens of birds which call the fort walls their home. This seemed like the peaceful side of the Jodhpur coin. Well, relatively.
Good morning Jodhpur!
The build up to the sunrise was happening. There were more people out on the streets in their walking shoes now, the sky had turned an orange-ish yellow shade and the horizon was lit up for the suns arrival. The sun came and rose like it does every day but sadly not from behind the palace, an arm’s length to the left of the palace actually. I was disappointed but also amused at myself. It was naive of me to think that the sun will rise from wherever I want it to rise. I should have put more thought into this photograph, oh well.
Sunrise over Jodhpur.
After shooting the morning colours for a short while, I went back to my hotel stopping briefly to have a cup of chai on a roadside cart. My final day in Jodhpur was upon me. Can’t say I was sad about it but there was one more thing left to do. Or should I say pilgrimage. You ask any passionate Enfield rider in India about a certain ‘Bullet Baba’ and I bet you a tenner he or she will narrate a short story about a not-so-ordinary temple close to Jodhpur. The Shrine of the ‘Bullet Baba’.
The Bullet Baba Temple.
Google it and you will find many a story about this particular temple of an Enfield a few kilometers before Pali on your way from Jodhpur. The temple is based on legend. Folklore in India is something that people swear by and if you’re ever here you will understand what I mean. It is said that in the summer of 1991 Mr Om, known locally as Om Banna (son of the local Thakur) was riding his 350cc Enfield bullet to Jodhpur. He was high on alcohol and hence lost control of his motorcycle, he ended up hitting a tree and breathed his last on the spot. Subsequently, his body was cremated and his motorcycle was taken to the local police station. The next day however, the motorcycle was seen at the accident spot.
The motorcycle and the fateful tree.
The police thought it was a prank of some sort and once again took the motorcycle back to the police station but sure enough the next day, it was back at the accident spot. As the local villagers got to know about these mysterious incidents, the legend of the ‘Bullet Baba’ was born. The locals enshrined the motorcycle on a plinth near the accident spot and now it is run as a full fledged temple of sorts. This motorcycle temple even has a priest who presides over the ceremonies. Drivers and villagers alike offer prayers and also hooch at this temple every single day.
Warnings ignored.
It is also said that when any motorist has a breakdown on this stretch of the highway, Mr Om Banna comes to their rescue. Further they say, during the holy week of Navratri before the Hindu festival of Diwali, the motorcycle starts up on its own. Well, as they say, truth is definitely stranger than fiction. I don’t really believe in such stories if I’m honest but the sheer popularity of the Bullet Baba temple got to me. India and its stories are really amusing sometimes. With that I rode back to Jodhpur on my own 500 cc Bullet.
I spent the rest of the day tying loose ends, packing and just preparing. At the back of my mind though, I was concerned about the ill health of the motorcycle. Ajmer wasn’t all that close, it was 200 kilometers away. In the evening, I went to meet my Army friends. A refreshing evening it was with us all reminiscing about old times and talking about how far life has come. Good times.
Ajmer was the next biker destination! It was a city I knew little about. There was a little confusion in my mind because the Pushkar Fair was on and Pushkar was just 12 kilometers away from Ajmer. I wanted to see the Pushkar fair, yet I knew that I would have to choose between Ajmer and Pushkar. Deciding that I would leave the decision making for later, early next morning, I saddled up and left Jodhpur. Leaving Jodhpur was easy for me. The City had given me a cold shoulder, essentially. As I rode out, I wondered if I would ever come back.
Off to Ajmer!
Two hundred kilometers from Jodhpur lies Ajmer. I rode on the National Highway 112. I was now riding east, towards eastern Rajasthan. The sand was still present but the landscape had given way to proper shrubbery. I felt sad leaving the real desert behind. Now, the Marauder and I were heading towards the cities of Rajasthan. As I reached Ajmer, I had now completed the crossover from western Rajasthan to the eastern part. The afternoon heat was positively oppressive in Ajmer. The motorcycle was in a bad way, I could hear the piston slap loud and clear. I was worried that she would have to be transported back to Pune while I was in the middle of the trip. Having said that, I had made up my mind about one thing, I will not give up until she gives up on me.
