http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-metroplus/article519399.ece
U nder the guise of ‘development,' among the many things disappearing from the city are heritage buildings. It's sad to see some of these gems being chomped up gluttonously by JCBs, paving way to new swanky showrooms, apartments and mansions.
As compared to its neighbouring states, Kerala doesn't have too many grand structures in stone. Instead it has its own unique style of architecture. Modest and elegant in appearance, they are a class apart in grandeur. These are predominantly made of laterite and wood. Unfortunately both of these building materials cannot withstand the vagaries of time, without proper care in a tropical region like Kerala. For the same reasons, the State has only a few surviving monuments that can be dated to ancient and early historic period, and they are mostly made in stone or are those where the ancient core of the structure has been rebuilt several times.
But what the State has in abundance are buildings that were built in the last 300 years. These include various small and big palaces, official buildings, many temples, churches, mosques and some forts. Most of them were renovated and maintained over time by the ruling kings of the Cochin and Travancore royal families and the Madras Presidency in Malabar.
And the capital city of Thiruvananthapuram is strewn with fine examples of structures built in the last few centuries. After the formation of the princely state of Travancore by Marthanda Varma (1729-58 AD), the capital of the State was shifted to Thiruvananthapuram in 1790 AD, from the earlier headquarters at Padmanabhapuram, now in Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu. Fort walls were erected to guard the seat of power.
Thus came into being the East Fort with the imposing Padmanabhaswamy temple at its centre. The temple is the finest example of Dravidian temple architecture within Kerala, and in all probability has a much ancient core. The precincts of the East Fort, has a wealth of architectural features criss-crossing the maze of old lanes and by lanes. This includes the amazing Kuthiramalika palace, the royal residence consisting of a series of ornately carved nalukettu buildings.
The fortified city also has the temple pond, many smaller Hindu shrines, religious institutions and shalai supported by the royal house, several minor palaces, mansions, agraharams (street or complex of Brahmin households), houses, and bazars, which are all a fine example of town planning and architecture of the period.
The other focal point around which the city grew 200 years ago was Palayam or the Cantonment area. It formed the hub for public offices, educational centres, museum and even a zoo. Forking out from this nodal point many areas grew into prominence, one such being the road leading to the Kowdiar Palace, the present main residence of the royal family of erstwhile Travancore.
Besides these, the city and its outskirt are dotted with fine examples of heritage architecture. But except for the religious structures, and a couple of prime palaces, most of the structures are neglected, including the fort walls. It's desperately in need of proper survey and documentation. Monitoring of new construction activities within the fort area can save it from the growing chaos. With restoration work that doesn't tinker with the age old charm, and also strengthens these heritage structures, there are various innovative ways these buildings can be put to use. But before that citizens, especially the younger generation, need to know of this wealth of heritage or `paitrukam' around them.
Bina Thomas
(The author is a consultant archaeologist)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The thing with memories….
K Kumar loved digging up the past. After all he was an Archeologist. And an accomplished one at that. But this particular digging up, he was not good at. I mean..... the digging up of memories. Its lanes and gullies. These lanes would surge in front of KK like endless alleyways with thousands of tiny by-lanes into either side. By-lanes opening into a million houses. Houses with innumerable rooms. And rooms with zillions of people. And KK would stand burdened and exasperated at the entrance of the alleyways, without even daring to turn into one of them. Even the thought of peeking into the rooms was too unnerving.
He would heave and appear faint at the very thought of rummaging through the pile of memories. His adams apple would do a fervent hop skip and jump under the fine skin of his skinny throat. There were just too many of those memories. Or perhaps they had all piled up because he had ceased to disband them long ago. You know, things get easier if you refresh or revive memories from time to time. Because, you cannot actually shut them up. But KK always preferred to bottle them up into pickles he never wanted to taste. Hoping that it would dissolve in its own acidic juices and finally go rancid and perhaps evaporate and disappear with age.
Well, it wasn’t to be so. Because, here she was. Right in front of him. Ejecting him out of his smooth train journey of life and landing painfully on a platform he’d said farewell to 20 years ago. Everything came tumbling out of his memory closet within an instance. His head throbbed, his stomach churned….. but the memory engine continued revving.
