As the morning sun rises over the silver-bellied storm clouds, a treasured trove of coastal landscapes and architectural marvels bears silent witness to centuries of history. With the Goan waters having seen centuries of transformation, its identity shaped itself over its natural environment housing structures developed in Indo-Portuguese and Vernacular styles. The Portuguese arrived in the early 16th century bringing with them Baroque and Manueline architectural styles ranging from churches, forts, and convents adorned with intricate facades and carvings to residences with open-air courtyards and arched openings.

As waves of sea whisper against the Konkan shores, let us dive into the world of religious heritage architecture, the Churches of Goa, which significantly influenced present-day Old Goa, previously known as Ella, which was the Portuguese capital post-occupation in 1730. The colonial era left an indelible impact on socio-cultural dynamics, urban landscapes, and building techniques within Goan society.

Amongst the many architectural marvels that dot these sceneries, we will focus on three churches that played a significant role in modeling the urban landscapes of Goa which are Basilica de Bom Jesus, Se Cathedral, and Church of Our Lady of the Mount. Each of these structures stands as a testament to unique architectural fusions, conceptualized through ambitious goals of the designers and skilled craftsmen who brought them to life. The weathered stones of each of these cathedrals’ walls have witnessed countless moments of prayers, celebrations, and solemnity.

The Basilica de Bom Jesus

Built between 1594 to 1605, the Basilica de Bom Jesus is the epitome of Renaissance Baroque and Portuguese Colonial architecture. One of the oldest churches in India, its weathered walls house the final resting place of St. Francis Xavier, founder of the Jesuits Missionary.

Representing resilience, grandeur and devotion, the ornate tomb was gifted by Grand Duke Cosimo III of Tuscany, consisting of a silver sarcophagus with inlaid marble of pietre dure style resonant of India’s Taj Mahal and Florence’s Cappella dei Principi, a masterpiece of Indo-Italian art. The façade features three sections divided by vertical pilasters with classical elements like floral motifs and Corinthian columns. As a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this basilica embodies its iconic legacy, continuing to be a source of pride for Goans while its preservation and restoration efforts highlight the importance of maintaining the essence of its cultural heritage.

The Se Cathedral

With its bells marking time for generations of the Goan populace, the Se Cathedral is one of the largest churches in Asia with an imposing Portuguese-Gothic structure. It was conceptualized to commemorate victory on St. Catherine’s feast day in 1510 marking the commencement of Portuguese rule in Goa. Featuring a Tuscan facade with Corinthian elements, the grand entrance and intricate carvings speak of a desire to create something everlasting and indelible.

The cathedral houses the Golden Bell, one of the largest bells in Goa. The design aimed to reflect the grandeur of the Portuguese Empire showing architectural and engineering prowess at the time.  The cathedral’s design showcases cultural exchange by integrating European and Indian artistic traditions. Designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site, the church remains an active place of worship, a pilgrimage site, and an educational resource to this day, where visitors can go back in the timeline to witness the evolution of Goan architectural styles.

Church of our Lady of the Mount

Built of Laterite Stone, the Church of Our Lady of the Mount was built between 1510 to 1519 by Afonso de Albuquerque, the governor of Goa. Perched on a hill with beautiful views of the Mandovi River and the surrounding area, the church blends Baroque and Mannerist styles.  Known for hosting the Monte Festival every year, the chapel has thick walls measuring 2.7 meters and has a façade inspired by Se Cathedral. It has undergone several restorations, the major one being in 2001. While being a spiritual solace, this chapel addresses the stories behind the intertwining of Goa’s sacred and secular landscapes.

Church of our Lady of the Mount

As the sun sets over the Goan Waters, casting shadows over the ancient stones of these architectural marvels, these structures continue to serve as bridges between past and present – where the East fused with the West with their everlasting stories continuing to shape the very urban and socio-cultural fabric of Goan identity.

Beyond being just UNESCO World Heritage sites, these churches keep stories of cultural exchanges, artistic ideas, and dreams alive. Every heritage structure in whichever shape they exist today, inspires us to create our unique legacy wherein future generations can learn further along the line. Heritage is not always about preservation; it’s about understanding ourselves and our capabilities to impart knowledge as mere mortals. Every restored wall, carving, and structure hosting annual festivals keeps cultural traditions alive in this fast-paced world.

References

Wikipedia. (2022). Basilica of Bom Jesus. [online] Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_Bom_Jesus.

Wikipedia Contributors (2023). Se Cathedral. [online] Wikipedia. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Se_Cathedral.

Wikipedia Contributors (2024). Chapel of Our Lady of the Mount. [online] Wikipedia. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chapel_of_Our_Lady_of_the_Mount.

Author’s note

Suchita Deva Stuthi

Suchita is an architect pursuing urban planning in Sydney with a wanderlust spirit. When not diving into city spaces, you’ll find me befriending local dogs or learning about design-related tech. Believing that great cities should work for every creature on this planet, I aim to create sustainable stories, one urban space at a time.

For me since childhood, Goddess Durga was a power symbol who scared me from all fours. It must have been because of her powerful look, aura, or the stories I heard. I remember seeing her standing victoriously on Mahishasur, and the various references that surrounded it whenever crimes against women took place, it felt like home and it felt that she was one force protecting us women and we could take her form. To realize much later that this divine form of Durga had origins that meant more than just being powerful. In a society where even standing up for themselves is a huge feat for women, the entire existence of Durga was a symbol of divine femininity that was there to shut mouths that restricted women. My particular interest in Durga stems from the fact that she is never shown beside a male deity, like all Sarasvati, Parvati, etc. who are mostly looked at as mere consorts. But the fact that Durga stood all alone on that pyre, killed the buffalo demon, and still wasn’t satisfied goes a long way for the believers in her eternal strength. Sometimes referred to as the goddess of war and strength, Durga brings great respite when feeling downtrodden, not just for women without support, but for everyone who draws strength from the fact that a goddess exists who did everything on her own, for the sole purpose of the protection of this land and stood bleeding among spectators who worship her for her effrontery.

