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When James Burgess and Henry Cousens visited Patan in 1886 CE, they started asking the locals about the possibility of a water structure that the previous explorers vaguely denoted. Much to their amusement, they did find the place of that water structure but the magnitude of the task was so enormous that it took another half a century to unearth the marvel that we today call as Rani ki Vav.

However, a few meters away from the Vav, there is still a place whose original extent is yet to be deciphered fully. Its broken channels, ruined platforms and exposed foundations provide only a fragmented impression of its original scale.
This is the Sahastraling Talav!

It is a lost water heritage structure from the Chalukyan (Solanki) era from the 12th century with a water reservoir and complex hydraulic systems. As per Saraswati Purana, an earlier tank, known as Durlabh Sarovar, is traditionally attributed to the Chaulukya ruler Durlabharaja was at the site of Sahastraling talav, which later was fully developed by Jayasimha Siddharaj.

The reservoir drew its water from the nearby Saraswati river whose river bed is all we have now. Water diverted from the river near the northern end of the reservoir close to Sultan Haji’s dargah. It used to first entered a large circular regulating basin called the Rudrakupa. Post this tank, the was released into the main reservoir via three channels.

The reservoir was enclosed by massive brick embankments, Numerous platforms, pavilions, shrines and tirthas (like Surya, Vinayaka, Varaha, Brahma, Durga, etc) all along the channels. Sadly, almost all of them are raised to the ground now.

Saraswati river, however, has been an unreliable water source across the centuries. An inscription fragment found in Mahadev Kuan of Patan talks about the difficulty of filling the reservoir. Yet till 1561, at least, in the reign of the Mughals, the reservoir was evidently fit for boating. It was here around the Sahastraling where Bairam Khan was assassinated just after he finished boating in the reservoir.

However, over time, the talav lost both its water and much of its architecture. The local name Phati Patan no Pol also implies the breakage of the tank, as prevailing in the local oral traditions.

Sahasralinga Talav deserves to be understood more as a legacy hydraulic system from the early medieval period. Beneath the present fields and broken foundations survives the outline of one of medieval India’s most extraordinary experiments in shaping water into a sacred and civic landscape and certainly worthy of even more excavation.

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When I started exploring the ancient monuments of Madhya Pradesh, it was, more often than not, based on a cluster approach where we made one city the base and explored the periphery.

Later, a pattern devised itself organically. The whole stretch of the ancient Dakshinapath from Shravasti to Paithan has crossed MP, and all you need to do is trace that very route in the modern topography and the series of temples will come in front of you.

Nachne village is one such gem of a site that comes just on the Dakshinapath, just north of Pawaya. Nachne village is not something that one finds on the itinerary list. Although barely a couple of hours from the famous site of Khajuraho, there is not much information or general awareness among the masses.

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Alexander Cunningham visited the village in the early 1880s and was stunned to find huge temple remains in the village. Later on, renovation work started with the coming up of the Gwalior State Archaeology, and the likes of R. D. Banerjee visited the site in the late 1910s.

The site of present-day Nachne village would have been an important center ruled by the Vakatakas in the later half of the 4th century CE. Being close to the boundary of the Guptas and the eventual tutelage of the Vakatakas post the Prabhavati Gupta episode, the site bears a huge influence.

The oldest surviving temples in Nachne come from the 5th–6th century CE. This makes them contemporary with the earliest known temples of India—Temple 17, Tigawa, Bhitargaon, Deogarh, Bhumra, etc. At this time, the Uchchhakalpalas, feudatories of the Vakatakas, were ruling this part of the land.

The Parvati Temple (erroneously named by Cunningham) is the only remaining temple from the 5th–6th century CE here. Apart from it, the fragments of Gupta-Vakataka temples are scattered all around, like Telia Math, Lakhura Bag, Rupni Mandir, etc.

In this post, the emphasis would be on a later temple which dates to the Pratihara period, around the 8th–9th century CE. This is the Chaturmukh Mahadev Temple of Nachna Kuthara. This can be considered the pinnacle of Pratihara iconography. The chaturmukh inside the sanctum has emotions ascribed to stone. The face facing east represents Tatpurusha Shiva, while the face facing south represents Aghora; the face facing west represents Sadyojata; and the face facing north represents the Vamadeva aspect. I took more than a moment to assimilate what my eyes were having the privilege of gazing at.

The building is heterogeneously built by materials from different time. Banerjee records the renovation of the temple in 1918, whereby temple remains of the Gupta period were embedded in the concerned temple, making it a cocktail of 5th- and 9th-century temple sensibilities.

Also notice the bhadra niches (devakoshthas) with yakshas and the brilliantly made jaalis from the Gupta-Vakataka period.

When we visited the temple, it was the auspicious day of Shivaratri, and the devotees were offering their penance much like they have been doing for the last 1500 years around this temple.

What a blessed land!

The Chaturbhuj temple shines like the northern star in the skyline of Orchha. It will be the first and the last thing that one notices in the glorious town of Orchha. Standing at 344 feet tall—100 feet taller than the Qutub!—it was built by Bir Singh Bundela during the early 17th century.

Every resident of Orchha is a storyteller. If you enquire about the temple from the locals, they would indiscriminately narrate to you the legend of how Raja Madhukar Shah’s wife, Ganesh Kunwari, traveled to Ayodhya to bring Lord Ram back to Orchha. The Chaturbhuj temple was commissioned for the deity’s installation. However, upon her return, the temple was still under construction. The idol was temporarily placed in the Rani Mahal, a 16th-century palace built when Orchha became the Bundela seat of power.