He was still reeling from the effect when she suddenly enveloped him into a warm friendly hug, and said `Hi KK. It’s been so very long’
Was it the sudden embrace of a woman, and a beautiful one at that; or whatever, KK had a pleasant feeling slid all over him……
He would heave and appear faint at the very thought of rummaging through the pile of memories. His adams apple would do a fervent hop skip and jump under the fine skin of his skinny throat. There were just too many of those memories. Or perhaps they had all piled up because he had ceased to disband them long ago. You know, things get easier if you refresh or revive memories from time to time. Because, you cannot actually shut them up. But KK always preferred to bottle them up into pickles he never wanted to taste. Hoping that it would dissolve in its own acidic juices and finally go rancid and perhaps evaporate and disappear with age.
Well, it wasn’t to be so. Because, here she was. Right in front of him. Ejecting him out of his smooth train journey of life and landing painfully on a platform he’d said farewell to 20 years ago. Everything came tumbling out of his memory closet within an instance. His head throbbed, his stomach churned….. but the memory engine continued revving.
He was still reeling from the effect when she suddenly enveloped him into a warm friendly hug, and said `Hi KK. It’s been so very long’
Was it the sudden embrace of a woman, and a beautiful one at that; or whatever, KK had a pleasant feeling slid all over him……
Friday, May 28, 2010
Biju's Mad Plan
Biju cringed with anxiety. But he had to act, as per the plan that had taken shape in his little head since the past few weeks. Sitting at his classroom desk, he watched the row of classes along the length of the school building. The rooms reminded him of the graphic details, of grandfathers splendid narration of the Central jail where Biju’s great grandparents were male and female jail-wardens respectively. The iron barred windows, the uniformed students; the stern looking teachers in every room, all seemed to make the classrooms more like a prison. It was not a pleasant place to be.
Definitely not a place that Biju fancied waking up in the wee hours of the morning for, or get washed in the cold well water, or get dabbed with fragrant talcum powder, or get dressed in fresh clothes. The worst part was saying `ta-ta’ to mother. As father pulled him along, muttering about the school jeep leaving without him and the troubles of then having to drop him by some different means of transportation and not reaching in time for the school assembly…. It all seemed like being taken to the slaughter house. Biju certainly didn’t look forward to going to school every morning. He wished and secretly prayed for many more city and state hartals and holidays. But well, things hardly changed. Each morning was the same. Getting up early and rushing to school.
Biju didn’t mind it now. He’d got used to it. When he came back home towards the end of a hot and tiring day at school, he’d wonder of all the fantastic fun and games he could have engaged in the mornings and afternoons if he’d been at home. Living in the outhouse of a big bungalow in the interiors of a small town of a lush green state like his was just great. Besides the paddy fields and the rubber plantations skirting the hills and valleys around his village, his immediate surroundings had huge teak, coconut, mango, cashew, and jackfruit trees. Since the grand old lady of the house lived alone, with frequent phone calls and occasional visits from her two children living abroad, the house or the huge yard surrounding it was hardly maintained. But Biju loved the wilderness. The serpentine pepper creepers on the mango trees, the low branches of the cashew tree, the peculiar curves of the coconut trees, and the abundance of the jackfruit trees, all enchanted him. Smaller plants like the many stray shrubs of different shaped and coloured chilies, tomatoes and ladies finger, the fragrant leaves of turmeric, stand alone trees like papaya, and coffee, and the plentitude of wild flowers and berries, made his Sunday afternoon romps very interesting. It was more an exploration. He dreamt of a day when he would go up the notches on the coconut trees like Unni tandaan, pull a swing on the topmost branches of the mango tree and learn to shoot down fruits like an ace archer.
But now, that would all have to wait. Going to school day after day barely gave him any time for such planning or practice.
According to Biju, the best time for exploration was after the initial few rains of the season. He liked the smell of the earth, and the sogginess of fallen leaves. Biju never thought of them as `dead leaves’. Instead they were protective dry covers for his favorite creepy crawlies. He would chat up with the ladybirds and the grasshoppers. He would stare in amazement at the coiling piles of tiny millipedes and the marching armies of angry red ants. The best part was monitoring the growth of sprouting new seeds of jackfruits and mangoes. He enjoyed carrying these newly germinated seeds to show the grand old lady, and if she was impressed, ask for permission to plant it in some corner of his choice. Amachi, as Biju called her, would mostly say that the plant will take ages to bear fruit, unlike the `super fast’ fruit trees bought from the plant nursery. But Biju was prepared to wait. He had all the time in the world. But this school was eating up a huge chunk of time from his days.
