Saturday, 27 July 2019

Opportunist or Strategist? Church mein Charcha on Begum Samru

“What were you doing in Sardhana, of all places, on a Sunday,” asked a friend, after I came back from a short trip earlier this month. “I went to see the 200-year-old Basilica of Our Lady of Graces built by Begum Samru,” I replied. The next question, naturally, was “who was she”?

Now, there can be no easy answer to it. In short, she was the daughter of a Mughal nobleman who, after her father’s death, somehow ended up being trained as a dancer at Chawri Bazar, Delhi; in 1765 or so, at the age of 14, she became the companion of an Austrian mercenary named Walter Reinhardt who used to offer the services of his private army to various masters for money; they worked together and grew from strength to strength in the court of weak Mughal king Shah Alam II, eventually securing the rights of revenue-rich principality of Sardhana which passed on to her after Reinhardt's death a few years later; she lorded over it for five decades, converted to Catholicism, led an army of 4,000 troops in various battles and earned the reputation of being one of the most successful political negotiators of her time.

But there are many intriguing sub-plots within this plot, which prompted chroniclers to have two opposing views about her – some praised her as a master strategist and some saw her as a rank opportunist.

I came across some parts of the story during a heritage tour of Chandni Chowk, when it was said that Bhagirath Palace, the congested electronics goods market, was once part of her lavish residential complex, as was the present SBI building there. The church constructed by her at a then-princely sum of Rs. four lakh was mentioned, too. So, when I got a chance to go on a trip to Sardhana (in Meerat district) curated by a walkers' group, I joined with eagerness.

The morning drive, in the vehicles of kind co-walkers, was uneventful except a stopover at a roadside place famous for its sikhanji (which turned out to be a bit overhyped). The church, inside a large compound surrounded by sugarcane fields and dark-shaded mango orchards, was a treat to the eyes, though.

Our Lady of Graces, now recognized as a minor Basilica, was completed in 1820. In 1834, Begum Samru requested the then Pope Gregory XVI to make Sardhana an independent circumscription, while describing Our Lady of the Graces as one of the “finest churches” in India. The architect of the church was Anthony Reghelini, an officer in the Begum’s army. The central dome reminds one of the St James Church in Delhi, as does the honey-yellow colour used extensively in the building. The two spires touching the sky are quite striking and create a perfect picture along with the dome. Inside, there are several large chambers, statues and artworks, including a huge sculpture of Begum Samru herself, (installed by her adopted son after her death) sitting on a chair holding the ‘sanad’ issued in her name by Shah Alam, conferring the rights of Sardhana. It is surrounded by several other figures and marble plaques, including one of Begum Samru commandeering her troops.





These are the soldiers who, after the death of Reinhardt a.k.a. Le Sombre (named so because of his solemn demeanour, which was later Indianised to Samru), petitioned to Shah Alam that the rights of Sardhana should pass on to the Begum instead of her stepson Zafar Yab. One of our main walk organizers took up the mantle of a narrator and shared several snippets of the extraordinary story of her life. How her superb negotiation skills once helped Shah Alam seal a deal with Sikh troops led by Baba Baghel Singh, who were on the verge of taking over his throne, but left after extracting right to build eight gurudwaras in Delhi; how she sent her army to help the Marathas in the Battle of Assaye in 1803, but entered into a deal with the British after they emerged victorious, keeping her powers intact; and how her troops once revolted against her after she fell in love with a French adventurer. The story ended interestingly – the couple fled and entered into a suicide pact after being cornered by soldiers. The Begum stabbed herself but managed not to die while the guy shot himself to death. Another ex-lover helped in her rescue and her restoration as ruler.






Survivor or deceiver? Questions may remain and answers may vary. But there is no doubt that the four-and-a-half feet tall woman who led men in bloody wars at that time, presided over her court wearing a turban, carved a niche for herself in a world of male leaders, kings and warriors, named herself Joanna after the legendary Joan of Arc, and left behind an unimaginable fortune of approximately 55.5 million gold marks, was no ordinary mortal. Her church is considered as a key site of pilgrimage and hundreds still visit it every day. And despite stories of her cruelty against rivals doing the rounds, it is said that she was a benevolent ruler to her subjects as well as a patron of the arts.

