1 week Ago By Firstpost
In recent weeks, the Waqf Board has been in the headlines in Karnataka. The Board’s laying claims to tracts of land have agitated farmers, and this has triggered concern about whose land they may point to next. The issue seems to be growing.
Amidst this has come the revelation that, in an action dated to 2005, the Waqf gentlemen had also laid claim to 17 historic monuments inside the fort of Bidar, in north Karnataka. Perhaps the most startled is the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). Bidar Fort was declared a protected monument in the Gazette of India dated to November 1951.
Since then, it has been in the custody of the ASI. Moreover, the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites Remains (AMASR) Act of 1958 gives ASI sole authority to ensure the maintenance, renovation, and conservation of such sites, and as it stands, such ASI properties cannot be transferred or de-notified under current regulations. While it has been clarified that the ASI has not yet been served with an eviction notice, the brazenness of this action is shocking.
The fort at Bidar is a historic place. It is part of the tentative list of UNESCO World Heritage sites under the wider umbrella of ‘ Monuments and Forts of the Deccan Sultanate ’. But to understand its true significance in the history of the Deccan, we need to step into the past.
It was in 1296 that the armies of the Delhi Sultanate, led by Ala-ud-din Khilji, conquered Devagiri as a gateway to the wider Deccan. The city was the capital of the Yadavas, one of the two major powers of the region, the other being the Kakatiyas. The latter also fell and Khilji’s marauding armies went all the way south to Madurai.
Over time, the Khiljis themselves were replaced by the Tughlaks, and a ruler of this dynasty decided to shift the Sultanate’s capital from Delhi to Devagiri, now called Daulatabad. While this shift proved short-lived and the capital went back to Delhi, the Tughlaks left behind a governor in Daulatabad. In due course, there was rebellion in the Deccan—one that Delhi failed to suppress—and hence emerged a new dynasty called the Bahmanis, who established their court in Gulbarga.
In the words of historian Manu Pillai, “The Bahmanis, like most royal houses of their time, occupied a world of power, greed, and the most internecine rivalries. Jealousies swirled all around them, poisoning bonds of blood and fidelity, brothers fighting brothers, suspicion breeding hatred.” This suspicion and conflict were added to by a line of Sufis who lent their opportunistic support to whoever they could gain from the most.
After four generations of stabbings, blindings, and murder, a ruler whom we now call Ahmad Shah I (reign 1422–36) decided to make a clean break from the troubled past and shifted the Bahmani capital from Gulbarga to Bidar. This was an old town, held at different points by the Yadavas and the Kakatiyas. It lay close to Basavakalyana, capital of the Chalukyan dynasty till the 12th century.
Squarely in the middle of the Deccan, the new capital prospered. Trade boomed. Horses from Central and West Asia were sold here by the thousands, while cotton from the Deccan was popular abroad.
Silk came in the cocoon stage from China to the Konkan, where it was dyed, woven, and exported to the Middle East. With goods came merchants and travellers who wrote accounts of the prosperity they saw in the capital of the Bahmanis. The signs of that prosperity are observed in Bidar even today.
From the evidence available, it was a planned city. On one side stood the fort, which controlled the area. On the other was the city, also home to several religious buildings.
Bidar had impressive stone fortifications, parts of which are still visible, complete with positions for muskets to be fired and cannons to be placed. The fortifications of the city are said to date from the end of the 15th century and were strengthened by every dynasty that took charge. The fort is entered via a series of gateways, the last one being the Gumbad Darwaza, which owes its name to an impressive dome that crowns it.
Entering it makes an individual feel as if he has gone through a time portal into the mediaeval past. With landscaped gardens, palaces, mosques, and evocative ruins, the place looks atmospheric. Varying styles of architecture found here have made some historians believe that Bidar witnessed the interweaving of designs from Persia with those of Hindu artisans.
There is the well-preserved Rangeen Mahal, partially made of wood. Its decorative features include patterns of flowers and birds, reminiscent of Persian carpets. Facing a Mughal Garden known as the Lal Bagh is the Solah Khamba, one of the structures claimed by the Waqf.
Earlier considered a mosque, this has been reinterpreted as a ceremonial audience hall. By the end of the 1480s, the Bahmanis were in decay, and the kingdom fractured into parts. Bidar was ruled by a dynasty called the Barid Shahis.
The Tarkash Mahal within the fort is said to date from this transition period. Close by, the diwan-i-am and the Takht Mahal are shells of what they were but still give glimpses of past glory, as do several courtyards and fountains. Elsewhere in the town is the magnificent madrasa built by a powerful 15th century Wazir of Bidar, Mahmud Gawan, about whom volumes can be written.
Although ruined, the madrasa’s strong resemblance to the architecture of Samarkand makes one wonder if artisans from that place worked here. Just outside Bidar is Ashtur, marked by a necropolis containing elegant tombs of the Bahmani kings. Painted interiors within again remind one of Persia.
Bidar changed hands numerous times. From the Chalukyans to the Yadavas and the Kakatiyas, from the Bahmanis to the Barid Shahis to the Adil Shahis of Bijapur to the Mughals to the Nizam Shahis of Golconda-Hyderabad, many left their mark on this stage. It was a place where natives from the Deccan rubbed shoulders with those from Persia, a place that had a quarter named after Habshis—people from what is now Ethiopia.
The city and the fort carry their signs. This interaction led to the creation of a wonderful craft called Bidari work, which continues to thrive today. The attempt by the Waqf Board to grab this heritage city forces one to wonder why such a body has been allowed to exist and thrive in a modern, secular state.
One hopes that Indian lawmakers show a clear way forward rather than indulge in politics of appeasement, which can set a terrible precedent for sites across India. The author is a heritage explorer by inclination with a penchant for seeking obscure sites. A brand consultant by profession, he tweets @HiddenHeritage.
Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views..
