​​​​​​​Far Pavilions

Pining for the mellifluous voice of Rani Roopmati and the soft strains of music that once reverberated in its corridors, sits forlorn the citadel of Mandu, atop the hill watching the revered Narmada gently flow by.

- Shoma Abhyankar

 Dating back to 11th century, on a distant hill of the Vindhya ranges is Mandapa Durg or Buddhi Mandu, the old Mandu with rock cut caves and temples dedicated to Lord Shiva, that was ruled by the Parmar kings. A flourishing town, Mandapa Durg, attracted much attention. Attacked, plundered and desecrated by many rulers from Delhi, the town gradually lost its Hindu origins and somewhere along the time came to be known as Mandu.

On a summer trip to Indore, a sudden plan to visit Mandu materialised amidst strong protests and discouraging heat waves. Mandu is best visited in monsoons when the dry bleak brown landscape of deep chasms, mysterious cervices, sharp-edged cliffs and defiant plateaus are clothed in softer soothing emerald-esque hues. It is during the rains that the little lakes come back to life and proudly show off the reflections of palaces and pavilions. And it is during the rains that the freshly bathed ruins speak of the bygone era.

But I had no patience to wait for the monsoon and revisit the region. I reached Mandu under the scorching sun and was immediately drawn to makeshift stalls selling sweet and sour juice made from large sweet potato look-alike fruits of the Baobab tree locally called ‘Mandu ki imli’. The surprisingly refreshing juice boosted the sapped energy just enough for me to explore the stone ruins.

A wiry middle-aged man claiming to be a legitimate guide convinced me to hire his services. It was a wise decision considering that the monuments segregated in distinct groups are strewn over an expanse of 13 kilometres within the battlement walls.