A Race Against Time: Agrasen ki Baoli and Safdarjang's Tomb by Rattan Kaur Rainu

 It was October. A lovely, melancholic month, if I may say so. The essence of Autumn was wrapping us all around, brimming with a constant reminder that the infamous Delhi winter was just around the corner. It was the 20^th of October to be exact, a perfect Sunday to stroll around or just cuddle up in your blanket. For someone like me, who had been exhausted to no end and was perpetually sleep deprived, this particular day would have sounded music to my ears. Well, it did, but not for the whole ‘poetry’ that I just wrote in yearning for this day and weather. It was indeed a special day, for we had a workshop planned at the National Museum, and *drumrolls please* my most favourite person was finally coming to Delhi! Yes, you heard that right. This person whom I was meeting after 5 months was like an energy booster for me. So no way was I going to send Shriya back without our mandatory dose of adventure and just limit our meeting to a measly few hours at the workshop.

So after conducting an amazing workshop, and embarking on an endless, nuanced quest across the galleries of the National Museum (not to forget, satiating our hunger in the Museum’s café, because never should one do site covers on an empty stomach), Shriya and I decided that we should visit as many sites as we could in 3 hours, because she had a bus at 8.  We felt like we were in a video game, where at least half of our energy was already consumed and we had limited time left to complete our desired levels. Now to most people this may sound extremely taxing, but if you have gathered anything about us till now through the blogs, you know that all this gives us a high. We decided to start our adventure with the Agrasen ki Baoli (little did we know at that time that our baby, The Baolis of Delhi project, would be born in December *sigh*).

 

Situated in the heart of Delhi, amidst the bustling Connaught Place, the baoli reflected the deep contrast between the two personas of Delhi, that of the past and the present. The site was not eerily silent or devoid of humans, but, rather, was packed with people, thanks to Bollywood and the memorable dance sequences shot here (in case you do not know which movies, consider this a quiz question of sorts). Keeping aside the whole Bollywood fanfare associated with this site, another reason for such huge turnouts is because it is haunted. Yes, haunted. The baoli, in reality, is never truly empty. There are always white sari- clad women or other spirit ghosts lurking in the shadows, following your each footstep, and existing in tandem with you. Here, here. I have a tidbit regarding this spooky phenomenon for all those people screaming “there are no ghosts” right now. The temperature drop when one moves towards the water as well as the presence of bats give this site an eldritch feeling.

 

There is no certain historical proof of who built it, however, popular belief holds that it was built by a king named Agrasen and was later rebuilt by the Aggarwal community in 14^th century CE, of whom Agrasen was the progenitor of. As soon as we reached there, we saw THE sign greeting us, the infamous ASI Protected Monument sign (at this point I wanted to break out into several audible sighs). Agrasen ki Baoli has 108 steps, and each of the steps were occupied by people (or spirits). We wanted to see the well but we couldn’t because of the crowd. And, well, the foul smell emanating from it was really the worst. But we being we, traversed all difficulties and finally managed to get a glimpse of the well, only to find out people taking water from it. It was heartbreaking to see that this well looked more like a dustbin overflowing with trash than an actual well. It had no water, but plastic. The presence of bats made it even worse. Like most of the sites, the popularity of the Baoli has made it a victim of vandalism. The foul smell of garbage, bats and birds excreta makes it unbearable to even stand and observe the architectural excellence that this place has to offer. Apart from that, the bat and bird excreta being acidic in nature, even further damages the monument. This “protected” monument should be actually protected and not just used as a community centre for people. Maintenance and cleanliness of the monument is of utmost importance right now.

 

As we had only two and a half hours left, we rushed towards our next destination. The next stop was the 18^th century Mughal marvel, Safadarjang’s Tomb. It was built by Nawab Shuja-ud-Daulah as a tribute to his father Mirza Abul Mansur Khan, the governor of the province of Awadh under the reign of Muhammad Shah and later became the Prime Minister. A beautiful gate painted with floral patterns under the denticular arch of the gate greeted us both. The gate was beautifully decorated with multicolored panels. The work was so intricate and vivid that one could stand there and just admire the gate. The gateway had a small passage that led to the tomb. Throughout this walk through the gate, our heads were up, craning here and there,  in order to see the intricate carvings on the domes. I felt as if we were transported into another magical world altogether, beguiling us with its exquisite work and the myriad secrets that its walls held. It was a world, honestly, that I wished to never escape.

 

As we went inside the complex, what stood in front of us was a sandstone and marble tomb located at the centre of the Charbagh. The tomb in itself is a testament of Mughal architecture. It has a symmetrical architecture that looks similar from all the four directions, and is located atop a high plinth platform. The moment we saw that, we straightaway rushed towards the tomb. The tomb had a similar architecture at all the four entrances, but the front one had an inscription that mentions the name of Nawab Safdurjang, whose grave is inside, and the date when he ascended the Eigth Heaven. Inside the tomb was a marble cenotaph. What we saw before us was a well-maintained and properly conserved tomb. Although there were scribblings and vandalism on the inner walls of the tomb, but it was slightly less compared to some of the other archaeological sites that we have covered.

 

While we were enjoying the view standing at the circumambulatory path, Shriya told me that maybe she has been here. She wasn’t too sure, however, for the tomb of her memories was far too damaged and gone. This triggered my memory as well, and I told her that my parents used to visit this tomb, but the condition of this tomb wasn’t this well preserved as it is now. The Safdarjung tomb of the present has been reborn in a sense, shedding the grim reality of the eternity of time and embracing its original glory. One can now see clearly the fine jaali railing carved by the Mughal masons and the plain stone slab used by the conservators to maintain the authenticity of this monument. What is commendable is that you see nowhere the use of cement, but instead the original mortar which was used to fill in the gaps and mend the damages. Tapping into my inner conservator, Safdarjang tomb is that silver lining in the Indian conservation scenario according to me.

The thrill of covering more sites really couldn’t be stifled now, for we still had an hour left. Lodhi Garden was still awaiting our presence, but the sunset and ensuing darkness put a dampener on that. And so I bid Shriya goodbye, and walked back home. Back home, with tired feet, a huge smile and the enchanting memories of the sites that I covered today.