According to Hindu mythology, Goddess Durga was created by the combined energies and divine powers of the trinity of Hindu gods: Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the preserver), and Shiva (the destroyer). The name Durga in Sanskrit means ‘a fort’, signifying a place difficult to penetrate or tame. This points to her nature as an unbeatable, invincible, and inimitable goddess who is never afraid. In most of her depictions, Durga appears riding a lion or a tiger. She has between eight and eighteen hands, with each one of them carrying a different weapon. Some depictions show Durga as a three-eyed goddess or Triyambake, in concordance with her consort, Shiva, signifying equal strength as a man. Each one of the eyes represents a different level. One reason why Durga is so celebrated is the fact that unlike other goddesses, who are feminine and gentle in their appearance and exude a sense of calm, she is seen as a menace, a threat to the forces of evil, and hence someone to be afraid of. The Navadurga are the nine epithets of Durga, also celebrated during Navratri and the auspicious Durga puja. They are different goddesses that derive from Durga, and that represent her in several stories/forms. There are nine deities in total, and each one of them has a separate celebration day in Hinduism. They are Skondamata, Kusumanda, Shailaputri, Kaalratri, Brahmacharini, Maha Gauri, Katyayani, Chandraghanta, and Siddhidatri.

Very apt to her role as guardian mother protector, Durga is multi-limbed so she is always ready to fight evil from all directions. Her bold pose is called Abhay Mudra, which symbolizes “freedom from fear.” Her left eye represents desire, symbolized by the moon; her right eye represents action, symbolized by the sun; and her middle eye stands for knowledge, symbolized by fire. 

Symbolical representation of Durga:

1. The conch shell iconizes the Pranava or the mystic word Om, which indicates her feeling the divine sound.
2. The bow and arrows represent energy. By holding the bow and arrows both in one hand, Durga establishes her control over both the potential and kinetic aspects of energy.
3. The thunderbolt signifies strength in conviction. Like a strong bolt of lightning, Durga teaches us to take on any challenge without fear.
4. The lotus in Durga’s hand, not yet fully bloomed, represents the certainty of success but not its finality. In Sanskrit, the lotus is called Pankaj, which means “borne of mud,” reminding us not to forget our real and spiritual roots in this material world of lust and other enchantments.
5. The Sudarshan-Chakra, which spins around the index finger of the Goddess, signifies that the entire world is submissive to the will of Durga and at her command. This is her way of saying that ‘right always rules’. 
6. The sword that Durga holds in one hand symbolizes knowledge, which has the sharpness of a sword. The sword is shining, telling that knowledge is free from all doubts.
7. The trident or Trishul is a symbol of three qualities: Satwa (inactivity), Rajas (activity), and Tamas (nonactivity). Durga uses these to alleviate physical, mental, and spiritual suffering.

The above observations tell us how Durga is the OG goddess of all times and also answer why Navratri and Durga puja stir positivity in the entire atmosphere, one of the reasons October is so loved as a month! The most well-known narrative featuring Goddess Durga is found in the text called the Devi Mahatmya, also known as the Durga Saptashati or Chandi Patha. This text is part of the Markandeya Purana and is dedicated to the glorification of the goddess and her victory against Mahishasura, it is a recommendation for the audience to read it once!

Author’s Note

Guncha Shandilya

She is a 19-year-old History student with a ceaseless love for ancient architecture, International relations, and Japanese literature. Through research and writing, she wishes to share her interests with students of her age and aims to be a diplomat in the future. Being a voiceover intern at ILF, she enjoys giving voice to our golden heritage and is on a constant quest for inspiration and projects! She is also a climate advocate and has worked with several international organizations in this regard. Writing is her survival sauce!

In the mystical realm of Sufi poetry, where words dance with divine love and verses echo through centuries, stands the towering figure of Bulleh Shah – a poet whose work continues to captivate hearts and minds across generations.

Picture this: In 18th-century Punjab, a young man born into a family of religious scholars makes an unconventional choice that would scandalize his community. This was Bulleh Shah, son of a struggling Paish Imam, who chose to become the disciple of Shah Inayat Qadiri – a spiritual guide from the Arain tribe, considered lower in the social hierarchy. This decision wasn’t just a rebellion; it was a declaration of love that would shape one of the most profound poetic legacies in Sufi literature.

What makes Bulleh Shah’s poetry resonate even today? Perhaps it’s the way he weaves complex spiritual truths into simple, heartfelt verses. His work in the Kafi form – a classical Sufi style of poetry – speaks of love, loss, and longing in ways that transcend religious and social boundaries.

Consider these powerful lines:

“Zeher vekh ke peeta te ki peeta, Ishq Soch ke keeta te ki keeta, Dil de ke dil layein di ass rakhi ve bulleya, Pyaar vi laalach naal keeta te ki keta”

(“What use is drinking poison by seeing, What use is love if done by thinking? After giving the heart, I kept the hope of getting the heart oh Bulleya! What use is love done with greed?”)

The profound influence of Bulleh Shah’s poetry in contemporary cinema is beautifully exemplified in “Ae Dil Hai Mushkil.” The film traces the story of Ayan, an aspiring musician searching for true love, whose unrequited feelings for Alizeh lead him into a state of melancholic creativity. The song “Bulleya” becomes his emotional outlet, with lyrics that cleverly invoke two great romantic figures – Ranjha, the legendary lover from Heer-Ranjha, and Bulleh Shah himself. When Ayan sings “Raanjhan de yaar Bulleya” (Friend of Ranjha, Bulleya!), the lyrics establish Bulleh Shah as a friend and savior of lovers. The song’s structure follows the classical Kafi form, with its characteristic repetitive patterns: “raanjhan de yaar bulleya, sun le pukaar bulleya, tu hi to yaar bulleya.” This repetition, alongside the profound yearning in lines like “Tu hi to yaar bulleya, murshid mera, murshid mera” (You are my friend Bulleya, my guide, my teacher), echoes the spiritual-romantic duality that characterized Bulleh Shah’s original works.