Once the temple was completed, the idol of Lord Ram “refused” to move, and therefore, the palace was converted into the Ram Raja Temple.
Why Raja (king)? Because it was one of the conditions of Lord Rama to the queen that he would come as a Raja to Orchha. Even to this day, the idol receives ceremonial guards every evening.

Thus, the temple (Chaturbhuj), initially built for Raja Ram, was left vacant.

Who Built the Temple?

Scholars are divided. One strand of thought suggests that the temple was begun by Madhukar Shah and later completed by Bir Singh Deo. Another theory, supported by the likes of Hermann Goetz (1978), George Michell (1996), Catherine Asher (1992), and Giles Tillotson (1987), holds Bir Singh Deo as the sole builder of the structure we see today. It's possible that he erected the temple on the very site where Madhukar Shah once planned his.

Another noteworthy point to mention about the Ram Raja Mandir is the fact that Keshav Das’s Veercharitra, a source written at the early 17th-century court of Orchha, says nothing about the Ram Raja. This omission seems strange given the importance of the temple’s idol, the structure’s central location within the city of Orchha, and the poem’s ongoing allusions to the god Rama. Then too, there is French traveller Rousselet’s 1875 account of Orchha, which describes the Chaturbhuj temple in torrential manner but makes no mention of the Ram Raja temple, even though he resided at Phul Bagh, just north of the present-day temple. Maybe it is possible that the image could have been in the possession of the Orchha royal family for centuries, possibly housed within a shrine in this palace, and the outsiders were not allowed inside.

Even when I went to the temple for the first time, I invited a lot of moral policing because of the fact that I was taking photographs. One can only imagine the strictness of three centuries ago.

Architectural Inspiration and Evolution

Coming back to the Chaturbhuj temple, the design was largely inspired by the earlier temple of Raja Man Singh Kacchwaha in Vrindavan, the Govind Dev Temple—largely due to the undeniable resemblance in the plan of the temple. With active patronage of Padishah Akbar and the participation of the likes of Raja Man Singh and Bir Singh Deo, the land of Braj became the site of proactive dissemination of Vaishnav belief at multiple levels, more profoundly through the temples.When Bir Singh reached the zenith of his power due to his close proximity with Jahangir, he built some of the largest temples of India—Keshav Dev of Mathura Janambhoomi, Bindu Mahadev of Banaras, and Chaturbhuj Mandir. Sadly, only the Orchha temple remains today for us to experience.

The cosmopolitan factor behind the art and aesthetics of the Bundelas, particularly during Bir Singh Bundela's time, was developed as per the Vaishnava bhakti sects—more specifically the Gaudiya Sampradaya, which flourished in the sacred land of Vrindavan in the 16th century.Bundela paintings in Orchha are filled with scenes of Krishna from the Bhagavata Purana, and the central courtyard of the Chaturbhuj features a large interior space for the congregational practices of the Gaudiya Sampradaya.

Mughal Influences and Regional Adaptation

The mural traditions of Orchha and Datia—alongside contemporary painting in Amber and Bundi—represent provincial responses to Jahangiri aesthetics. While Akbar and Shah Jahan are often credited for Mughal-Rajput artistic fusion, it was during Jahangir’s reign that this interaction truly matured. Bundela artists began incorporating imperial design motifs into their work during this time, and the results were extraordinary. The fact that Bir Singh could manage all this speaks volumes about the financial prowess of the Bundelas.

In the words of Ed Rothfarb, who has written a wonderful book on Bundela art and architecture: the soaring shikharas, large dome, and vast, vaulted interior of the Chaturbhuj Mandir at Orchha diverge so much from traditional Nagara temple design that it has been compared variously to a cathedral and a congregational mosque. Bir Singh Dev built this imposing structure, dedicated to the four-armed god Chaturbhuj (a particularly regal form of Vishnu), at the heart of his capital to serve as the Orchha state temple.

The temple’s cruciform layout, Iranian-style arched vaults, and regional design features distinguish it from its Vrindavan counterpart. While the Govind Dev Temple incorporated Mughal influences—using red sandstone, figural carvings, and imperial-style ornamentation—the Chaturbhuj Temple leans more heavily on local traditions. Constructed with lakhoribricks and rubble, faced with stucco, and minimally adorned (with no figural sculpture), it uses decorative carving sparingly—mostly on chhajjas and chhatris, likely crafted from Shivpuri sandstone.

Thus, while the Orchha temple draws from the pioneering Govind Dev model, it surpasses it in ambition and scale, pushing temple architecture into new conceptual territory.

A Tale of Two Temples- Rajaram and Chaturbhuj

Lastly, it is imperative to talk about the divergent route that the destiny took for these Bundela temples. Today, unlike the Ram Raja temple—which is the star of the show—the Chaturbhuj Temple is largely devoid of active priestly presence and has lost its royal patronage. The temple’s massive scale and the political decline of the Bundelas likely deterred its sustained maintenance. The present idols in the Chaturbhuj Temple were installed by local devotees in the 20th century and are still worshipped.

On the other hand, the late-19th-century development of the neighbouring Ram Raja Mandir under the patronage of the Tikamgarh royal family indicates the shift in devotions that were supported by royal patronage. The temple receives considerable donations from across the country and houses old idols from almost every historical temple of Orchha.Such is the fate of two temples whose inception is attached to one another.

