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Published: November 11th 2018
Sara is feeling rather better. It's 8am and we decide to walk the heritage trail on our own, a round trip of about 3 miles. Just outside our hotel and opposite the Sidi Sayeed mosque are about a dozen beggars in their usual position seeking alms. There are people sleeping in the street and on charpoys, the whole place is incredibly dirty and smelly but still basically asleep. The first place we encounter is one of the great gateways into the Badhra fort. Sadly much of this has either been demolished or turned into government offices so there's not much to see. Next to it is a Hindu temple that is giving hot meals to the poor wretches who present themselves and sit quietly in two lines in front of the temple. Women gypsy beggars appear from nowhere and start pawing Sara in particular. We swat them away, it may seem heartless but it is what Indians tell you to do, they really hate people who beg like this. A temple official appears and apparently shouts at them to leave us alone, and they melt away.
Setting off down the road we reach the Teen Darwaza, one of the ancient
gates that used to pierce the city walls which have long been demolished. The wall and the gates were built by Ahmed Shah after he founded the city in 1411. This was in the era before the Mughals arrived in India in 1526, and before that time India was mainly divided into independent states ruled by Muslim sultans or Hindu maharajas. The gate is built of sandstone with intricately carved pillars. People are genuinely friendly, calling good morning and waving. Not many Europeans are seen wandering here, especially ones dressed as stylishly as we are.
Next stop is the Jama Masjid. After an unfortunate incident on an earlier Indian holiday when Sara’s sandals were stolen from outside a temple, we change from our walking boots into cheap flip flops out of sight, stuff the boots into the rucksack and then leave the flip flops outside the mosque as required. This is the largest mosque in town, and is built round a huge open courtyard, with pillared cloisters round three sides and the mosque prayer hall, also heavily pillared, on the fourth side. These medieval mosques in Gujarat seem to have been built without minarets. The muezzin is blasted out
from speakers on top of a metal frame or pole. We’re stopped by a large family party of Hindus who ask us to have our photos taken with them. We agree, not realising we will need to pose in at least a dozen different family groupings. Photos like this are common where white visitors are a rare sight and it happens repeatedly during the day.
Behind the mosque is the mausoleum of the founder of Ahmedabad, Ahmed Shah, which purportedly houses a medieval mosque. It is down a small squalid backstreet, with goats eating rotten vegetables and a woman doing her laundry on the pavement. There’s a strong and unpleasant smell, a real stinky pong. Women are not allowed to enter the tomb, so Sara fends off the unwelcome attentions of a deranged but harmless beggar while David has a cursory look inside. A tomb, draped in a green shroud with petals sprinkled on it, in rather dull space with a few devotees deep in contemplation. Sara doesn’t miss much.
Boots back on, we venture deeper into the heart of the old walled city. We pass the old Stock Exchange building, a fine edifice almost entirely hidden from
sight by a set of public toilets and a refuse collection point, and wander along narrow lanes lined with once grand houses now fallen into sad decay. There is a strong effort in hand to renovate at least some of these old buildings, two of which are run as small boutique hotels by the same family that runs our hotel. In some places the buildings on opposite sides of the street almost touch at their upper levels as they seem to lean outwards into the street. You half expect a chamber pot of wee to be poured from the upper windows, just as would have happened in medieval times.
Hidden away up another back alley is the tomb complex of Ahmed Shah’s queens, with the tombs (or cenotaphs) still covered in coloured shrouds that are renewed regularly. It is interesting that 600 years after they died these kings and queens are still the subject of such devotions. Time to walk back to the hotel for a much needed cup of tea. The shops are opening as it is past 10am and the streets are filling up. An enormously fat transvestite, heavily made up and in his/her gaily coloured dress,
reclines regally in the back of a handcart dragged along by a bent little old man. Whereto goes she? Who knows? And why isn’t she taking an autorickshaw like anyone else who doesn’t want to walk? This is India.....
After lunch, Mr Singh picks us up and takes us just outside the city to Sarkhej Roza. Grouped around a massive stepped tank – 16 acres in size, full of water in the monsoon but now just a huge grassy space – are the tombs of saints and rulers, a mosque and two royal palaces all dating back to the second half of the 15
th century. The site was founded by a Sufi saint and mystic who was the spiritual guide to Ahmed Shah. The entire site had fallen into total disuse and indeed had been forgotten, and its renovation only started in 2004. It’s free to enter and full of families eating elaborate hot picnic lunches, children playing ball games and men attending prayers at the mosque. We are the only non Indians. As well as the buildings, there is wildlife to see – a dozen or more eagles, two of which circled a tiny puppy threateningly for some
time before it fled! – and even a mongoose peeping out from a hole in the brickwork.
On the way back, we drive past a particularly odd sign: Tibetan Refugee Sweatar Bazaar.Judging by the illustrations, this is where sweaters that UK charity shops can’t sell end up.
Back in town, we finally visit the Sidi Sayeed mosque immediately opposite our hotel, which requires a life threatening trip across an exceptionally busy road to get there. It has two exquisite jhali screens, both carved from a single piece of stone, depicting the tree of life. Needless to say, “women not allowed” but apart from the jhali screens there is not much to say and we can take our photos from beyond the range of the grumpy man sitting in front of the jhalis.
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Keep Smiling
Mike Fossey
Temples and tombs
Ahmedabad seems to have lots of these. Fortunately, I find them interesting and, together with the people in and around them, great subjects for photography. Wildlife too, eh? Right up my street!