The song “Bulleya” from the film “Sultan” offers another contemporary interpretation of Bulleh Shah’s spiritual legacy. The song captures the essence of self-discovery and rebellion against societal norms – themes that were central to Bulleh Shah’s teachings. Drawing direct inspiration from the 18th-century poet’s philosophy, the lyrics express dedication and surrender to love that mirror Bulleh Shah’s devotion to his spiritual guide. The song’s protagonist declares, “Tu bole toh main ban jaaun, Main Bulleh Shah saudai, Main bhi naachun” (If you say, I shall become crazy like Bulleh Shah, I shall dance), referencing the famous story of Bulleh Shah’s complete surrender to his spiritual guide, for whom he was willing to dance wearing female attire. This modern interpretation preserves the core message of Bulleh Shah’s teachings – that true love requires complete submission and transcendence of social conventions.

These verses aren’t just poetry; they’re a spiritual manual for the heart, teaching us that true love – divine or human – cannot be calculated or measured. In today’s world of division and discord, Bulleh Shah’s message feels more relevant than ever. His poetry speaks to anyone who has ever loved, lost, questioned, or sought meaning. Whether it’s through traditional Sufi music or modern film soundtracks, his words continue to break barriers and build bridges. At its core, Bulleh Shah’s work embodies the essence of Sufi philosophy – the idea that love is the ultimate path to truth. His poetry isn’t just about the love between humans or even between humans and the divine; it’s about breaking down the barriers that prevent us from seeing the unity in all existence.

In an age where we’re increasingly divided by religion, class, and ideology, Bulleh Shah’s poetry offers a powerful alternative. His verses remind us that beneath our superficial differences lies a common humanity, bound together by love and the search for meaning.

As we trace his legacy across centuries, we find that Bulleh Shah wasn’t just a poet or a mystic – he was a revolutionary who used love as his weapon and poetry as his medium. His words continue to challenge, inspire, and transform, proving that true wisdom knows no boundaries of time or culture.

In the end, perhaps that’s Bulleh Shah’s greatest gift – the reminder that in a world of chaos and division, love remains the ultimate truth, and poetry is its most beautiful expression.

Author’s note:

Bianca Sood

A passionate storyteller, she channels life’s chaos into artful prose. When not weaving tales, she finds solace in nature and a love for painting. Writing is her haven, a bridge between the tangible and the imagined, where every word feels like a step closer to understanding herself and the world.

Growing up, the world of folklore was an integral part of my life, woven into the very fabric of my childhood. Every year, my grandparents would visit us during Diwali, and with them, they would bring stories as bright and enchanting as the festival lights themselves. After the excitement of bursting firecrackers and indulging in sweets, we would gather around them as they shared tales from the Ramayana. My dadi’s voice, filled with reverence and wisdom, would transport us to the mythical world of Rama, Sita, and Hanuman.

Each year, she would bring a new perspective to the stories. One year would be the tale of Hanuman’s undying devotion as he carried the mountain of herbs to save Lakshmana. Another time, she would tell us about Sita’s unwavering strength and resilience in adversity. I remember how she would pause and smile, her eyes twinkling as she recounted the naughty exploits of young Shri Krishna during Janmashtami. “You kids are no less, always up to something!” she’d say, and we would giggle, imagining Krishna stealing butter, much like how we sneaked sweets when no one was looking.

These stories were more than bedtime tales; they were lessons in righteousness, virtue, and staying true to one’s beliefs. They connected us to a distant yet familiar past, teaching us about courage, faith, and resilience—lessons that have stayed with me long after the stories faded into memory.

As I grew older, these narratives took on new forms. In school, we were introduced to the poem “Maharana Pratap ka Ghoda,” a tribute to Chetak, the loyal steed of the great Rajput king. I still remember the vivid descriptions of Chetak galloping on, even with a fatal wound, carrying his master to safety. It wasn’t just a poem; it was a story of unparalleled bravery and loyalty, values that were ingrained in us through these verses. Those lines painted vivid pictures of legendary battles fought on the rugged terrain of Rajasthan, of kings and their loyal companions who became immortal through such stories. It was my first taste of how folklore can shape our understanding of valor and sacrifice.

Festivals like Holi brought yet another layer to this colorful tapestry of stories. Every year, as we prepared for the festival of colors, my dadu would sit us down and recount the story of Prahlad and Holika. He would describe the fierce devotion of young Prahlad, who refused to abandon his faith in Lord Vishnu, even when his father tried to kill him. “Faith and goodness will always triumph over evil,” he would say, as we listened, wide-eyed and mesmerized. Later, as we played with colors, I would think of Prahlad and feel a little braver, a little more assured that good would always prevail, no matter how dark things seemed.

One of the most memorable experiences from my childhood was when my nani took me to see the Ram Leela. I must have been around ten or twelve years old. It was an all-night affair, and we were buzzing with excitement. We spent the day resting, our anticipation building as the sunset. By 9 PM, we were dressed in full-sleeved clothes to ward off the mosquitoes, Odomos smeared on our arms, and floor mats rolled up under our arms. That night, I was captivated as I sat under the starry sky, watching the actors perform on a makeshift stage.

It was the first time I saw a live performance of the Ramayana, and I was enthralled. I still recall the scene where Ravana was abducting Sita. But instead of the Pushpak Viman, the actor playing Ravana rode a bicycle. The audience erupted in laughter, and I remember giggling uncontrollably, even as I felt the moment’s tension. Then came the dramatic entrance of Jatayu, the vulture, who tried to stop Ravana. The actor playing Jatayu flapped his makeshift wings and stumbled, and the audience was in splits. It was a mix of reverence and hilarity that only a small-town Ram Leela could achieve, and it left an indelible mark on my memory.