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Sanskrit has always been a language of the elite and learned. The sacred Vedas and the decrees of ancient kings were composed in Sanskrit, lending it a sanctimonious stature in Indic society. However, this reverence gradually transformed into a mechanism of social stratification. A language once meant to convey divine knowledge became, in many ways, restricted to a privileged few. Selective access to Sanskrit, especially for communities belonging to the lower varnas, speaks volumes about how linguistic exclusivity mirrored societal discrimination.

While I am all convinced that Manusmriti cannot be considered as a religious text in the true sense, it remains an essential mirror to the social structure of a millennium and a half ago. The explicit denial — even punishment — for individuals from the so-called lower varnas who attempted to read or listen to Sanskrit is well documented. The grammar of brutality for the individual from so-called lower varna against them reading (and even listening) Sanskrit speaks widely of this very thought being prevalent in society. Yes, legends like Kalidasa or Hemachandra did break the barriers.

The rise of the Śramaṇic religions — Jainism and Buddhism — underscores this point. Their conscious adoption of Pali and Prakrit was not merely a linguistic choice, but a socio-religious statement: to make teachings accessible and inclusive, beyond the confines of Sanskritic orthodoxy.

The phenomenon of ‘celebrity language’ holds true in every day and age. This stature was given to Persian in the medieval and early modern and then to English in modern India (in the Subcontinent context). Language, in every era, has served not just as a medium of communication, but as an instrument of power and prestige.

I, like many others, once assumed that the decline of Sanskrit began with the defeat of native forces by Muhammad Ghori at the Battle of Tarain. That myth was dispelled when I delved deeper into the politics of language. The bilingual Lakshmi coins of Ghori, and multiple examples of built heritage with bilingual inscriptions in northern India, revealed how Sanskrit retained its stature as a language of prestige — even during the Sultanate era.

One prominent example is the Faruqis of Khandesh, who incorporated both Sanskrit and Arabic inscriptions in the mihrabs of the Jama Masjid of Burhanpur and the Asirgarh fort mosque. These inscriptions refer to the divine using distinctly Sanskrit philosophical terms like nirguṇa (formless), avyakta (unmanifest), vyāpaka (pervading), nitya ( eternal), guṇātīta(beyond qualities), and cidātmaka (pure consciousness).

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Next comes the brilliant city of Bayana, which had multiple monuments with bilingual inscriptions — though only a few survive today. The Khan-e-Khanan Stepwell of Bayana Fort, Gindoriya Well, and the lost mosque of Bahari Behtri are notable among them. Sadly, none of the inscriptions in Bayana survives today.

South of Bayana lies Chanderi, a medieval city that preserves two remarkable examples of bilingual inscriptions. At the Kati Ghati, we find a dual inscription in Devanagari and Naskh scripts, using Sanskrit and Arabic-Persian respectively. It records that the structure was completed onMarch 12 1495 CE by Jiman Khan, son of Sher Khan, the then governor of Chanderi.

The last example is of Udaypur village of Central India. This village stand alone can target any major historical city in terms of the heritage wealth.

Here, the Qanungo Baoli bears a trilingual inscription. The first three in Arabic-Persian and the remaining ten in Sanskrit. It records the construction of the stepwell by Gokuladasa and Damodardas, sons of Qanungo Haridasa of the Mathura Kayastha family, during the reign of Shah Jahan (r. 1628– 1658). The date corresponding to this is January 13 1645 CE.

Another striking monument in the same village is the Sher Khan ( or Moti) Mosque, built in 1488 CE during the Khalji dynasty of Malwa. Inscriptions in both Sanskrit and Persian mention that it was constructed in H. 894 by Sher Khan, a member of Ghiyas Shah Khalji’s court.

Apart from these tangible examples, temporally, the use of Sanskrit is something which is amazing. During the Mughal period, we find ample evidence of active Sanskrit patronage. Emperor Akbar commissioned the Brahmin Purushottam to assign Sanskrit names to all things in existence — a gesture both symbolic and strategic. Sanskrit texts from this time interestingly refer to Muslims as "Yavanas", rather than the earlier derogatory "Mlecchas"— signalling a shift in perception and language politics.

Contrary to this, when Raja Man Singh is building monuments in Vrindavan and Rohtasgarh, in the Devanagari inscription, the wordplay is such that he calls himself ‘Rajaadhiraj’ (king of kings) and mentions Akbar as a mere friend, without any relevant title. Right next to the plate, in the Persian inscription (in Rohtasgarh), Man Singh is being humble and emphasizes the torrential titles for the Mughal emperor Akbar.

The Sanskrit interaction of medieval India and its usage can itself be a topic of PhD. Hopefully, someone will do it in the future.

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If you travel from Kanpur towards Fatehpur, you will cross the town of Bhadwara near Jahanabad. In this town lies one of the most curious brick temples, whose survival is particularly fascinating since it is located on a major medieval trade route.

The brick construction has been in use since the onset of the Indus Valley Civilization; however, the oldest surviving tangible evidence of a brick temple comes from the Bhitargaon temple of Kanpur Dehat, built in the 5th century CE during the Gupta Empire. This temple, with its intact shikhara and roof, paved the way for the elaborative Nagara style of temple architecture. In this series, we get the temple complex of Nibiya Khera.

The Nibiya Khera temple is a 9th–10th century CE structure built during the Gurjara Pratihara dynasty of Northern India in the Panchayatana layout. The presence of a Gajalakshmi panel in the temple’s lintel possibly suggests that it was originally dedicated to Vishnu. However, at some point in history, the temple was converted into a Shiva temple by repurposing the pedestal in the sanctum as a Shivling and placing Nandi statues outside.