Once back from school, it would soon grow dark and all mothers would herd their children into their respective homes and that would be the end of another beautiful day. Kids could hardly protest. Sapped of all the energy at school itself, these little bodies would anyway be running in reserve during the couples of hours of evening play. Biju’s father and mother worked as driver and maid for the old lady. As the old lady’s caretaker they had to attend to several errands, and tasks throughout the day. Actually Biju knew his parents were only too glad to send him to school. Not only because they thought he would one day become an officer and a gentleman, but also because they wanted him out of the house and their care. Not because Biju was a naughty boy, but he was quite a wanderer and often went `missing’ in the neighborhood. Although Biju believed he could manage himself very well, his parent thought otherwise and ended up screaming out his name every two three hours. So, sending Biju to a secure and safely guarded place like school every morning, they thought, helped them to concentrate on their other duties.
But little did they know of Biju’s mad plan. He’d been planning it for a very long time. It was now time to execute it. And why not? He was big, and strong. And above all, he was brave. And he was one, two, three, four, five, and a half ……
Definitely not a place that Biju fancied waking up in the wee hours of the morning for, or get washed in the cold well water, or get dabbed with fragrant talcum powder, or get dressed in fresh clothes. The worst part was saying `ta-ta’ to mother. As father pulled him along, muttering about the school jeep leaving without him and the troubles of then having to drop him by some different means of transportation and not reaching in time for the school assembly…. It all seemed like being taken to the slaughter house. Biju certainly didn’t look forward to going to school every morning. He wished and secretly prayed for many more city and state hartals and holidays. But well, things hardly changed. Each morning was the same. Getting up early and rushing to school.
Biju didn’t mind it now. He’d got used to it. When he came back home towards the end of a hot and tiring day at school, he’d wonder of all the fantastic fun and games he could have engaged in the mornings and afternoons if he’d been at home. Living in the outhouse of a big bungalow in the interiors of a small town of a lush green state like his was just great. Besides the paddy fields and the rubber plantations skirting the hills and valleys around his village, his immediate surroundings had huge teak, coconut, mango, cashew, and jackfruit trees. Since the grand old lady of the house lived alone, with frequent phone calls and occasional visits from her two children living abroad, the house or the huge yard surrounding it was hardly maintained. But Biju loved the wilderness. The serpentine pepper creepers on the mango trees, the low branches of the cashew tree, the peculiar curves of the coconut trees, and the abundance of the jackfruit trees, all enchanted him. Smaller plants like the many stray shrubs of different shaped and coloured chilies, tomatoes and ladies finger, the fragrant leaves of turmeric, stand alone trees like papaya, and coffee, and the plentitude of wild flowers and berries, made his Sunday afternoon romps very interesting. It was more an exploration. He dreamt of a day when he would go up the notches on the coconut trees like Unni tandaan, pull a swing on the topmost branches of the mango tree and learn to shoot down fruits like an ace archer.
But now, that would all have to wait. Going to school day after day barely gave him any time for such planning or practice.
According to Biju, the best time for exploration was after the initial few rains of the season. He liked the smell of the earth, and the sogginess of fallen leaves. Biju never thought of them as `dead leaves’. Instead they were protective dry covers for his favorite creepy crawlies. He would chat up with the ladybirds and the grasshoppers. He would stare in amazement at the coiling piles of tiny millipedes and the marching armies of angry red ants. The best part was monitoring the growth of sprouting new seeds of jackfruits and mangoes. He enjoyed carrying these newly germinated seeds to show the grand old lady, and if she was impressed, ask for permission to plant it in some corner of his choice. Amachi, as Biju called her, would mostly say that the plant will take ages to bear fruit, unlike the `super fast’ fruit trees bought from the plant nursery. But Biju was prepared to wait. He had all the time in the world. But this school was eating up a huge chunk of time from his days.
Once back from school, it would soon grow dark and all mothers would herd their children into their respective homes and that would be the end of another beautiful day. Kids could hardly protest. Sapped of all the energy at school itself, these little bodies would anyway be running in reserve during the couples of hours of evening play. Biju’s father and mother worked as driver and maid for the old lady. As the old lady’s caretaker they had to attend to several errands, and tasks throughout the day. Actually Biju knew his parents were only too glad to send him to school. Not only because they thought he would one day become an officer and a gentleman, but also because they wanted him out of the house and their care. Not because Biju was a naughty boy, but he was quite a wanderer and often went `missing’ in the neighborhood. Although Biju believed he could manage himself very well, his parent thought otherwise and ended up screaming out his name every two three hours. So, sending Biju to a secure and safely guarded place like school every morning, they thought, helped them to concentrate on their other duties.