Years later in 2010, I experienced something similar but in a more rural setting during Navratri. We had gone to our village, and the streets were lined with Jhankis, depicting scenes from the epics. Young boys and girls, no older than fifteen, were dressed as deities, sitting on chariots adorned with flowers and lights. One of them, dressed as Krishna, was busy pretending to eat butter, his face smeared with a white paste. Another, dressed as Hanuman, was enacting the scene where he rips open his chest to reveal the image of Rama and Sita in his heart. It was surreal, watching these kids embodying the gods with such innocence and dedication, while the villagers looked on in awe, whispering prayers under their breath. It was a different kind of magic, a reminder that these stories lived on, not just in books or memories, but in the hearts and imaginations of the people.

Not all stories were about gods and heroes. Sometimes, they delved into the supernatural and the eerie. My grandmother often recounted tales of spirits and possessions, stories that sent shivers down my spine. It was one thing to hear them from the comfort of our home, but witnessing it firsthand at Mehandipur Balaji was a completely different experience. I saw people possessed by spirits, their bodies writhing, and their voices changing during the aarti. It was both terrifying and fascinating, providing a glimpse into a world beyond the tangible, where faith and fear intertwined.

In recent years, folklore has gained renewed popularity in popular culture. Movies like “Stree” and its sequel “Stree 2” have brought these narratives to the big screen. Inspired by the legend of Nale Ba from Karnataka, the films tell the story of a spirit who would knock on doors at night, abducting anyone who opened them. To ward her off, people wrote “O Stree, kal aana” on their doors, asking her to come back the next day. It’s a chilling tale, one that perfectly blends horror and humor, much like the stories we grew up hearing. Watching these movies brought back memories of those nights spent listening to my grandmother’s stories, the thrill of the unknown mixed with the comfort of the familiar.

Indian folklore reflects the country’s diverse cultural landscape, providing insights into the values, beliefs, and everyday life of its people over thousands of years. These stories, legends, myths, and traditions form a rich and varied tapestry, deeply intertwined with India’s religious, social, and cultural fabric. Passed down orally for centuries, they have endured the test of time, evolving with each retelling while preserving their fundamental essence. They are not merely tales, but a way of life, a means to connect with our history, and a way to uphold our customs.

I want to pass down these stories to my children and grandchildren one day. Stories teach moral lessons and values, bridging the past and present. I want my children to feel the same excitement and wonder I felt and understand that they are part of something much larger.

“It is through these stories that we remember who we are, where we come from, and what we stand for. They connect us to our roots, to our grandparents, and to the countless generations that came before us. They are a reminder that no matter how modern or disconnected we become, the magic of folklore will always be there, whispering to us through the voices of our elders, waiting to be rediscovered, retold, and relived.”

Author’s note:

Saumya Sachan

She is a budding writer. Homesickness fuels her creativity, and when she is not immersed in the tech world, she finds joy in dancing and devouring books. She considers writing as her sanctuary, a means of reconnecting with the warmth of home, offering escape and catharsis in a world of words.

Deepavali or Diwali as we call it, is one of the most celebrated festivals across India. This festival of light symbolizes the triumph of light over darkness and good over evil. People from all age groups eagerly wait for the arrival of Diwali each year. In northern India, Diwali is commonly associated with the return of Lord Rama, his wife Sita, and his brother Lakshman to Ayodhya after defeating Ravana and completing their 14-year exile. It’s known that the residents of Ayodhya welcomed their King and Queen by lighting lamps to celebrate their return, making the tradition of lighting diyas(oil lamps).

In Southern India, Deepavali is more closely linked to the legend of Lord Krishna and his wife Satyabhama, who defeated the demon Narakasura. This victory symbolizes the eradication of evil forces and the arrival of prosperity and happiness. This legend is lesser known as compared to the more widely celebrated northern tale.

In South India, Deepavali is celebrated in very simple ways. No Tamil Deepavali is complete without the traditional early morning oil bath where the eldest member of the family or the lady of the household puts a few drops of sesame oil with a gentle massage on the heads of all family members before sunrise. Then a mix of herbs powders or shikakai is used to wash off the oil. This bath is considered as sacred as bathing in the river Ganges. According to mythology, Goddess Mahalaxmi is said to have hidden behind a sesame tree, which is why sesame oil is used for the oil bath. Symbolically, an oil bath implies new beginnings by removing egos, fights, self-esteem, and jealousy.

As a South Indian, Deepavali starts at the crack of dawn for me. All of our family members, wake up early and get ready for our oil bath. In Southern Kerala, we don’t just apply oil to our heads; we cover our entire bodies in sesame oil, believed to cleanse our bodies of toxins for the entire year until the next Deepavali. This tradition of sacred baths is passed down by generations making it customary for us. After the ritualistic oil bath, we put on new clothes signifying a new fresh start and shedding of past burdens. Then we move on to visit the temple to offer prayers and seek blessings from the deities. The temples will be very crowded as Deepavali is a very spiritual festival around there. The temples will be filled with the scent of incense and the sound of devotional hymns.

After the temple visit, we have our traditional veg thali or ‘sadhya’ as we call it. Now this Sadhya might not be as elaborate as it is for Onam. But essential dishes such as ‘sambar’, ‘Avial’ etc might not be excluded. The feast concludes with a delicious ‘payasam,’ making for a perfect ending. As the evening approaches, we then proceed to light up diyas around the house. These oil lamps with their warm glow set up a traditional atmosphere around our homes. Recently,there have been changes in replacing the oil lamps with candles instead due to less availability of oil lamps in our region.