Above the Gajalakshmi panel, there is a depiction of the Navagrahas, while the sides of the doorjambs feature typical Pratihara floral spatial designs (Latapatra), along with the representations of Ganga and Yamuna. Inside the sanctum, as mentioned earlier, the pedestal has been transformed into a Shivling. The western wall contains two ex-situ idols, which appear to be remnants of a Saptamatrika panel, with only Brahmani and Maheshwari remaining.

The temple’s façade appears to have been restored at some point. It features Gavakshas stacked in a 4-4-2-1 configuration (from bottom to top).

The Shikhara of the temple is perhaps the most intriguing part of the complex. It has twelve side facets, which is a deviation from the commonly used eight facets. The Jangha of the temple features Ghatapallava motifs, while the Shikhara is intricately carved with alternating rows of stacked Gavakshas and angular Gavaksha-pointed petal bands. This pointed petal-like element is quite rare, and I cannot recall any other brick temple with the same typology.

The Amalaka (shikhara crown) of the temple is missing. The Gavakshas themselves are an intriguing design element, their origins tracing back to Mauryan era dating back to 2nd century BCE (see the Lomas Rishi Caves). Although their original function differed, they later appeared in temples, either as individual elements—mostly on the Jangha, Shikhara & Sukanasika—or at times stacked in formations, as seen in Osian in Rajasthan and Nibiya Khera.

The second half of the Shikhara (above the Jangha) is an interesting Shikhara prototype which later becomes the inspiration for the Rekhadeul-type Shikhara from the Kalinga Nagara style. The Rekhadeul Shikhara design along with the typical Pratihara design later culminates into Vrindavan's Madan Mohan temple Shikhara in the late sixteenth century, as firstly highlighted by Sushant Bharti in his book ‘Madan Mohan An Enchanting Saga’.
This curious architectural connection between Kalinga Rekhadeul, Nibiya Khera, and Madan Mohan can be understood in the broader context of the migration of design sensibilities, particularly within the Braj-Kalinga connection initiated by Chaitanya Mahaprabhu.

Returning to the temple in question, the smaller shrines in the complex are also constructed of brick and may have once housed the Vishnu Panchayatana deities—Shiva, Shakti, Ganpati, and Surya. However, today, these four subsidiary shrines contain remnants of old idols, likely collected from this site and nearby locations. These shrines have undergone heavy restoration, featuring corbelled arches and stacked Gavakshas on their walls. Their original Shikharas did not survive the test of time and were later replaced with simple square sanctums during a poorly executed restoration, likely in the early 20th century.

Unlike many other contemporary sites, this temple complex is not situated on a riverbank but near an old water body whose traces can be still seen. Today the water body is slowly getting transformed into vast agricultural fields which was originally a pond that must have enclosed the temple complex.

Today, there is very less information about Nibiya Khera. The brick temples of Kanpur Dehat are often overshadowed by the towering Gupta-era marvel, the Bhitargaon temple. However, this entire region is dotted with brick temples dating from the Gupta to the Gurjara-Pratihara period, and Nibiya Khera is one among them.

If we think about the major forts of India today, it is most likely that Narwar will not be in our top 10 list. The reason may be its low footfall or lack of mention in contemporary contexts. However, the more I gather information about this fort, the more amazed I become.

References to Narwar start from the Mahabharata, which mentions King Nala (after whom the town was named Nalapuram). He fell in love with Damayanti, the princess of a neighboring estate. The story of Nala and Damayanti is so popular that it has been propagated through various kathavachaks of the Sanatan faith.

In the 19th century, Raja Ravi Varma painted Damyanti Talking to the Swan, depicting a scene from this story.

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The Ancient Narwar

In recorded history, Narwar was part of all the major empires, starting from the Mauryas. After the fall of the Kushans, Narwar became part of the Naga territory, which was later subdued by the Guptas. Regarding the town's nomenclature, the settlement below Narwar Fort was known as Nalapuram until the 12th century.

With the disintegration of Kannauj and the commencement of the Tripartite Struggle, the town came under King Mihir Bhoja of the Pratiharas in the 9th century. Later, as the Pratiharas weakened, their vassals, the Kacchapaghatas, became the rulers of Narwar.

However, it is certain that Narwar thrived culturally even before the Kacchapaghatas. The area around Narwar is the birthplace of maestros like Bhavabhuti, who wrote the famous play Malatimadhava.

Regarding the Kacchapaghatas, this dynasty is full of mystery, starting with its name, which loosely translates to "tortoise killers". However, historians have proposed multiple interpretations to trace their origins. This fact becomes a sine qua non in establishing that the Kacchapaghatas were vassals of the Gurjara-Pratiharas. They ruled a territory that closely resembled that of the older Naga dynasty.

Now, this name ‘Kacchapa-ghata’ has multiple interpretations like-

1. In the book Madhyaugin Bharat, Chintaman Vaidhya writes:

   "…From the word Kachchapaghat, the word Kachchh-vah is derived correctly according to the rules of Prakrit. This word or its equivalent, Kachchapari, is found in the article, and it is natural to infer from this that these Kachchabaha Rajputs were enemies of the imaginary untouchable Kachchhavas and were not Kachchhavas themselves. However, there are some untouchables named Kachchhava, and the etymology of the name Manurnaha is easy to understand—they killed the Kachchhava people and established their kingdom here.”

