Where are the palaces, gardens?

Travelogue

While travelling across the nooks and corners of India, chances are that you may often encounter a brick wall somewhere on the outskirts in a nondescript village in your journey, with some history attached to it.

Sometimes these walls are broken, sometimes they are surrounded by stagnant water and many a time they serve as shelter for cattle and homeless people. 

Some of these broken walls present themselves as a rampart or a mantapa, with a tag announcing that they are ancient monuments. Each broken brick or stone has a story of its own and tells the tale of a battle lost and won.

Such broken walls sometimes take the name of a kote or a fort and any villager will weave a story around it, original or manufactured...But therein lies the charm of these structures that have possibly stood the test of time.

I encountered one such kote when I was driving down from Tumkur towards the town of Sira, once known as the capital town of the province created by the Mughals when they conquered this part of the territory.

History texts paint Sira as a town full of palaces and gardens under Governor Dilawar Khan, but the 17th-century town seems to have faded into the pages of those very books. What one sees today is just another nondescript town, bursting with pigs and people, mired in dust. The inhabitants are, however, eager to please the rare tourist who comes shopping into their little town, waiting to lap up the local sights and sounds. And thus, I found an auto driver who was willing to take me around and proudly showcase the tourist attractions, lying, however, in ruins.  

Expanse of blue

We stopped by at Sira lake. A vast blue expanse of crystal clear water, which my guide says serves the water needs of the town. A few swallows were flying around as a couple of locals watched us in amusement. At the far end of the lake were the remains of an old fort which caught my attention.

My guide wasn’t too keen that we walk up the path from the lake. “There is a different entrance, we will go that way,” he said. Before I could protest, he was already on his way and we followed suit. When he did stop, I realised why he would have wanted us to take this route.

The fort looked majestic even amidst the crumbling walls. We did not fail to notice the stagnant water bordered by some dwarfed plants crowding the moat as we walked around the stone structure. The path curved as we reached the gateway, with a side doorway, carved in stone.

A small mantapa supported by stone and granite pillars adorned with sculptures served as a resting place for some people who were fast asleep. Some of the pillars were broken and were thrown around and replaced. A couple of locals started following us, attempting to start a conversation and suggesting view points. We climbed up the ramparts and the walls stretched as far as I could see.

There was just nothingness around – acres of vacant land. The waters of the lake broke the monotony with a tinge of blue.  

Delving into the fort’s history

The fort was probably the foundation of the town, long before Aurangazeb and his governors even made it a capital of a province. History books mention that the fort was credited to Rangappa Nayak of Ratnagiri.

The Mysore Gazetteer adds that the fort was not completed, but was taken over by a general of the Bijapur state and later, the governor Malik Rihan fortified it with mud walls in the 17th century. When the Mughals finally created the province, it was from this fort that the neighbouring towns and territories like Doddaballapur, Hoskote, Kolar, Anegundi and even Mysore were administered.

Even today, you can see traces of the inner and outer mud walls around the fortress. I heard that people used to live inside the fort as we could see some remains of  structures. A ruined mosque and a broken well were lying amidst the crumbles. Locals were superstitious about the well, as they believed that wives of the rulers jumped into it when the town was invaded by different dynasties. 

Superstitious or otherwise, it did have a melancholic air about it - the story of a town that seemed to have passed into oblivion and indifference. My guide was getting a bit agitated. He wanted to showcase the cheerful aspects of his town.

“A movie was shot here,” he said, trying to get me enthused about the fort. “The government is planning to spend crores of money to restore it,” he tried again.” We were told it will look like it used to be before, in the old days ..You know, the gardens here were the model for Lalbagh in Bangalore...” His voice trailed off,  as we smiled at each other and he nodded, saying he was waiting for that day, when the fort would regain its former glory.