As a South Indian who moved to North India for studies, experiencing Deepavali here has been a drastic change. In North India, Deepavali is a lively festival where people gather together and celebrate with vigor, whereas in South India, it’s more of a calm and peaceful festival within our homes. We try to calm our souls in South India, but North Indian Deepavali is all about enjoying triumph in all strengths and enthusiasm. I believe all South Indians living in North India could relate to this contrasting experience.

Although the legends and traditions of Deepavali differ across various regions of India, we all come together to celebrate the triumph of good over evil. Each region may have its unique customs, but the essence of the festival remains the same: the celebration of light over darkness.

References

https://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/life-style/diwali-in-south-india-dee pavali-oil-bath-ritual-6080571/

Author’s note

Sreya S Motti

A third-year student at the Cluster Innovation Centre, pursuing a BA (Hons) in Humanities and Social Sciences. She has a keen interest in Gender Studies and Cinematography, and she loves to travel.

Tracing different and varied histories, female deities have been a source of celebration and reverence in multifarious cultures. They stand for wealth, health, prosperity, and auspiciousness. These deities are seminal to cultures because they represent the different Shakti factions of the cosmos and remind the world of the importance of women in framing, forecasting, and foreboding the design of the world.

A unique facet of worshipping female deities is the fact that most people do it to showcase their particular veneration towards female figures who stand for ‘strength in femininity’ and this stems from worshipping various forms of the ‘one for all’ female goddess DEVI, who rules the world and in angry, sad, happy, fertile and isolated in various forms. The term Shakti refers to multiple ideas. Its most legitimate definition is the dynamic energy responsible for the universe’s creation, maintenance, and destruction. It is identified with female energy because Shakti is responsible for creation, as mothers are responsible for birth. Without Shakti, nothing in this universe would happen; she stimulates shiva, which is passive energy in the form of consciousness, to create. Ardhanarishvara, a Hindu deity half male and half female, is the most apt translation of this idea. The deity is half male and female, depicting that the cosmic universe’s creation, maintenance, and destruction depend on both forces.

Amidst all this flurry that categorizes goddesses, one special goddess celebrates the very idea and existence of womanhood, Maa shashthi of the diverse Bengali culture. Maa Shashthi is a lesser-known Hindu folk Goddess – but she remains a guardian angel for many households in Bengal. She is considered an avatar of Durga and is held in high esteem by women. The worship of Goddess Shashthi is a celebration of ‘Matri Shakti,’ or the power of womanhood and motherhood. ‘Shashthi’ means numeral six, this Goddess is worshipped every sixth day of the lunar calendar.

The vehicle of Goddess Shashthi is a black cat. The black cat, no matter how glossy and beautiful, is deemed an inauspicious omen across India and this superstitious belief is still prevalent in Bengal. The Shashthi Panchali that narrates the story of the Goddess transports us back to a village, many years ago, where a couple lived with their sons and daughters-in-law. Every time during puja, the youngest daughter-in-law would steal the fruits and blame it on the black cat. The prayers of the mother-in-law came true and soon the youngest daughter-in-law was expecting her first child. She gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. As the mother and child lay sleeping that night, the black cat stole the boy. The mother woke up to find her child gone. She spent her days in misery and after a year gave birth to another child. The cat stole even the second child. Next year, when she had another baby, the cat stole it again. After delivering seven sons in succession, the helpless woman decided to end her life.

Goddess Shashthi appeared to her and told her that it was a punishment for lying about her black cat. She returned all her children to the poor woman. Most women, no matter how much they dislike cats, will think twice before refusing food to them or daring to mess with a cat. Very few lack the guts to tread the path a cat has taken. Such is the fear of black cats in Bengal, and now I hope the audience is well versed with the century-old myth of the black cat and has equal veneration for Maa Shashthi.

The worship of this Mother Goddess – Shashthi Puja has a different name every month and serves a different purpose. ‘Shashthi’ is also derived from the word “shaat,” signifying blessings. All mothers keep a fast and pray to this deity for the well-being of their children. Interestingly, there are no images of the folk deity. She is usually represented by symbols such as the “ghat” or earthen pot, a stone under a sacred fig or “peepal” tree, or the millstone that is used to grind spices, being a folk deity, she is very popular with the local folk. Some villages have figurines in stone, depicting a very rough feminine form. To date, only two images of Mother Shashthi, dating back to the 12th century AD, have been found in erstwhile Bihar. Both show her as a goddess with a child on her lap mounted on a black cat looking up at her, having its significance.

Known as the Goddess of fertility, procreation, and protector of children, she is much feared and loved by all, a character distinct to only females. Adoration of the Goddess Shashthi starts with a woman getting married. Daily worship ensures that the woman remains fertile and bears as many children as possible. In the olden days, maternal and infant mortality was very high. Few women survived a successful delivery and few infants lived past the sixth-day milestone, so it was deemed important to worship shashthi. Every Bengali married woman prayed for divine intervention. The first five days of an infant’s life were considered the most crucial. On the sixth day, the new mother and her child were made to sit before the Goddess and offer their gratitude to the deity. This sixth-day worship is still considered mandatory in most households and termed ‘shuddhikaran’ or purification.

Author’s note-

Guncha Shandilya

Guncha is a 19-year-old History student with a ceaseless love for ancient architecture, International relations, and Japanese literature. Through research and writing, she wishes to share her interests with students of her age and aims to be a diplomat in the future. Being a voiceover intern at ILF, she is enjoying giving voice to our golden heritage and is on a constant quest for such inspiration and projects! She is also a climate advocate and has worked with several international organizations in this regard. Writing is her survival sauce!