   (I personally do not agree with this theory.)

2. In the brilliant book A History of Rajasthan, Rima Hooja writes:

   "…traditional khyat literature has used the terms Kachhapaghata, Kachchwaha, Katsawaha, and Kurma (meaning tortoise) as synonyms for Kachhawa. Epigraphs such as the Balvan Inscription of AD 1288, the Chatsu Inscription of AD 1499, the Sanganer Inscription of AD 1601, and the Rewasa Inscription of AD 1604 also refer to the dynasty as 'Kurma.' Apparently, the term 'Kachhawa' became more popular from the late sixteenth century, during the reign of Raja Man Singh of Amber. Poets of that period, such as Amritraj in his Mancharitra Kavya (composed in AD 1585), Narottam in his Mancharitra, and Murari Das in Man Prakash Kavya, have used the terms Kurma or Kurmbha for Raja Man Singh's dynasty."

   This implies that ‘Kachhapaghata’ cannot be interpreted in a literal sense; rather, these kings would have fought under the Kurma banner, and later, the term was corrupted and came to be synonymous with ‘Tortoise slayers.’

Whatever their origins, this dynasty ruled as a dominant power, competing and negotiating with contemporary powers like the Chandels and Parmars in the Bundelkhand region, which includes places like Gwalior, Morena, Sheopur, and Narwar.

Among the architectural marvels attributed to this dynasty are the Sahastrabahu Temple in Gwalior, the Ekattarso Mahadev Chausath Yogini Temple, and significant portions of Narwar Fort.

Interestingly, as mentioned before, the Kacchapaghatas are considered the ancestors of the Kachwahas of Amber. The famous story of Kacchapaghata king Dhola (or Dulha Rai) tells of his quest to find his childhood bride, Maru, the queen of Poogal near Bikaner. When he returned to Narwar, he found it in shambles and decided to establish a new dynasty near Amber, from which the future Kachwahas emerged. Interestingly, the same Rajasthani folktale mentions that Dulha Rai had another wife from Malwa.

The Medieval Narwar

After the Kacchapaghatas, the fort came under the Delhi Sultanate, and its structures suffered widespread vandalism during the attack of Sultan Iltutmish. Unfortunately, only partial remains of the temples and Kachhapaghatas structures survive in Narwar today.

With the decline of Delhi’s control over the region, the fort was captured by the Malwa Sultans, who built many of the present-day structures inside the fort. Later, when the Lodhis gained power in the north, Narwar fell under their rule.

Ferishta records that in 1508 that Sikandar Lodi’s men remained at the fort for six months, demolishing temples and constructing mosques and other structures.

Eventually, the Mughals arrived on the scene. The next mention of Narwar comes from Akbar’s time when Adham Khan besieged the Fort of Mandu but failed to send enough war trophies back to Agra.

Akbar covered the distance from Agra to Mandu in 16 days, shocking Adham Khan and asserting that the ultimate sovereign was indeed Padishah Akbar.

On his way back to Agra, Akbar killed a tigress with a single blow of his sword—yet another statement of his dominance.

The fort remained under Mughal rule as long as they held power. It was second only to Gwalior in terms of strategic importance.

The Bourbon Connection

With the death of Aurangzeb in the Deccan, Indian polity underwent an upheaval. The Mughal emperor had become a mere puppet in the hands of court nobles, and kingmakers placed their bets on the Padishah as if playing a game of poker.

Invaders looted Delhi and its surroundings indiscriminately. When Nadir Shah invaded in 1739, a branch of the Bourbons—who had lived in Agra and Delhi since the time of Padishah Akbar—lost faith in the Mughal emperor. They migrated to Narwar and Shergarh (near Pichhore) and established their own rajadom. Narwar still houses some Bourbon graves and an 18th-century chapel.

Recently, Sotheby’s auctioned a 17th-century Mughal jade cup bearing the coat of arms of the Bourbon Narwar family.

Joseph Tiefenthaler, Jesuit priest and a brilliant geographer, who mapped the flow of Ganges basin and twenty-two provinces of India in his book, Descriptio Indiæ. He was the chaplain of the Bourbon Family in Narwar.
Tiefenthaler died in Lucknow and is buried in Agra’s Akbar’s Church, which was an important Jesuit Cathedral in the 18th century.

In 1778 CE, Francis II Bourbon of Narwar was killed in a battle. His family migrated from Narwar and settled in Gwalior for some time. Later, they were given refuge by the Nawab of Bhopal, where they were second only to the Nawab in terms of wealth.

Narwar soon fell into the hands of the Scindias in the 18th century. Many present structures, particularly in the eastern part of the fort, exhibit strong Maratha influences.

The 1857 Rebellion and Narwar’s Decline

During the First War of Independence in 1857, Narwar witnessed a significant event—the hanging of Tatya Tope, the commander of Nana Saheb’s forces. This occurred in April 1859 inside Narwar Fort.

After the turbulent rebellion, Narwar was largely forgotten. When Alexander Cunningham visited the fort, he found it in ruins. Some conservation efforts were made by the archaeology department in the 20th century.

A Forgotten Marvel

Today, the fort is difficult to reach and sees very few visitors. When I visited, it was just me, my friend, and our driver (whom I requested to accompany us).

The journey from Shivpuri to Narwar Fort takes around 70–90 minutes, with the final stretch being especially challenging. We traversed jungles and obscure roads, constantly checking our phone networks. Upon reaching the fort, I was strictly advised not to venture deeper due to leopards and jackals.