If it so happened that I was riding from one place to another and she broke down, so be it. I would figure out a way to get us both to the nearest town and then put her on a truck. There was no way I would let my fear of a breakdown get in the way of our trip.
For more pictures from Jodhpur, Click here.
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In this article:
Number of nights: Jodhpur – 5
Distance travelled: Jaisalmer – Jodhpur = 250 kms, Jodhpur – Bullet Baba Temple – Jodhpur = 130 kms. Total = 380 kms.
Motorcycle condition: Piston slap growing louder, engine showing signs of breaking down, occasional misfires.
Next destination: Ajmer and Pushkar, Rajasthan. (Click here to read)
T – minus two and counting? Destination Aurangabad!
So you’ve got to get to work on Monday and you think you can’t travel? Think again! It can’t always be about exotic locales and beautiful beaches now can it? Here is what you could do if you’ve got just two days and two wheels.
225 kilometres from Pune and about 425 from Mumbai along State Highway 60 lies Aurangabad. It is a city which is fast transforming into a metro but still manages to cling on to some of its true old world charm. It serves as a base for tourists travelling to see the Ajanta and Ellora caves which are a major ‘to do’ on everybody’s travel lists and are close to the city.
This article however, is not about the clichéd caves. Yes Ajanta is beautiful and Ellora is nice too but frankly, you need a lot of time on your hands if you want to cover just the two cave clusters. If you do have time on your side, make sure you cover them as well.
Apart from the famous caves, Aurangabad is host to a few other interesting avenues for travellers as well. To start with the ‘Bibi Ka Maqbara’ is a Mughal example of a son’s love for his mother and is often referred to as the ‘Taj of Deccan’ as it strongly resembles the Taj Mahal at Agra. Yet, there is much that sets it apart.
The Bibi Ka Maqbara.
The good part is that entry is open to the monument all day, from sunrise till 10 pm. No food or eats are allowed into the premises but there are ample options for street grub right outside the entrance, as with most tourist attractions. May I suggest some Nimbu Pani (Lime water) and soda before you start the tour.
It is smaller in size compared to the real Taj. Plus, it’s not just marble that has gone into building the Maqbara. Unlike the Taj Mahal, Plaster of Paris (PoP) is a major building material used in the construction of the Maqbara apart from marble.
As one walks onto the stone tiles which make up the pathways just while entering the front arch of the entrance gate, a sense of déjà vu takes over for a split second. For those who have seen the Taj Mahal that is. If you have a camera in your hand, you will probably end up being a part of the crowd trying to capture the classic middle of the arch shot.
Cliche’ or not, click it!
Stepping into the cool shade of the arch, one gets a full view of the Maqbara standing tall with all its opulence. One hundred rupees is what it will cost for a 7 minute snippet about the Bibi Ka Maqbara from a registered guide. The narration will tell you all that a tourist needs to know about the Maqbara and the stories behind it. You are also welcome to ask your guide all the questions you want to.
For those who have 5 minutes, watch this video:
Walking around in the lawns at the Bibi Ka Maqbara, one feels peace. The quiet is broken only by the distant chatter of tourists flocking to check out the Dargaah and intermittent whistles by the security guards. Not to forget the chirping birds.
Apart from ogling at the imposing white Maqbara standing bang in the middle of the premises, there is not much to do here. Sitting in the shade or watching the sunset while the time flies is something a lot of people come here to do. During the sunset, the game of lights played out on the white marble dome and minarets is worth watching. As the sun makes a dash for the horizon, colours of the sky have a magical effect on the white monument. It has to be seen to be believed. Much like the Real Taj.
Lights play!
After the Bibi Ka Maqbara and its lightness, spend the second day doing some hard core cardio. Climb the Daulatabad Fort, right to the top. Although it is a relatively small fort according to some, it has a very colourful lineage.