Everyone is familiar with the formidable love story of Bajirao Mastani and how their romantic encounters still echo in the historical and unhistorical corners of Pune alike. Built in the 18th century by Bajirao I – who was the Peshwa or the prime minister to the Maratha ruler – Chhatrapati shahu. The original palace was planned to be a 7-storied stone palace but after the first floor was constructed, there was a hue and cry among people as it was believed that stone palaces were to be built only by the Chhatrapati, not his Peshwa. Due to this extreme public unrest, the rest of the construction of this palace was completed using bricks and wood. The palace stayed with the Peshwas for a long time before it was taken over by the East India Company. Shortly after that, a massive fire, engulfing the palace for over 7 days, razed the entire palace to dust and what surprisingly remains is the stone foundation of it.

The terrifying tale

It is believed that the ghost of Peshwa Narayan Rao roams along the abandoned passage of this palace following his gruesome murder because despite begging for mercy, no help came. The tale starts with Peshwa Narayan Rao having differences with his uncle Raghunath Rao and putting him under house arrest, because of his inheritance to the throne. When the young Narayan Rao inherited the title, the news was not well-ordained by all. A couple of these disappointed individuals were the ambitious Uncle Raghunath Rao and his wife. As soon as the news of his accession to the throne came out, they started to plot the murder of the 18-year-old Narayan Rao. What follows is a creepy murder plot not many would like to read about under complete senses.

“Narayanrao la dhara”. The message meant – “Hold Narayanrao” but before it reached the hunters, the message was changed to  – “Narayanrao la mara” by Raghunathrao’s wife – Anandibai. The message is now meant to kill Narayanrao. With the aid of the Gardis (a tribe of hunters), Raghunath Rao killed the young Peshwa chopped his body into small pieces, and discarded them in the nearby river. Given the poor state of the body, it could not be cremated and was submerged in the river. Because the Peshwa’s spirit wasn’t released properly, he roams around the palace shouting and screaming in low voices – “Kaka Mala Vacchva“.  Meaning “Please save me uncle” – a cry that was ignored by his uncle, when he helplessly ran to him for help.

Many locals still say that sometimes they hear the young Peshwa’s gruesome screams. Entry to the fort after 6:30 PM is strictly not allowed.

It is said that these voices can still be heard on full moon nights. Some have even reported ghost sightings. An inexplicable fire in 1828 broke out during the period the British controlled Shaniwar Wada. The fire razed on for 7 days continuously as talked about in the introduction to the article, destroying all the buildings within the complex. To date, this is the first time anyone has been able to find out how this fire started.

This fire is said to be the last of the five fires that happened in the 1800s. It was the most devastating of them all, leaving behind the cranky remains of the grand structure built and nurtured by the rich Peshwas. Another interesting fact about Shaniwar Wada is how the name came about. Shaniwar means Saturday and Wada refers to a fort or palace. The area around the fort is called Shaniwar Peth. Back in the Peshwas, the local market used to be put up in different wards (peths) on other days. Based on that, the various peths were named after the days and thus, came about Shaniwar Peth, put on Saturday. It was here that Baji Rao decided to build his home and since he laid the foundation stone and had his housewarming pooja on Saturday, the fort was named Shaniwar Wada.

A Glimpse into Maratha Grandeur 

The magnificent Shaniwar Wada fort has been constructed in the most charming Maratha-style architecture, it was initially constructed using stone but respecting, only the lowest level was made using that material. The rest of the complex was finished using bricks and wood. The teak wood for Shaniwar Wada came from Junnar forest while the stone was sourced from the quarries in Chinchwad. The limestone that was used to bind the materials was brought in from Jejuri. The Shaniwar Wada complex included five massive gates, nine bastions, and numerous palaces, much to the envy of enemies. The buildings were planned such that the front courtyard had all the administrative offices while the rear had the residential and entertainment palaces. However, walk around the walls and you will be able to spot some of the faded murals and remnants of the carved banana flower arches – that is typical of the Maratha Imperial architecture. It was back in 1736 when the fort was built and, at that time, it was one of the strongest and most formidable forts around. The residential fort complex saw many chapters of the Peshwas’ rich history where the stories were not only about the brave and influential administrators but also about gruesome deaths and falls and the rise of the Peshwas. One such story is of Narayan Rao. Sadly today, the Shaniwarwada is just another name for snippets of great architecture, remnants of lavish cultures, and most importantly, stories of family union.

Despite the chilling tales that shroud Shaniwar Wada, its architectural grandeur and historical significance remain undeniable. A testament to the Maratha empire’s power and ingenuity, this fortress is a treasure trove for history buffs and heritage seekers alike. Its construction, a monumental undertaking costing a staggering 161,100 Rupees in 1736, stands as a testament to the resilience and ambition of its creators.

References

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/travel/destinations/is-punes-shaniwar-wada-really-haunted/articleshow/92863946.cms

https://thrillingtravel.in/shaniwar-wada-haunted-story-pune.html

Author’s note :

Guncha Shandilya

Guncha is a 19 year old History student with a ceaseless love for ancient architecture, International relations and Japanese literature. Through research and writing, she wishes to share her interests with students of her age and aims to be a diplomat in the future. Being a voiceover intern at ILF, she is enjoying giving voice to our golden heritage and is on a constant quest for such inspiration and projects! She is also a climate advocate and has worked with a lot of international organisations in this regard. Writing is her survival sauce!

The tale of Mahiwal originated during the Soomra dynasty in the 18th century when the Mughals were still prevalent. Sohni, known for her beauty in the area, belonged to a family of potters named Tulla, who lived in present-day Gujarat, located on the banks of the Channa, which was then part of the Punjab province of Pakistan. Shahzada Izzat Baig, a rich trader from Uzbekistan, came from Bukhara with a caravan for trading purposes. Sohni often helped her father make and decorate clay pots, and one day, during Baig’s stay, he chanced upon seeing her in Tulla’s shop. Completely in awe at first sight, Baig began visiting the shop frequently, buying clay pots, sharing interests, and having deep conversations. This eventually led Sohni to fall in love with him.