However, the effort was worth it. This fort is one of the most fascinating structures I have seen. I can't wait to visit again to find more answers!

For more images of Narwar, check out my Instagram!
https://www.instagram.com/shantanu0313/

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Agra is a quintessential Mughal city. The period from 1504 CE to 1647 CE, spanning roughly 150 years, was when this city became the seat of Hindustan—all the glory and rise of the Mughals emanated from this place. However, the decline that began with the onset of the 18th century. Aurangzeb left Braj for Deccan in 1680s never to come back again.

His successors were weak and unambitious. The Mughal emperor was just diminished to a mere puppet in the hands of the affluent nobles. The situation could only be (somewhat) stabilized with the arrival of the British in 1803 CE.

During the 18th century, Agra became an inhospitable city, primarily due to a lack of law and order, frequent looting along the royal road between Delhi and Agra, and the influx of brutal invaders, both foreign and native.

However, with Agra’s designation as a Presidency, the city once again rose as an important British stronghold in Northern India.

This led to the establishment of British settlements, and today, Agra has more pre-1857 churches than any other city in Northern India, even surpassing Delhi.

With the relatively stable environment, the local businessmen also began constructing temples and mansions. Today, the facia of Old Agra is dominated by these 19th-century structures, with only a few surviving Mughal-era buildings.

Among these remarkable 19th-century temples is the Dauji Temple of Sadar Bhatti in Agra, built sometime in the 1870s–80s.

The temple’s facade presents a fascinating blend of Mughal aesthetics, seen in the arches on the ground floor, and colonial influences, reflected in the arches on the first floor. The intricate carvings feature floral designs throughout, with an imposing sun motif at the center of the ceiling.

Inside, the temple follows the traditional chaturshala layout, similar to many temples and havelis of Shahjahanabad. It has residential spaces on three sides, with the east-facing section reserved for the deity.

A particularly striking aspect of this temple is the use of marble inlay work. The choice of stone is remarkable, combining both hard and semi-precious stones.

The cypress tree motif, a distinctly Mughal element, is inlaid with Abri stone, the same type found in Itimad-ud-Daulah’s tomb.

Additionally, the bird inlay features semi-precious stones such as lapis and carnelian, are similar to what we have in the Taj Mahal.

The temple’s courtyard is made up of red sandstone, features a large marble fountain at its center. The sanctum and its immediate arches and the outer facade, are made of Bansi Paharpur stone.

Adding to its architectural brilliance, the courtyard railings are crafted from ornately designed cast iron, characteristic of colonial-era buildings from the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Today, the temple is maintained by the Shivhare community and remains one of Agra’s most intricately designed temples.

The city of Fatehpur Sikri is known for its marvellous red sandstone monuments built by Padishah Akbar. This place was Akbar’s cherished project, which cemented Mughal dominance across India—a legacy that culminated only after the 1857.

However, the history of Sikri extends far beyond Akbar’s arrival and the establishment of the imperial city. Archaeological evidence, such as multiple cave paintings found in villages like Patsal near Fatehpur Sikri, suggests that the area was inhabited by prehistoric men.

During the 1st century CE, the region was heavily influenced by the Kushans, primarily due to its proximity to Mathura, which served as a capital and a center for red sandstone art.

Following the Kushans, a clear line of succession can be observed in Sikri, passing through the Guptas, Gurjara-Pratiharas, and Rajputs.

Excavations in various areas, such as Ajmeri Darwaza, Santha, Kagarol, and Midhakur, have unearthed multiple artefacts belonging to these dynasties.

By the dawn of the 11th century CE, the Sikarwar Rajputs controlled the region, likely ruling from present-day Nagar and Sikri villages. At this time, Agra was merely an outpost of Sikri having a fortification named Badalgarh.

With the arrival of the Turks in the 1190s, the region underwent its first major upheaval, marked by an ethnic shift in kingship and the destruction of cultural and religious sites associated with previous rulers.

However, early Turkic rule often incorporated elements of the existing traditions as a means of legitimizing authority. A notable example of this is the Lakshmi coin issued by Muhammad bin Sam (Ghori).

As Rai Pithora (Prithviraj Chauhan) fell in the Battle of Tarain in 1192 CE, the surrounding regions followed in a domino effect. Nagar and Sikri were no exceptions to these changes. Nagar soon witnessed the construction of one of the earliest Ghurid mosques in India. Today, only five such Ghurid mosques remain intact in India—located in Delhi, Kaman, Ajmer, Bayana, and Nagar.

The Jama Masjid of Nagar is the oldest surviving mosque in the Fatehpur Sikri, built in 1196 CE. It is around this time Ghori’s General, Bahauddin Tughril, established the first Muslim locality in India in Bayana near the mosque called Ukha. As Turkic rule became more established in India, more structures from the Sultanate period emerged in Sikri, the most prominent among them dating to the Khilji era.

By the time of the Sayyids, Sikri had come under the shiq (administrative division) of Bayana. However, the locality gained prominence when, sometime around 1480 CE, Bahlol Lodi invited the Chishti saint Bahauddin Chisti—who was then residing in Nizamuddin Basti, Delhi—to settle in Sikri. Along with Bahauddin came his whole family, including his son Salim Chishti, who later became the leading sufi figure gaining patronage by Padishah Akbar. This move was likely aimed at populating the frontier town between Bayana and Rajputana.

