stephenbrody
Banks of the Betwa River, India
The Betwa flows through a large territory of central India known as Bundelkhand before joining the Yamuna River and finally the Ganges. The whole area had been controlled at least from the 10th cent by the medieval Chandela dynasty until the beginning of the 13th cent, when Islamic incursions forced them in part to retreat to the depths of the jungle and consolidate the astonishing temple complex of Khajuraho, which would if they’d found it have horrified the puritanical Muslims as much as it did the British surveyors who stumbled upon it in the mid 19th cent. The decline of the Chandelas encouraged the Rajput Bundela clan, themselves in retreat from the Tughlugs besieging Rajasthan, to take over and establish their new capital here in Orchha in the early years of the 16th cent. The Bundelas were able to propitiate and thus keep at bay the Mughals by what was nothing less than a campaign of seduction. A wildly extravagant and sumptuous palace next to the Hindu king’s own was given as a gift to the Emperor Jahangir, who in spite of the austerities of his faith was unable to resist the splendour, the opium and alcohol, and - so it’s hinted – the lascivious blandishments represented in the Khajuraho carvings. The consequences of this fortunate strategy can be seen in the flowering of a beautiful amalgam of classical Indian and Mughal culture and architecture, from which both sides benefitted. But with the decline of the Mughals the Bundelas also were weakened, to the stage where they abandoned Orchha, so that until quite recently it too slumbered unknown and untouched. Today, it’s hardly more than a minor village nestling amongst its collection of ancient monuments.
The river is lined with palaces, pavilions and temples, some in ruins, others more or less intact. This cluster of chhatris or royal cenotaphs owe nothing to Islamic influence, or indeed – like the Lakshinamarayan Mandir a kilometres or so away – to any other influence at all, and although weed-covered, bat-infested and deserted are in a remarkable state of preservation, presenting in the dawn light a timeless spectacle of Incredible India.
Banks of the Betwa River, India
The Betwa flows through a large territory of central India known as Bundelkhand before joining the Yamuna River and finally the Ganges. The whole area had been controlled at least from the 10th cent by the medieval Chandela dynasty until the beginning of the 13th cent, when Islamic incursions forced them in part to retreat to the depths of the jungle and consolidate the astonishing temple complex of Khajuraho, which would if they’d found it have horrified the puritanical Muslims as much as it did the British surveyors who stumbled upon it in the mid 19th cent. The decline of the Chandelas encouraged the Rajput Bundela clan, themselves in retreat from the Tughlugs besieging Rajasthan, to take over and establish their new capital here in Orchha in the early years of the 16th cent. The Bundelas were able to propitiate and thus keep at bay the Mughals by what was nothing less than a campaign of seduction. A wildly extravagant and sumptuous palace next to the Hindu king’s own was given as a gift to the Emperor Jahangir, who in spite of the austerities of his faith was unable to resist the splendour, the opium and alcohol, and - so it’s hinted – the lascivious blandishments represented in the Khajuraho carvings. The consequences of this fortunate strategy can be seen in the flowering of a beautiful amalgam of classical Indian and Mughal culture and architecture, from which both sides benefitted. But with the decline of the Mughals the Bundelas also were weakened, to the stage where they abandoned Orchha, so that until quite recently it too slumbered unknown and untouched. Today, it’s hardly more than a minor village nestling amongst its collection of ancient monuments.
The river is lined with palaces, pavilions and temples, some in ruins, others more or less intact. This cluster of chhatris or royal cenotaphs owe nothing to Islamic influence, or indeed – like the Lakshinamarayan Mandir a kilometres or so away – to any other influence at all, and although weed-covered, bat-infested and deserted are in a remarkable state of preservation, presenting in the dawn light a timeless spectacle of Incredible India.