From being the descendants of Ekalavya fame to robber barons or dacoits looting and pillaging to organising themselves into a clan whose leader supported Jahangir by taking on the mighty Akbar, to becoming rulers who made their mark by building magnificent temples and palaces and reigning for two centuries before finally melting back into scrub and jungle leaving their memorials behind to be discovered centuries later. This is the rivetting story of the Bundelas of Bundelkhand who ruled from Orchha in northern Madhya Pradesh.
The legend about being Ekalavya’s descendants is not substantiated, but the Bundelas apparently do not use their thumb while releasing the arrow, in homage to their illustrious ancestor who gave up his thumb to his revered teacher Drona. But the story about their being dacoits could be plausible for in that inhospitable terrain that could have been a means of survival, just as in the Chambal Valley not far away.
It was Raja Rudra Pratap who built a wall around existing settlements of Orchha in the 16th century and commenced an orgy of building on the banks of the Betwa River.
The dynasty’s brave warrior Bir Singh Deo got involved in Mughal politics and killed one of Akbar’s ‘nine jewels’— Abul Faizal. When Jahangir came to power he rewarded Bir Singh by recalling him to Orchha and allowing him to rule.
So much for history. What remains of two centuries of Bundela rulers are magnificent edifices silhouetting their pomp and glory. The palaces are haunting. Standing in the centre of the courtyard of Raj Mahal, initiated by Raja Rudra Pratap and continued by Madhukar Shah, near a fountain which must have splashed its water onto the stones below, I could see all around the empty windows of a crumbling mansion, which hinted at the darkness that lay beyond. They looked like so many eyes, blank and mysterious. Was I influenced by the story the guide told us, about a dancing girl who was murdered in the palace? Maybe.
The queen’s chamber had murals and frescos depicting scenes from the Mahabharata and Ramayana. The colours must have glowed at one time. In the king’s chamber the guide showed us a narrow corridor which ran around it. Ostensibly it was for dancing girls who would cavort around the corridor with jingling anklets to wake the king with a musical medley. This also leads to the Sheesh Mahal which is a hotel today.
But Jahangir Mahal, built in anticipation of a visit that never materialised, was different. There was a lightness of spirit in the building, and a love of ornamentation and delicacy as seen in the fetching kiosks, finely-worked arcades and cupolas, the crouching male sculptures of the cornices, the elephants on brackets supporting the roof. The sandstone facade has painted peacocks, floral designs and geometric lapis lazuli motifs.
Climbing up to the five storeys, I was struck by the screen windows with lace like jaalis framing splendid views of the Betwa. The breezes blowing from the river were like balm to the soul. The entrance gate had two magnificent elephants of stone. A fetching mix of Indo-Islamic architecture.
The Ram Raja temple has an interesting story, about a queen who brought the statue which she obtained after much penance and prayers to her palace and kept him there while a temple was being built for him. But after completion of the Chaturbhurj temple he refused to budge and therefore was installed in her palace which now is a temple. It had all the usual accoutrements of a temple, the glitzy shops selling cheap artefacts, and a group of Ramayat sadhus playing music and lyrical Ram songs. But it was the awesome, dark and sombre Chaturbhurj which held my attention. Towering high like a cathedral, it soars in grim majesty above the smaller Ram temple, keeping everyone at a distance, unapproachable and abandoned. Instead of the idol for which it was built, the statue of the four armed Vishnu was placed there- hence the name.
But the crowning glory was the Lakshminarayan temple. Built on a slight elevation which gives some stupendous views of the city, it is triangular and resembles a fort. What is fascinating ?
On the banks of the Betwa stand impressive crumbling cenotaphs of some of the rulers — the view from the other side of the river must have been impressive, the massive cenotaphs highlighting the pomp and the pinnacle of Bundela power. But from up close, I wondered about the transience of this very same power, this ephemeral substance called fame. It was a thought that complemented the silence on the banks of the river and in the courtyards of the palaces, a silence which belonged to the jungle and the quiet flowing Betwa, a silence that brought meaning to the supposed meaning of the word Orchha — ‘the hidden place’...