Originally known as Deogiri Fort, the famous Mughal ruler Mohammed-Bin-Tughlak renamed it Daulatabad when he shifted his capital from Delhi to Deogiri. Yes! There was a short period of time when Deogiri was the Capital of India. After which it became the capital of the Deccan region of India, thanks to Aurangzeb.
Also open from sunrise till evening, The Daulatabad Fort is one which is not overwhelming to the naked eye. One has to scratch the surface and blow away the dust to find some semblance of the history here. And only then, does the real beauty of this outpost in the hills get to you.
In over seven hundred year of existence, this fort has seen the rise and fall of over 8 kingdoms. I won’t spoil the entire mystery now, do some research for yourself!
More than seven hundred steps make up the mini trek up to the top of the Fort. Right from the start, as I entered the fort walls, what hit me was, the textures here. From the mammoth gate and its brass work to the wide flooring and numerous pillars at the Bharat Mata Mandir. My god was this place beautiful, that to under the mid-day sun.
Depth of field Nirvana! Daulatabad Fort.
The pillars at Bharat Mata Mandir. Daulatabad Fort.
This is a place where, as you go along reading about the various lines of defence and security measures in place, you find yourself marvelling at the meticulous planning and techniques adopted for building this fort. Even the hill on which the fort stands has been chiselled to make scaling the 200 meter height impossible.
An impressive cannon park greets you as you walk a little further in from the main entrance. Also, all over the fort are present many bastions, equipped with heavy cannons. The condition of the fort here is not very good but it’s not all that bad either. It was built to last. Many considered it to be invincible.
Great travellers like Ibn-e-batuta, Therenott and even Tavernier have graced this post.
An orange-ish tower is what will probably be the first to catch your attention as you approach the fort. Known as the Chand Minar, it is mighty tall and resembles the Qutab Minar at Delhi in many ways. Entry in to this monument is closed.
Chand Minar at Daulatabad Fort.
The cannons here are in splendid nick. (‘Tope‘ meaning cannon) The Mendha Tope and the Durga Tope are a sight to behold. Engravings on the Mendha Cannon christen it as the Qila-Shikan-Tope or the Fort Breaking Cannon.
The Fort breaking cannon.
As you puff your way upwards you will suddenly come across a dark dingy entrance. Known as the Andheri or the dark passage, its primary role as a line of defence was to baffle the incoming enemy and disorient him. As one ventures in, the smell of bat droppings is overwhelming. Make sure you carry a strong flash light. Zigzagging your way through you will come in to some light where one feels the dark walk is over but it is not. You enter the darkness a second time if you want to reach the top. You will have to brave bats at close range and don’t forget to cover your head!
Ready for the darkness!
Out and in light, moving further up, one comes across a few temples and meditating caves/shrines. These places have interesting stories behind them. We stopped and spoke to the only caretaker here. Listen to Rukmani bai tell you what she knows about the history of this fort.
Watch the video: (Duration: 10 Mins)
From the top, the view is panoramic, to say the least. Here, looking on, one can truly understand the placement of the cannon bastions and appreciate how effective they must have been in their day. This is not the biggest fort neither the most beautiful one but there is a lot more to a place than beauty and size. The Daulatabad fort has a soul to it. Look at it as a trek or a mere tourist destination, it is sure to involve you.
Panoramic Daulatabad.
Especially for photography, the Bibi ka Maqbara and the Daulatabad Fort offer the opportunity for a photographer to go out of her/his comfort zone and push the boundaries of basics.
Speaking of which I should mention that the Bibi Ka Maqbara is managed by the Maharashtra state tourism department here and they have a couple of really funny (bordering on stupid) regulations once you’re in here. For instance, you can walk through the metal detector and into the premises with your camera and tripod but you cannot use the tripod or ‘stand’ as they call it. Also, as I mentioned earlier, no eats are allowed on to the lawns but when there, it’s easy to notice empty packets and wrappers strewn around on the grass (purpose defeated).