People soon began visiting Sikri to seek the saint’s blessings. Soon Sikri and Nagar had developed into well-inhabited settlements. Somewhere around 1520s, Salim Chishti left for Mecca. Unbeknownst to him, during his absence, Sikri would witness another major change in kingship.

In 1526, Babur emerged victorious in the First Battle of Panipat, marking the rise of the Mughal Empire.

Following Babur’s conquest, his army was stationed in Sikri in preparation for another decisive battle against Rana Sangha. This battle, fought some fifteen kilometers west of Sikri, resulted in Babur’s victory. As the undisputed ruler of northern India, Babur commissioned a charbagh garden and a baoli (stepwell) in Sikri, remnants of which can still be seen near Ajmeri Darwaza.

Decades later, Babur’s grandson, Akbar, visited Sikri around the decade of 1560s to seek blessings from Sheikh Salim Chishti for the birth of a son. Soon after, Akbar’s son, Salim (later Emperor Jahangir), was born in Rang Mahal, which, along with the Stonecutter’s Mosque, became the first structures commissioned by Akbar in Sikri.

Notably, the distinctive serpentine (S-shaped) brackets in the Stonecutter’s Mosque draw direct inspiration from Chanderi’s characteristic architectural style. Similarly, the pyramidal roof structures within Sikri’s royal complex reflect influences from the Lodi architectural style, as seen in Bare Kamar and Qadam Sharif in Paharganj, Delhi.

Within three years of the birth of Salim, construction of the imperial city commenced, and Fatehpur Sikri soon became the pinnacle of red sandstone architecture.

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The year 1526 CE saw a dramatic turn of events in Indian history when the Padishah of Kabul defeated the mighty army of Dilli at Panipat. As the Lodhis were ousted, the next most powerful figure, Rana Sangram Singh, who had until then underestimated and misjudged the nature of the Mughal invasion, now had no choice but to fight.

The forces of Mewar swiftly reached the outskirts of Sikri, rallying local rajas to combat the invading Turks. The army of Babur despite showing signs of moral defeat and homesickness, mostly because of the unforgiving heat of Hindustan and the stories of valour of Sangram Singh aka Rana Sangha.

In this context, the Badshah exploited religious divisions, framing the conflict as a battle between ‘Kafirs’ and ‘Ghazis’. Ironically, the so-called “Kafir army” included more than 50,000 soldiers who were Muslims.

However, the opium of religion worked like a charm and Rana and his army met with heavy injuries. His aides removed him from the battlefield, but he could not survive his wounds and the dishonour he endured, leading to his death.

The victory at Khanwa granted Babur the leverage to become the uncontested Badshah of Hindustan. He constructed several important structures in Khanwa and the nearby village of Sikri.

When I explored Khanwa, I intended to explore the buildings from Babur’s age but hardly anything remains. Cunningham also came here with the same motivation some 140 years ago, especially to find the ‘tower of skulls’ built by Babur in Khanwa, but found no remnants, suggesting that all traces of the battle had been erased by that time.

Things got much worse when Khanwa and Bayana faced one of the most brutal riots during the partition of 1947. 

The present inhabitants of Khanwa recalls how the whole village was butchered and the local Muslims were made to fled. However, Khanwa still holds a significant Muslim population who now lives in harmony with the local Hindus in the village.

Today, only two mosques in Khanwa remain in their original state. Various chattris scattered around the presumed battlefield site feature some notable architectural elements.

What rather made me most sad is the destruction of Dare Ki Masjid in the name of renovation. This completely renovated masjid would have been the most beautiful mosque here but was entirely rebuilt two decades ago.

The alleys to navigate in Khanwa village are extremely difficult. Despite having so much of heritage wealth, not even a single structure here made it to ‘protected list of monuments’.

Aside from that, Khanwa is mostly a sleepy border town and little survives except for the collective memory of the battle and partition, and the frustration of locals who lament the site’s fate.

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With the onslaught of the Battle of Succession, every Mughal prince in far-off places started to claim the throne, which unofficially had already been given to their father’s favorite son, Dara Shikoh, who was adorned with the title Padshah Shehzada-e-Buzrug Martaba (the prince of elderly stature).

Both Murad in Gujarat and Shuja in Bengal started minting coins as Padishah in their respective territories.

Aurangzeb, a loose stock in the barrel, was silent among them all. He never got along well with Shah Jahan. Although his military valor was widely known, he tended to spend most of his service away from the luxuries of Agra and Delhi.

When the news of Dara’s possible succession reached him, he went on a rampage to claim the Takht (throne).

Dharmat was won against Jaswant Singh on the banks of the Shipra River in Ujjain. The war-torn army of Aurangzeb then reached Samugarh, just ten kilometers south of Agra.

Dara had no option but to lead a war against his own brother. The more you sweat in practice, the less you bleed in war—this held so true. Dara had little to no battle experience. He spent most of his time either in intellectual debates or writing books.

With a smaller and war-torn army, Aurangzeb defeated the mighty Mughal forces near their stronghold of Agra.

Dara fled the scene. Aurangzeb arrived in Agra as a victorious (almost) king and renamed Samugarh as Fatehabad.

Meanwhile, while on his quest to capture Dara and secure the western frontiers, he betrayed his brother Murad, who was deluded into believing he would soon be king. Murad was sent to Gwalior, where he was later killed.