As their love blossomed, it came time for Baig’s caravan to leave. Enchanted by Sohni, he decided to stay and live with his beloved. Eventually, he had to work as a servant at Tulla’s shop, having exhausted his wealth during his daily visits to Sohni. He became a buffalo grazer, earning the famous name “Mahiwal” (buffalo grazer). However, a Sindhi variation of the story suggests that Sohni belonged to the Jat tribe, and her love for Mehar blossomed when she gave him milk to drink as her marriage procession passed by the river.

As news of their romance spread, the local potter community grew angry, refusing to let Sohni marry an outsider and forcing her to marry someone from her community. After this turn of events, Baig renounced worldly desires and lived as a faqir in a small hut across the Channa from Sohni’s house. Despite these obstacles, the couple continued to meet at night, with Sohni using baked pots to cross the river and Mahiwal bringing fish he caught each day. Some versions of the folklore suggest that one night, when Mahiwal couldn’t catch any fish, he baked a piece of his thigh. When Sohni took her first bite, she realized, through tears, what Mahiwal had done to keep her from going hungry.

As time passed, Sohni’s sister-in-law discovered the nightly meetings and replaced Sohni’s baked pot with an unbaked one. That night, while crossing the Channa, Sohni realized halfway that her pot was unbaked and would not hold.

“Paar chanaan de disse kulli yaar di Ghariya ghariya aa ve ghariya”

“Yaar noon milegi ajj laash yaar di Ghariya ghariya aa ve ghariya”

The song “Paar Channa De” explores Sohni’s conversation with the ghariya (earthen pot) as she tries to cross the river, pleading for it to hold on, as her lover’s hut lies just across the Channa. If it doesn’t, her beloved will be greeted by her lifeless body. Mahiwal, seeing her struggle, tries to save her, but he is unable to due to the pain from the wound on his thigh. Ultimately, Sohni drowns, and Mahiwal, devastated, jumps into the river, taking his own life. According to legend, Sohni’s tomb is located in Shahdadpur, Sindh.

The themes of love, tragedy, and sacrifice have inspired several poets, with the most renowned version of the tale penned by the Punjabi Sufi poet Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. The story challenges traditional portrayals of heroes and heroines, depicting Sohni as a strong-willed, independent woman who defies patriarchal norms, while Mahiwal is portrayed as vulnerable, driven by deep love. This tension between traditional values and changing societal norms reflects the evolving values of Sindh.

Set against the backdrop of medieval society, the story also highlights the rigid class divisions based on caste, religion, and social status. The river, a crucial element in the tale, symbolizes the deep connection between waterways and the land in Sindh. The society of the time was also deeply rooted in Sufism, and the story carries a spiritual symbolism—without a true guide on the path to enlightenment, one will drown in worldly distress.

In conclusion, while fate dealt a cruel hand, the story of Sohni and Mahiwal transcends the boundaries of time and culture, continuing to resonate with people across generations. It serves as a timeless reminder of the enduring power of love.

Author’s Note:

Bhavya Singh

Bhavya has diverse interests, ranging from exploring the psychology behind everyday choices to believing in the magical power of words. She enjoys examining the interplay between culture and thought. A lover of movies and storytelling, Bhavya views writing as a powerful tool to transform perspectives and bring dreams to life. Her passion for traveling deepens her understanding of different cultures, which she strives to weave into her storytelling. Through her writing, Bhavya aims to capture the richness of human experiences, uncovering stories that inspire, connect, and resonate with people on a meaningful level.

India is home to myriads of castes and tribes, with their distinct religion, languages, customs, rituals, and traditions, making India a diverse treasure trove of different cultures. Each of these groups has its folklore and legends which add a unique tint to India’s rich cultural tapestry.

Folklore is a collective term that refers to the traditions and cultural expressions of a particular community or group of people, passed down over several generations. It can be categorized into three main aspects – verbal folklore (songs, ballads, proverbs, rhyme), customary folklore (rituals and customs practiced by a specific group), and material culture (folk art, architecture, traditional handicrafts, artifacts). Legends differ from folklore in the sense that the former are semi-historical. Legends are based on historical facts (with the addition of a few fictional details) and revolve around the narrative of a popular figure, event, or place. Both legends and folktales play a significant role in preserving the social and cultural values of a bygone era and often teach moral lessons to the present and future generations.

Folktales like the Panchatantra, Hitopadesha stories, or Jataka tales have been popular in the subcontinent since ancient times. Even before these stories were written down, they were transmitted orally, mostly by bards, who traveled from one village to another, narrating these tales. Apart from national folk heroes, such as Lord Krishna, local folklores often revolve around the cult of a local or folk (or tribal) deity. In Bengal, one of how much folklore and local legends manifested themselves was in the form of Mangalkavyas (“poems of benediction”). The Manasamangal and Sitalamangal are two examples of Mangalkavyas dedicated to the folk goddesses – Manasa devi and Sitala devi respectively.

The Story of Manasa Devi

Among the non-Aryan female deities who found acceptance in the Brahmanical Hindu pantheon, the Goddess of Snakes – Manasa Devi is arguably the most powerful and revered. Despite being the daughter of Lord Shiva, she was not readily accepted as a goddess since her birth was unintentional. She also did not share a cordial relationship with her stepmother Goddess Bhagavati or Parvati, and therefore, decided to reside on earth. Her legend begins with the narrative of an affluent merchant named Chand Sadagar. She tried to influence him to worship her but being an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva, he refused to accept the goddess’s authority.