But little did they know of Biju’s mad plan. He’d been planning it for a very long time. It was now time to execute it. And why not? He was big, and strong. And above all, he was brave. And he was one, two, three, four, five, and a half ……
Thursday, May 20, 2010
biography so far....
About Me
my mother thinks i must have been a cat in my past life. because, i don't spare a single fish bone in my plate! i love cats. and i have a fetish for cleanliness, like the cat. and i hate closed rooms. i crave for windows and doors and rays of sunshine. i don't belong to any one geographical place. home is where the heart is.... and my heart was in baroda when i was little, then in pune where it snuggled up close to someone, then in bangkok where it refused to settled down, and now its terribly lost and divided between oslo and trivandrum. but there is no sense of belonging like being in india. writing (prose and poetry) happens amidst all these. heritage studies is my primary passion. working with children and young adults and writing for their age group my favorite engagement. solitary travels into quaint `upcountry' locations in india and around the globe is an addiction, managed to do a lot of it in India as a `full time' archaeologist and `part-time' environment/women/child rights activist. my writings are more of an exercise in reliving my own memories and nostalgia.... i have two kidz and one partner; actually we are college buddies who sprouted two kidz along the way. my kidz are my primary orbit. its a choice i made. i like it that way.........much much more to add.....but much much later.............
my mother thinks i must have been a cat in my past life. because, i don't spare a single fish bone in my plate! i love cats. and i have a fetish for cleanliness, like the cat. and i hate closed rooms. i crave for windows and doors and rays of sunshine. i don't belong to any one geographical place. home is where the heart is.... and my heart was in baroda when i was little, then in pune where it snuggled up close to someone, then in bangkok where it refused to settled down, and now its terribly lost and divided between oslo and trivandrum. but there is no sense of belonging like being in india. writing (prose and poetry) happens amidst all these. heritage studies is my primary passion. working with children and young adults and writing for their age group my favorite engagement. solitary travels into quaint `upcountry' locations in india and around the globe is an addiction, managed to do a lot of it in India as a `full time' archaeologist and `part-time' environment/women/child rights activist. my writings are more of an exercise in reliving my own memories and nostalgia.... i have two kidz and one partner; actually we are college buddies who sprouted two kidz along the way. my kidz are my primary orbit. its a choice i made. i like it that way.........much much more to add.....but much much later.............
Friday, May 14, 2010
Pune Diaries.....for the young ones
Chapter 1, Summer Holidays
Dear Diary,
Summer holidays weren’t that boring after all! Initially I was sad, thinking that I would be stuck in the house and in Pune city for two months, while all my friends went on vacation to various interesting places. Well, stuck in the city I was, but not in the house!!
You must be wondering what that means. Let me explain. Since we could not leave on a vacation during the summer holidays, Mom and I chalked out an itinerary for our travels and activities within the city. We were new to the city and decided to explore and discover it over a vacation. Our schedule included not just visiting places of historical importance but also of contemporary significance. In the beginning I was a little apprehensive;
“Exploring the city through this chaotic traffic and pollution,” I had asked.
“Think of it as discovering gems. Historic gems and modern day landmark establishments,” Mom has encouraged.
Even before we moved to Pune, we had heard a lot about the city. That it’s called as the `Queen of the Deccan’ was very impressive. Although, I never really tried finding out why it was called so? This second largest city of Maharashtra state is also known as the `Oxford of the East’ because of the premier educational institutions located here, some of which were the first in the country.
The `Cultural capital of Maharashtra’ - Pune most certainly is. A few months stay in Pune is enough to teach you that! Particularly during Ganesh utsav. Festivals here are livened up by a number of cultural programmes including classical as well as folk and contemporary dance, drama and music. This tradition bound city continues to host and support events which have been coming down from generations; like the recently held Palki of Sant Jyaneshwar and Tukaram. I shall tell you more about it when I narrate my visit to Alandi!
Pune was also called a `Pensioners Paradise’. This was because many senior citizens from neighboring cities, mainly from Bombay, preferred the peace and quite of Pune to settle down post retirement. Nestled in the Sahayadri Mountains, 560 m above sea level, along the confluence of the rivers Mula and Mutta, this picturesque city is inviting even today. But this sobriquet, `pensioners paradise’ for this bustling city is certainly a misnomer today.