How can I not tell you where in Aurangabad do you get the real grub? I don’t know how.
So here goes. The food scene in Aurangabad comes alive after dark. In the day it’s your usual didley piddley restos along the road and all that. But if you’re serious about your food, head to the Taj Residency here. Order the Tom Yum Soup and sit pretty, this soup tastes awesome if you’re the kind who likes his twang.
Come dusk and the shutters roll up all over Aurangabad but nowhere more than at Boti Lane (Pronounced Booty). It is Aurangabad’s very own khau galli. Vegetarians beware! ‘Boti’ is the Urdu word for a tender piece of meat and that is all what you will find here.
Booty (Boti) Lane. Aurangabad.
Take a stroll along this alley and all you see are bright lights hovering over big dishes of pre-cooked Chicken 65 pieces and long skewers of Tandoori Chicken legs. Not to overlook, the beef here is some of the best I have ever had the good fortune of tasting. There is something about street food which gets all of us salivating, don’t you think?
‘Haath gaadis’ or ‘Thelaas’ or push carts as they are called make up one side of the street. The aromas in a place such as this can make you want to breathe double time and I mean that in a good way. We picked ourselves a cart and asked for seekh kebabs to be brought to us.
Seekh stack.
Served with two stems of mint leaves and a couple of lemon quarters, set beside a mini bowl of mint and curd chutney, they looked divine under the darkness mixed milky light of the street. Melt in your mouth texture of the meat coupled with the slightly watery, silk like feel of the chutney tripled with the lime mixed raw onion makes for a great early evening snack. Round 2 please!
For bike rides, food is essential. Not in a survival kind of way but in the way that one loves it. Be it healthy/unhealthy, simple/complex – whatever it is that floats your boat. Eat!
Guess what?! It’s Sunday night! Time to ride home and greet the grind. Chop chop!
Want to see more from Aurangabad? Click here.
Murud Janjira – fortress on water
Ever thought of a place, not too far away from civilization but still a gateway to peace?
The Janjira Fort
I, for one, am always on the lookout for such places. Sometimes, between the rigorous audits and the worrisome tax calculations, it is all but natural to get that feeling – the feeling to get away from it all. Even if it’s just for that one night two night sojourn.
Murud is a small coastal village. The thing about Murud is that one doesn’t even realize how close it is from the highly commercialized and run down beach towns of Kashid, Alibaug and the likes. A meager 12 kilometers down the road from Kashid, lies Murud and the adjacent hilltop village of Janjira.
The main reason for travelers coming here is the day visit to the Janjira fort. Standing tall in the middle of the Arabian Sea, it is visible from the Janjira village (also from the road which leads to the village). The fort is a brilliant sight during the evenings of January and February as the sun sets just beside the exterior walls.
One can take a 20 minute sail-boat ride across the waters, which will reach you to the entrance of the Janjira fort, which is when one notices the innovative construction techniques used while building this medieval building.
On the way to the fort, in the boat (while you are hanging on for dear life), your boatmen will give you a very brief historical overview of Janjira fort. In the most flamboyant of ways, one of the boatmen will narrate to you the story behind the mammoth water locked structure. This narration is free of cost of-course but the boat ride will cost you 20 INR to go to the fort and come back. The monologue lasts around 10 minutes and the second boatman then doubles as your guide at the fort – a further setback of 20 INR to your pocket i.e. if you choose to go with the guide.
You can of course head out onto the fort by yourself. Negotiating the fort interiors isn’t too much of a hassle. Just remember, the last boat to the mainland leaves around 6pm.
Our group of bikers chose to head into the fort ‘with’ the guide. After the precarious boat ride across the waters, you can’t help but think to yourself ‘this better be good’. Good, it is for sure.
The mammoth arched entrance greets you out of the blue (quite literally, read: innovative architecture). The entrance to Janjira fort is built at such an angle that at first glance from afar, one can’t notice it. A feature incorporated to make it difficult for marauding powers to get on to the fort floor.