Shah Shuja, the governor of Bengal, who had already faced defeat in Bahadurgarh against Mirza Raja Jai Singh and Suleiman Shikoh, again tried his luck to claim the Takht. He marched toward Agra with ten thousand war elephants and hundreds of cannons operated by European gunners. It was set to be a grand show of strength—not just in numbers but also in technology, with state-of-the-art rockets, cannons, and guns.

Both forces clashed in Khajuha.

On the chilly morning of January 5, 1659, Aurangzeb, along with Mir Jumla, witnessed yet another fierce battle, which they managed to win by a slight margin.

The short yet decisive battle made Aurangzeb the undisputed monarch of Mughal India.

Shuja fled to Arakan to save his life, where he died soon after, in 1661.

Mir Jumla was sent to annex the eastern fringes of the empire and to capture Shuja. However, he, too, never returned and died in the jungles of Kamrup (Assam).

To commemorate the Battle of Khajuha, Aurangzeb built a garden, a mosque, and a Sarai. Similar monuments were erected at the other two battle sites (Dharmat and Samugarh).

The scale of Bagh Badshahi in Khajuha is simply massive. There are two pavilions built over a two-tiered platform along with an eastern enclosure wall. One of the pavilions, facing the ‘great tank’ of Khajuha, has a typical Bangladari roof, with remnants of stucco work still visible.

The western pavilion, however, is flat-roofed, much like the Diwan-e-Aam of Delhi and Agra, though on a smaller scale.

There were three stepwells in the garden connected by canals, all of which have now vanished. The walls of the garden are more or less intact, with a few aberrations in some places.

Surprisingly, the Sarai complex remains largely intact. It is a typical rectangular Sarai with massive gates and is situated right on the Old Mughal Road.

The town of Khajuha became heavily populated after the 18th century, as evident from the multiple temples built there. British records indicate that the garden was used for indigo cultivation during the 19th century.

Today, the garden is still retained by the local populace, who cultivate crops there (we visited during the mustard season).

It is noteworthy how the identity and perception of heritage change with time. Once a lush Mughal garden where the emperor spent months was later converted into an indigo field, and now it stands yellow with mustard plants swaying tall.

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Badoh is a small village in the Vidisha district with an extraordinary amount of heritage wealth. The road is not fully paved even today, and navigation within the village, especially to the temple sites, is very challenging.

Among Badoh village's monuments, the most monumental is the Gadarmal Temple, built between 9-10th century CE. Upon entering the site, you find heaps of architectural pieces scattered all around. A little further, two huge lion statues guard the intricately carved torana (gateway) of the temple. The torana was embellished with lion and shalabhanjika, which were fully intact when Beglar came here in the 1870s.

The temple is built in the typical Nagara style with all the basic elements like mandapa, antarala, and ardha mandapa, etc. The garbhagriha is rectangular, like the Teli ka Mandir in Gwalior (covered in previous posts).

The temple also has seven subsidiary shrines with varied stages of preservation (mostly dilapidated). All of this is on the large elevated platform called Jagati.

Now coming to the interesting question: Which god/ goddess was this temple attributed to? Some sources claim it to be a Jain temple owing to the presence of various Jain idols in the temple. However, the most plausible indication is towards the Shakti cult, largely owing to the iconography at the lintel (door jamb of the temple), which has the image of a four-armed goddess, probably Parvati, and navagraha marked on the right and saptamatrika panel on the left.

A pro tip: Whenever you visit any ancient temples, notice the lintel closely. It is the most important part of the temple and tells a lot about its nature.

The confusion regarding the nature of the temple has been due to the poor restoration done in the early 20th century by Gwalior State Archaeology. While one cannot be less thankful to Gwalior State Archaeology for preserving all such distant temples a hundred years ago, the technique and context-setting were so poor that they kept putting mismatched stones and figures together, making a khichri.

Anyhow, the temple has been among the most fascinating and one of the most prominent Shakti temples in the subcontinent.

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Plassey is often seen as a watershed moment in Indian history, where the British triumphed over native powers and temporally took control of territory. However, this perspective is rather myopic and lacks coherence with the vast and complex political landscape of the Indian subcontinent.

The story of British dominance began with the grant of Dastak rights in 1717 CE and was shaped by a combination of luck, pragmatism, and strategic acumen in the mid-18th century. A series of events cemented British supremacy:

These were Plassey (1757), Wandiwash (1760), Panipat (1761), and Buxar (1764). The culmination of these events virtually uprooted the ever-growing Maratha dominance and gave rise to British paramountcy.

Yet the British ambivalence to either stick with business or properly administer continued for another decade, with the Nazims like Reza Khan having administrative power with no implementing authority

Finally, this ambivalence was over with the Charter Acts, and British power became an expansionist state, like every other contemporary power.

After Bengal, their stronghold in the north was cemented by their presence in the erstwhile Mughal capital of Agra.

Further, the story of British imperialism in northern India, which had its interval in Agra, reached its climax in Allahabad.

After the capital shifted from Agra to Allahabad, the city underwent a profound transformation in terms of its landscape, town planning, architecture, and political significance.

Originally founded by Emperor Akbar, the medieval town of Illahabas witnessed a remarkable rise in monumental Gothic architecture that rivaled cities even across Europe.

This emblem of colonial might had a lavish show of strength in Allahabad. After all, it was the Lord Sahib’s prosperous town that everyone wanted to live in.

By the 1860s, Allahabad had become a center of the top political and social class of northern India.

Finally, in the early 20th century, the rise of New Delhi as the new capital marked another major shift. Once a sleepy city after 1857, Delhi became the talk of the town, and the power center transitioned to the newly built imperial city.

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