As we were on our way back after clicking hundreds of pictures of the church complex and having a tasty meal of the goodies brought by various members of our group, a co-walker remarked, “there should be a movie on her life".

Indeed. And that will be more of the thriller genre, rather than a biopic.


(Source: 1. Walk group storyteller Mr Kulashrestha's narration; 2. Begum Samru: How the 18th century dancer grew to rule over a principality. By Archana Garodia Gupta; 3. India’s forgotten power broker—what was her secret? By Priyanka Borpujari.)

# Pic of the Begum: from the book published on her by the Sardhana church authorities



Toy Story: Binaca Toothpaste

When I was 5 or 6, my most earnest desire was to lay my hands on some 20-25 solid plastic animal figurines, very small but perfectly made, and kept in a pink powder box in my mom's dressing table drawer. These toys were given as freebies in Binaca toothpaste packs in the 70s and my mom had a collection from the time before I was born. I was forbidden to touch the elusive drawer, for all of my mom's favourite things were there and it is so ingrained in my mind that even today, I hesitate before opening it. Mom's collection is still there in the same box and I still get fascinated by them. I don't remember using Binaca, though. It was Colgate all the way in my childhood. But if you search for "Binaca toys" in Google, you can see quite a few blogs and memoirs, mostly by people in their middle ages, mentioning these little beauties, and narrating their own stories of collection, exchange of duplicates, and trading in these toys as children.


Friday, 5 July 2019

Rewalsar: The Confluence of Three Faiths


To be frank, I never heard about Rewalsar before I went to a trip to Mandi in Himachal Pradesh, and was told that our itinerary includes a visit to the town. As we started our travel to Rewalsar, situated at an elevation of 1,360 m above sea level and around 23 km from Mandi, I asked the guy driving us about its claim to fame. (Generally, my first instinct is to go for Google, but during the entire two-day trip, my data connection malfunctioned).  He replied that it is sacred to people of three faiths, and the lake is surrounded by three temples, two monasteries and a gurudwara. I was somehow not convinced that a lake in the middle of a bustling town will offer a good view, and shifted my attention to the beauty of the road.

Reaching there, we took the circular path along the lake (many devotees undertake a “pradakshina” of the waters, considered holy). Standing beside it, you can have a good view of the all the places of worship and houses, painted in bright colours, Rains started pouring in, and the fluttering Tibetan flags, the temple trishul, the yellow sloping roof of a monastery, the golden dome of the gurudwara built to honour a visit by Guru Gobind Singh, contrasted and combined amid a floating mist. Towering above all was a 123-ft statue of Padmasambhava, or Guru Rinpoche, who spread Vajrayana Buddhism in Tibet. The legend is that he was teaching Buddhist principles to the local king’s daughter. The monarch, upset about it, tried to burn him, but he reappeared in the form of a young boy sitting on a lotus in the middle of the lake, a miracle that changed the king’s heart. Tibetans call it Tso Pema, or the Lotus Lake.

Braving rains, we went to the temple dedicated to puranic sage Lomash Muni. The rishi, whose name is mentioned in both Ramayana and Mahabharata, is believed to have meditated near the lake. We had to take shelter in the temple for some time as the gods were throwing down spears and arrows. After a short tea break, we walked up through narrow, serpentine lanes full of shops selling knick-knacks and then climbed a substantial number of steps to reach the feet of the Padmasambhava statue. But the panoramic view of the lake and town from above was worth the trudge. The rain was a constant companion and I was praising myself for the last-minute decision to pack a raincoat.

There are several other temples and monasteries in the area, apart from a cave shrine for the princess in the aforesaid Rinpoche story, but time was running out for us. The trip to Rewalsar, the unknown wonder, culminated with a tasty treat in a small Tibetan eatery, which served delicious mutton momos. The ice tea was too sugary, but if you think about it, it was natural to have something sweet at the confluence of three faiths.