‘Jump!’ said one of my friends as I tried to gain balance on the boat while trying to change lenses on my camera, as the boat load of passengers hopped onto the jetty. All of us managed to get off the boat without slipping on the wet staircase under the tall stone entrance. A reasonable feat, if you ask me.
As you walk into the fort, a sharp right marks your entrance. The journey begins from the fort floor and takes you around the various verandahs and gun posts present in the fort. It is not very well preserved, this fort. Of the many things you will see inside the fort walls, by far the most intriguing are the two fresh water ponds, which are quite noticeable.
The queens palace lies in ruins, though is still a sight. Midway, during the tour, the guides will tell you that you have 15 minutes to climb to the top of a bunch of flights of stairs to the top of a flag tower and come back in time for the rest of the tour.
We climbed up; the view from the top is nothing short of breath-taking. Quite literally, huffing and puffing we reached the top of the tower, totting our cameras every step of the way. From the top, one can see all four corners of the fort and standing there gives you a semblance of the sheer size of the Janjira fort.
Depending upon the time of day when you visit the Janjira fort, the light will play out. I suggest that one spend the day getting to know the town of Murud, probably take a stroll through the market and then head to the fort around early evening. 3pm would be the perfect time to queue up for the ferry ride to the fort and then you can catch the sunset. In this case you will probably reach Murud town by nightfall.
There is another small beach right next to the jetty from where boats leave for the fort. It’s not a particularly clean beach and neither is it very beautiful but like most things in life, it’s beautifully imperfect. When I came to this place the first time, I chanced upon this stretch of sand and walked onto it with my camera. Within a minute, I was surrounded by children from the village nearby and I got some of my best silhouette shots ever.
I don’t think this beach even has a name!
For the photographs from this beach: Click here.
The food situation here is decent. Murud is not particularly known for its cuisine but rest assured, you WILL find some tasty, taste bud tingling and semi-hygienic grub here. It’s a fishing village after all!
Head to the fish market after sunset and buy yourself some fresh catch. Give it to a local and let ‘em cook up your dinner.
Suggestion:
Golden Swan beach resort is an up-market and beautifully put together hotel/resort/restaurant situated on the beach, near the start of the town when you are coming from Kashid (or Mumbai). The food here is very good and hygienic as well, decent vegetarian options are available too. If you plan to stay here, it will cost you anywhere between INR 3500 to INR 10,000, according to your choice of rooms and the number of people staying put. You will love the people here and the free roaming ducks too!
(Personal favourite: The Chinese food here is great and the Solkadi (A refreshing non-alcoholic drink, a speciality of Maharashtrian cuisine) is pretty darn good!)
For the budget traveller, there are quite a few small lodges and homes where home owners will let you share a room or two for a price. The costing for this type of accommodation can range from INR 300 to INR 700 depending upon the class of the place.
There are some run of the mill hotels and lodges too but they are situated off the Murud beach and are honestly a bit of a turn off. So that is a choice you are going to have to make.
The beach at Murud would give you ample opportunities to lounge around doing nothing or well, whatever you may please! I loved the photo opportunities here. The nights are equally majestic with the stars lighting up the sea. Do take a mid-night stroll, it’s totally worth it.
A weekend trip is enough time to take in most of what Murud and Janjira have to offer. For me though, it’s not so easy. I have been to the place thrice, once with friends, once solo and once with my lady but thrice is never enough!
Getting to Murud-Janjira:
Crank up that engine!
The rider and I by Nipun Srivastava
Take a bike ride. 170 kilometres from Pune and less from Mumbai, the ride to Murud will take about 4 hours.
Driving down is also a popular option. BUT. There is nothing worse than closed doors and rolled up windows of a car on serene roads.
You could also take the bus. ST or State Transport buses will get you to Kashid where a change of buses will see you walking the streets of Murud in no time. Be warned, these buses are seldom in good condition and almost always leave a painful mark on your back. Though travel in ST buses has a different thrill and it is also the cheapest way to get around.
However you do, do head out!
nirvana 