Pune is thriving with young people from all over the country. They are either studying in one of the many colleges or working at the innumerable number of Indian as well as Multinational companies. There is also a large contingent of international student population. Added to this is the vast migrant population of artisans and skilled labour, who in search of work have made Pune their home. Today Pune has a population of over 45 lakh.
Pune definitely holds a great future. As a 12 yr old, even I can sense the promise the city holds for youngsters like me, in terms of education and opportunities. But its glorious past I was yet to discover. I will share with you my experiences. It has been a long journey. Not just discovering a city, but also its soul. In the process, not just was I learning more about the city but I was also beginning to feel more at home here!
Chapter 2, Shaniwarwada
Dear Diary,
I must have gone past the Shaniwarwada at least a few times in the past one year of being in the city, but was never interested in visiting the historical monument. So, when Mom suggested that Shaniwarwada was the first destination on our `Pune Darshan’ itinerary, I wasn’t very excited. “Why, Shaniwarwada?” I had said.
“Let’s begin at the very core,” she said, “Shaniwarwada was not just the political and cultural hub of the Peshwas, but also was and still is, the very heart of the city. Geographically too, it is located in Central Pune.”
Very soon we were navigating our way through the most crowed part of the city in a rickshaw. Our driver tried hard to dodge past the cyclist and, pedestrians, who seemed to jump in front our rickshaw, like pop up screens on my computer! Mom’s decision to not take our car through this chaotic traffic made complete sense.
“Not bad at all!” I thought as I stood in front of the impressive Delhi Gate or the main gate made of metal and wood with large spikes, so that even the enemies elephants will not succeed in forcing open the doors. For a structure that began as a residential mansion or `Wada’ to house the royal families of the Peshwas, Shaniwarwada was colossal. “That’s because, successive Peshwas added this stone fortification walls, bastions and gates” explained Mom. She had read about the monument before coming. “It took two years to build, from 10th January 1730 to 22nd January 1732. The entire complex spreads over an area of 150mx 200m (6.25 acres) and housed at least a 1000 people.”
“In all there are 5 gates,” the monument caretaker had chipped in, seeing me admiring the main gate. “The Dilli Darwaja was used by the Peshwas to set out for all their military campaigns. The others are Mastani or Alibahadur Darwaja, Khidki Darwaja, Ganesh Darwaja, and Narayan Darwaja,” he concluded. When I smiled, he wanted to engage me further with the many interesting and mysterious `stories’ about the Wada. I said “some other time” and continued with my exploration. Actually, I had heard of a few `stories’ from my classmates. But facts, like the name Shaniwarwada, for the largest Wada in Pune, was because construction began on a Shaniwar or Saturday, were really unique!!
For a monument which was destroyed by many calamities, like the fire in 1828, there is a lot to see within Shaniwarwada. The surviving foundations of minor mansions, regal halls, stables, kitchens and toilets are all so interesting. From our readings we knew that the layout of the entire Wada was spread out around two central courtyards. The much talked about Hazare Karanje or the `thousand’ spouted fountain, in the shape of a 196 petal lotus not just spoke of the decorative style of the times, but also of the intricate water works of those days. I didn’t know, until the caretaker informed me, that the water source for the fountain was an underground conduit that came from a lake in Katraj, 18kms away!
It was good fun climbing up the steps and walking along the fort walls. The view of the bustling city from the Nagarkahana, the special music gallery, set above the main gate transported me to the Peshwa era! For a moment I was Peshwa Bajirao I, addressing his people from his citadel!! Whatever the case, I was getting more and more intrigued by this city of Wadas’…..
Dear Diary,
Summer holidays weren’t that boring after all! Initially I was sad, thinking that I would be stuck in the house and in Pune city for two months, while all my friends went on vacation to various interesting places. Well, stuck in the city I was, but not in the house!!
You must be wondering what that means. Let me explain. Since we could not leave on a vacation during the summer holidays, Mom and I chalked out an itinerary for our travels and activities within the city. We were new to the city and decided to explore and discover it over a vacation. Our schedule included not just visiting places of historical importance but also of contemporary significance. In the beginning I was a little apprehensive;
“Exploring the city through this chaotic traffic and pollution,” I had asked.
“Think of it as discovering gems. Historic gems and modern day landmark establishments,” Mom has encouraged.
Even before we moved to Pune, we had heard a lot about the city. That it’s called as the `Queen of the Deccan’ was very impressive. Although, I never really tried finding out why it was called so? This second largest city of Maharashtra state is also known as the `Oxford of the East’ because of the premier educational institutions located here, some of which were the first in the country.