Lomash Rishi temple


Padmasambhava statue towers above everything


View from up


Panoramic view of the town 

At a shop near the lake



Thursday, 4 July 2019

Temple Run: Mandi, Mandir and Mythology

“Mandi has 81 ancient temples, one more than Kashi,” our young charioteer Pawanjee declared proudly as we drove through the picturesque town in the hills of Himachal. I am not sure about the authenticity of the claim, but there was no doubt that the town, where I had gone on a two-day tour with two of my friends a fortnight back, lives up to its nicknames of “Chhoti Kashi” and “Varanasi of the Hills”. The streets are dotted with temples, some painted in vivacious colours such as blue and pink (I even saw one in black with gold borders, dedicated to the Saturn-god) and some, especially the older ones, made of grey stones. We visited five of the 81, amid intermittent rains, traversing through slippery cobbled pathways, with our driver acting as a guide-cum-storyteller-cum-mythology exponent.

The best moment of the “temple run” was at ancient Panchvaktra Mahadev Mandir, situated beside the confluence of Beas and Suketi Khud. As I stood facing the shikhara-style structure and was admiring the beautiful carvings on the walls, the drizzle continuing since morning turned into heavy rains. The cloudy yellow sky, the green-and-steel-hued waters of the two rivers in spate, and the ash-smeared appearance of the temple complex created a perfect picture. The Shiva idol here has five faces, representing his five manifestations – Aghora, Ishana,Tat Purusha, Vaamdeva and Rudra.

Panchvaktra temple

Riverside view



Among the five we visited, two more were Shiva temples. Bhootnath temple was constructed in 1520s by then king Raja Ajber Sen of the princely state of Mandi, who is also credited with building the town itself. The other was a rare Mahamrityunjaya temple, where the three-eyed form of Lord Shiva is worshipped as the conqueror of death.

The Bhima Kali temple and the Tarna Mata/Shyama Kali temple have beautiful depictions of the 10 Mahavidyas on their walls. The latter especially attracted my attention as it had some similarities with the temple architecture of Bengal. Interestingly, it is said that the Sen Kings of Mandi share the same ancestors as that of the Sen Dynasty of Bengal. The Tarna Devi temple witnesses huge rush of devotees during the annual international Shivaratri fair at Mandi as it hosts the presiding deity of the festival, Lord Kamrunag, for eight days, we were told.

At Bhima Kali temple

Mandi cityscape

A pillar of the gate of Bhootnath temple

Dwarpal at Mahamrityunjay

Tarna Mata Mandir

The Lake Isle of Prashar: In fact, the name of popular local deity Dev Kamrunag was also mentioned by our storyteller Pawanjee during our previous day’s trip to the scenic Prashar Lake. I had read earlier about the serenity and tranquility of the lake, 49 kms from Mandi, nestled among the hills and reflecting the colour of the blue sky, but the stories and beliefs around it were interesting additions. It is believed that the lake was created by second Pandav Bheem when the brothers were returning from the Kurukshetra war, accompanied by Lord Kamrunag, who expressed his wish to reside at the beautiful site.

A pagoda-style wooden temple, which is dedicated to sage Prashar/Parashar (father of Mahabharata chronicler Veda-vyas), lies beside the lake. There is a circular floating island at one corner of the water body. “It used to move around in the lake earlier. Now that has stopped because too many people are unburdening their sins here. Till now, no one could determine the depth of this sacred lake,” Pawanjee said. It is also believed by people here that if the island sinks, that will end the life on earth.

As we were sitting on a Delhi-bound bus that night, leaving behind the hills, the rains, and the laid-back charm of the town of Mandi, I was remembering the stories and thinking that if they help conserve the lake in its pristine glory, it would not be a bad thing after all.
Prashar temple

The floating island in the lake

Beauty of the Hills