Even from far away, a person taking a trip to Lal Quila, Red Fort, or originally known as Quila-i-Mubarak, can see the huge fortified structure of red sandstone set against the skyline behind the antique open rickshaws and unique architecture of Old Delhi.
Another historic trip, another travel post. Well, the Red Fort was one hell of an experience, just the perfect one if you want a short trip to a place where the history flows like a deep, flowing river. The Red Fort, along with its tumultuous history, is an eye candy for observing the art and architectural styles of the Middle Ages.
The reason the capital of the Mughals was shifted from Agra to Delhi was Shah Jahan's love for majestic processions, which proved futile in the congested roads of Agra. That majesty can be seen quivering in the heart of the Red Fort.
There's a fort, readied for defence, so, it's the next obvious choice to build a moat. As soon as one enters, the majestic fort rises up surrounded by a dried-up moat once full of crocodiles and piranhas. The moat must be about medium in width, which is compensated by the well-thought defence mechanisms on the fort walls. Basically, the wall is divided into three parts based on the height where slits are set against the sandstone, just enough for the archers to shoot. The slits widen as the height of the wall increases, and at the top, the enemies from far away can be easily ambushed by cannons, if not arrows.
The outer wall is the ultimate symbol of defence, as helmet-like structures can be seen carved on the top of the wall at regular intervals. Lots of things have happened in this particular place, filled by the feelings of Shah Jahan and his children, including Aurangzeb, Dara Shikoh, Jahanara, and Roshanara.
Shah Jahan, or Khurram, was a renowned lover of art and architecture, which can be seen in the pillars and domes. However, attached to this were wise battle strategies.
Chhatta Chowk
The entrance to the fort is adorned by the Delhi Gate, renamed by Aurangzeb as Lahori Gate. Then wafting comes the cool, pleasant air on your face as you enter the eminent Chhatta Chowk, the first covered market of North India. In those times, it was more like Shah Jahan's personal market where he used to buy his perfumes, carpets, and lavish adornments. People from as far as Persia came to sell their wares, and the balconies built beneath the roof were places for the people to view the king's procession.
Naubat Khana
Moving on, one can see a building built by the British to your left, the dull among the beautiful. There's a roundabout leading up to a just as old building and further on, most of the space is covered by lawns with colourful flowers here and there sending a sweet scent through the air. Next comes the Naubat Khana, where
nagadas were beaten in a variety of tunes to send a variety of messages across Shahjahanabad, the sixth city of Old Delhi. On its first and second stories has been launched the Indian War Memorial Museum.
An intricate display of weapons, defensive equipment and old-age technology completes this fascinating museum. Swords of different hilts, shapes and edges, rifles with hundreds of types of bullets, the chainmail and the shields are riddled with ancient history. The telephone, signalling system, pressure measurement system, fuses and bombshells (some a meter high), send shivers through one's body.
Diwan-i-Am
Stretching out in front of the Naubat Khana is a road leading to the Diwan-i-Am, the Hall of the people. On that road only the foot of a human was allowed, except for Dara Shikoh, for only he was allowed to ride up to the Hall on a horse.
The Diwan-i-Am is a brilliantly constructed open hall where every single spot is visible from the king's high throne, which is carved and printed with detailed designs of pietra dura. On both the sides of the throne are nets of marble behind which used to sit Jahanara (in the more majestic one) and Roshanara, to learn from the judgments of their father. A voice from one far end of the hall can be heard at the other far end of the hall, such is its built. On the edge of the roof hang hooks from where leather curtains were hung in the winter and
khus curtains were hung in the summer.
One can see many turns along the way, which were aimed at slowing down the attacking army. Spotted at the side are a few British buildings one of which was built in place of a major part of the fort during the revolt of 1857.
Onwards appear lawns typically divided into four parts with water flowing in between the paths dividing the expanse. The Hayat Bakhsh Bagh is one of them. Then arrives the Moti Masjid, the personal mosque of Aurangzeb, who was too afraid to go pray in the Jama Masjid. Ahead of that is the Hammam, Shah Jahan's spa, where a hundred people worked (surprise much?)
Diwan-i-Khas
The Diwan-i-Khas dawns like the sun with its symbolic architecture singing of justice. On one of its walls is inscribed a
taraju, an instrument for comparing weights, which clearly signifies equality in the face of the law. Inside, the pietra dura beautify the Diwan-i-khas to a divine extent.
A short passage of once-existing Yamuna water leads to the Khas Mahal, the residence of Shah Jahan ,and onwards to the Rang Mahal, the residence of the queens.
It is perhaps interesting to note that the bedroom of Shah Jahan, the Khas Mahal was honourably named the Khwaabgah, the abode of his dreams. The majesty of the thoughts of the people in those times surpass the ability of the most famed philosophers of the day.
Even more fascinating is the fact that the whole complex is shaped like a bow. The Yamuna which flowed in front of it, which has now changed its course, was the string, and the straight road leading to Jama Masjid was the skilled hand, imbibing power from God.
It's riveting to note that an equal part of the fort exists beneath it, in the basements, which were the refuge of the royalty during the hot summers. Unfortunately, the people aren't allowed to enter the area, so as to prevent spoiling the greatest architectural works of the age.
There are numerous great things about the Quila-i-Mubarak, the greatest being the intricate signs present in the smallest of things, signs which contain an infinite amount of history, complimented in between with melodies of symbolism and art. As one stands there, closing his/her eyes and opening them to reveal the surroundings re-winded to that enlightening age, the body feels vibrations, sending a message that history is much more than we believe. It's the inescapable reality.
Last but not the least, hats off if you managed to read this whole post. Hats off to you, man.