The `Cultural capital of Maharashtra’ - Pune most certainly is. A few months stay in Pune is enough to teach you that! Particularly during Ganesh utsav. Festivals here are livened up by a number of cultural programmes including classical as well as folk and contemporary dance, drama and music. This tradition bound city continues to host and support events which have been coming down from generations; like the recently held Palki of Sant Jyaneshwar and Tukaram. I shall tell you more about it when I narrate my visit to Alandi!
Pune was also called a `Pensioners Paradise’. This was because many senior citizens from neighboring cities, mainly from Bombay, preferred the peace and quite of Pune to settle down post retirement. Nestled in the Sahayadri Mountains, 560 m above sea level, along the confluence of the rivers Mula and Mutta, this picturesque city is inviting even today. But this sobriquet, `pensioners paradise’ for this bustling city is certainly a misnomer today.
Pune is thriving with young people from all over the country. They are either studying in one of the many colleges or working at the innumerable number of Indian as well as Multinational companies. There is also a large contingent of international student population. Added to this is the vast migrant population of artisans and skilled labour, who in search of work have made Pune their home. Today Pune has a population of over 45 lakh.
Pune definitely holds a great future. As a 12 yr old, even I can sense the promise the city holds for youngsters like me, in terms of education and opportunities. But its glorious past I was yet to discover. I will share with you my experiences. It has been a long journey. Not just discovering a city, but also its soul. In the process, not just was I learning more about the city but I was also beginning to feel more at home here!
Chapter 2, Shaniwarwada
Dear Diary,
I must have gone past the Shaniwarwada at least a few times in the past one year of being in the city, but was never interested in visiting the historical monument. So, when Mom suggested that Shaniwarwada was the first destination on our `Pune Darshan’ itinerary, I wasn’t very excited. “Why, Shaniwarwada?” I had said.
“Let’s begin at the very core,” she said, “Shaniwarwada was not just the political and cultural hub of the Peshwas, but also was and still is, the very heart of the city. Geographically too, it is located in Central Pune.”
Very soon we were navigating our way through the most crowed part of the city in a rickshaw. Our driver tried hard to dodge past the cyclist and, pedestrians, who seemed to jump in front our rickshaw, like pop up screens on my computer! Mom’s decision to not take our car through this chaotic traffic made complete sense.
“Not bad at all!” I thought as I stood in front of the impressive Delhi Gate or the main gate made of metal and wood with large spikes, so that even the enemies elephants will not succeed in forcing open the doors. For a structure that began as a residential mansion or `Wada’ to house the royal families of the Peshwas, Shaniwarwada was colossal. “That’s because, successive Peshwas added this stone fortification walls, bastions and gates” explained Mom. She had read about the monument before coming. “It took two years to build, from 10th January 1730 to 22nd January 1732. The entire complex spreads over an area of 150mx 200m (6.25 acres) and housed at least a 1000 people.”
“In all there are 5 gates,” the monument caretaker had chipped in, seeing me admiring the main gate. “The Dilli Darwaja was used by the Peshwas to set out for all their military campaigns. The others are Mastani or Alibahadur Darwaja, Khidki Darwaja, Ganesh Darwaja, and Narayan Darwaja,” he concluded. When I smiled, he wanted to engage me further with the many interesting and mysterious `stories’ about the Wada. I said “some other time” and continued with my exploration. Actually, I had heard of a few `stories’ from my classmates. But facts, like the name Shaniwarwada, for the largest Wada in Pune, was because construction began on a Shaniwar or Saturday, were really unique!!
For a monument which was destroyed by many calamities, like the fire in 1828, there is a lot to see within Shaniwarwada. The surviving foundations of minor mansions, regal halls, stables, kitchens and toilets are all so interesting. From our readings we knew that the layout of the entire Wada was spread out around two central courtyards. The much talked about Hazare Karanje or the `thousand’ spouted fountain, in the shape of a 196 petal lotus not just spoke of the decorative style of the times, but also of the intricate water works of those days. I didn’t know, until the caretaker informed me, that the water source for the fountain was an underground conduit that came from a lake in Katraj, 18kms away!
It was good fun climbing up the steps and walking along the fort walls. The view of the bustling city from the Nagarkahana, the special music gallery, set above the main gate transported me to the Peshwa era! For a moment I was Peshwa Bajirao I, addressing his people from his citadel!! Whatever the case, I was getting more and more intrigued by this city of Wadas’…..
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