Coming from a rain-rich part of the world, I had no idea about Baolis or Baoris, water pools deep inside the ground with flights of stairs leading down to them, before I came to Delhi. The capital has quite a few famous stepwells such as Ugrasen Ki Baoli or Rajon Ki Baoli, the beautiful designs of which attract tourists and heritage enthusiasts alike. I was told by many that the arid regions in the north and west, such as Rajasthan and Gujarat, boasts of stepwells which are even more aesthetically pleasing and absolute architectural wonders, being not only sources of water or rain harvesting units, but places of worship with elaborate columns and pavilions displaying intricate carvings and sculptures of deities. These stepwells served as a spot for social interaction and shelter for pilgrims, often built near popular religious destinations.
Friends with similar interests are not easy to find, but I am lucky enough to have a few, two of whom planned and executed a Diwali day trip to see the 9th Century Chand Baori, one of such ancient stepwells and counted by many travellers amongst the “hidden secrets” of India. Located in Abhaneri village of Rajasthan, it has been described as a “magical maze” and one of the world’s deepest and “most spectacular” stepwells by various writers.
However, neither the narrations, nor the thousands of Google photos do justice to the feeling of amazement it offers to a visitor who walks through a seemingly ordinary village street full of tea shops, fruit-sellers and souvenir-peddlers to suddenly enter into an world of exquisitely symmetrical geometric patterns of steps and stairs, built in a style of an inverted pyramid. The baori, named so because it was built by Raja Chandra of Nikumbha Dynasty, has 3500 steps, 13 levels, and several pavilions and arched galleries, a few of which were later Mughal additions. Two huge pillars with fine carvings can be seen coming up majestically from the square-shaped pool of green slush, but iron railings on all sides prevent visitors from going down. This measure, taken to prevent any possible mishap, is in place since 2012, said Mr. Meena, the ASI guy managing the entry.
The site is a huge draw for foreign travellers, but there were very few Indians.
Hundreds of pieces of sculpture can be seen all over the compound, recovered from the adjacent Harshat Mata temple complex, which was built around the same time but was damaged (by Mahmud of Ghazni, some articles said) and is at present undergoing, what looked like, a massive and painstaking reconstruction effort. Harshat Mata is the goddess of happiness who spread glow of joy (abha), in the village, which thus earned the name of Abhanagri or Abhaneri.
Diwali night was a quiet affair. We lighted a few sparklers standing near the gate of our hotel (we stayed in the Haveli-style Abhaneri Niwas, offering modern amenities and simple food) and I was, inexplicably, somehow missing the sound and light show of Delhi.
However, this morning, as I opened my eyes to see a blue-and-white sky instead of a thick layer of smog, I felt better. The visit to Chand Baori was all the more worth it, as geometry, for the first time, wasn’t a source of pain for me.
(Source: Articles in Lonely Planet and Encyclopedia Britannica)
Friends with similar interests are not easy to find, but I am lucky enough to have a few, two of whom planned and executed a Diwali day trip to see the 9th Century Chand Baori, one of such ancient stepwells and counted by many travellers amongst the “hidden secrets” of India. Located in Abhaneri village of Rajasthan, it has been described as a “magical maze” and one of the world’s deepest and “most spectacular” stepwells by various writers.
However, neither the narrations, nor the thousands of Google photos do justice to the feeling of amazement it offers to a visitor who walks through a seemingly ordinary village street full of tea shops, fruit-sellers and souvenir-peddlers to suddenly enter into an world of exquisitely symmetrical geometric patterns of steps and stairs, built in a style of an inverted pyramid. The baori, named so because it was built by Raja Chandra of Nikumbha Dynasty, has 3500 steps, 13 levels, and several pavilions and arched galleries, a few of which were later Mughal additions. Two huge pillars with fine carvings can be seen coming up majestically from the square-shaped pool of green slush, but iron railings on all sides prevent visitors from going down. This measure, taken to prevent any possible mishap, is in place since 2012, said Mr. Meena, the ASI guy managing the entry.
The site is a huge draw for foreign travellers, but there were very few Indians.
Hundreds of pieces of sculpture can be seen all over the compound, recovered from the adjacent Harshat Mata temple complex, which was built around the same time but was damaged (by Mahmud of Ghazni, some articles said) and is at present undergoing, what looked like, a massive and painstaking reconstruction effort. Harshat Mata is the goddess of happiness who spread glow of joy (abha), in the village, which thus earned the name of Abhanagri or Abhaneri.
Diwali night was a quiet affair. We lighted a few sparklers standing near the gate of our hotel (we stayed in the Haveli-style Abhaneri Niwas, offering modern amenities and simple food) and I was, inexplicably, somehow missing the sound and light show of Delhi.
However, this morning, as I opened my eyes to see a blue-and-white sky instead of a thick layer of smog, I felt better. The visit to Chand Baori was all the more worth it, as geometry, for the first time, wasn’t a source of pain for me.
(Source: Articles in Lonely Planet and Encyclopedia Britannica)
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| Mathematical precision |
Harshat Mata temple
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| Abhaneri Niwas hotel |
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