In a fit of rage, the goddess sunk his merchant ships at sea. His seven sons also died of snake bite, however, he remained firm in his decision to not accept her suzerainty. Behula, the wife of Lakshindar, Chand’s youngest son, was adamant about bringing her husband back to life. She set out on a tumultuous journey with her husband’s dead body and underwent severe hardships. Behula’s sincere devotion succeeded in pleasing the goddess, who also agreed to bring Lakhindar back to life on the condition that Chand Sadagar would worship her. Eventually, he had to give in but turned his face away from the goddess’s image and offered her a flower with his left hand. The goddess restored Chand’s fortunes and thereafter, the cult of Goddess Manasa came to be established in the society.

This legend is more than a tale of Chand Sadagar’s pride and the vengeance of the fierce goddess – it can be termed as a sociological drama that effectively depicts the clash for supremacy between Brahmanical Hinduism and the local, non-Aryan cults that were going on in the contemporary era. Chand Sadagar represents the upper-class Hindu patriarch who worshipped Lord Shiva, a Vedic god, and his patriarchal arrogance is reflected in his rejection of the admittance of a tribal deity in mainstream Hinduism dominated by the Brahmans (priests). However, the goddess’s ultimate acceptance in Sanskritised Hinduism portrays the popularity of her cult. The goddess’s selection of Chand Sadagar as her first worshipper is also symbolic of the growing power and prosperity of the merchant class; if an influential and opulent merchant worshipped a folk deity it would be easier for her to be accepted by the common masses who would emulate the upper-class figure (perhaps to gain social mobility). The tension in the relationship between Goddess Bhagavati and Goddess Manasa also portrays the societal conditions of that age and the bitterness in the relationship between a stepmother and her step-children.

The Legend of Sitala Devi

Another popular (but minor) Mangalkavya is the Sitalamangal which revolves around the legend of the folk deity Sitala – the goddess of smallpox, who also bestows fortune and looks after the welfare of children. Her origin traces its roots back to Vajrayana Buddhism but she later became a deity of Hinduism. The Savara caste of South Bengal initially worshiped Goddess Sitala but her cult gradually expanded and came to be popularised in both villages and cities.

As the goddess was born from cooled ashes, she is cool by nature and constantly seeks coolness. If she gets heated she also heats others and destroys their children or attacks them with the dreaded pox. One of the legends of the goddess narrates a story of how a farmer’s son and a king’s son were suffering from pox but the farmer being a devotee of Goddess Sitala, maintained cleanliness in his house and served cold food to his son, who was cured quickly. Meanwhile, the king’s son was served hot and spicy food every day and as a result, his condition got worse. On hearing of the recovery of the farmer’s son, the king wondered why the goddess had been so unfair to his family. One night the goddess appeared in his dream and advised him not to eat any cooked and spicy food and offer cold food to her and his son. He had this dream on the seventh of Chaitra’s Krishna paksha (dark half) and ordered everyone to worship Goddess Sitala on the eighth day with cold food offerings. The prince’s condition also improved and he was completely cured after a while.

This story highlights the cultural practices and religious beliefs of the society at the time of its composition. Goddess Sitala has been portrayed as both a protector and punisher, which again is symbolic of the ambivalence of nature which can either create or destroy. Through this legend, the practice of eating cold food during the hot season has been taught among the common people to prevent the chances of getting attacked by pox. This narrative also reflects how the worship of local deities was a deeply intertwined practice in the daily lives of the community, and that the spread of epidemic diseases was associated with divine will. However, the people not only sought blessings from deities for health, prosperity, and protection from diseases but also followed a scientific method of taking care of the patients, which would allow them to heal faster.

Therefore, it is evident that Mangalkavyas not only narrates the stories of the process of integration of tribal or folk deities into Sankritised Brahmanical Hinduism but also mirrors the social conditions of the age they were composed in.

Reference

https://www.momentslog.com/culture/indian-folklore-myths-tales-and-regional-legends#the-orighttps://people.howstuffworks.com/what-is-folklore.htm.

https://rupkatha.com/the-sitala-saga/.

https://www.indianetzone.com/manasa_hindu_goddess_snakes.

https://storyarcadia.com/the-significance-of-legends-preserving-cultural-heritage-and-moral-lessons/.

Author’s note:

Deepasree Dey

She is a dedicated postgraduate student specializing in History (Hons.) at Presidency University, Kolkata. From a young age, she has been captivated by the fascinating narratives of India’s history. She is particularly interested in exploring the diverse cultural traditions of India, including the rich tapestry of folklore and legends found in various communities. Through her role at India Lost and Found (ILF), Deepasree aspires to contribute to the preservation of India’s cultural heritage while uncovering and sharing the many untold stories that enrich the nation’s identity.

Between the years 1526 and 1857, the Mughals were the ones who defined the subcontinent, gave it shape, and instilled a character that at present still churns around us and is visible to our senses. You can still see the vestiges of the Empire through its monuments in all its once-glory (the Taj Mahal as one of them, of all the wonders), you can still hear their folklores and tales in history (their ways of administrating themselves and all the Namas the rulers had commissioned for themselves); you can still taste their rich flavors (from Niharis and Biryanis to using nuts and dried fruits), and you can also touch their walls, their artifacts, their scrolls and other remnants of their past that still levy itself into the present and the future. But what about the sense of smell? Can you smell the Mughal Empire? Can you access your olfactory regions and catch a whiff of their rich cultures, histories, and values? Is the subcontinent still laced with the scent of the Mughals and their traditions? If one puts their noses right in the right places, they might chance upon a version of Mughal history which can only be accessed through the olfactory nature of being. This smell in the nose marks a different substitute for how we witness history in the present — marking it as more of a history of the Mughal scents of India. 

In accessing these Mughal scents, this article travels through the use of smell as a sensory regime explores the Empire’s marks on the subcontinent, and reaches the Mughal Gardens itself. In the time of the Mughal reign, they were built by several rulers who all descended from Babur, where the style in which they were constructed often denoted a strive for pleasure and symbolized the sensory nature of their reign’s power and glory itself. For the Mughals, the gardens represented an earthly paradise where nature combined perfectly with human beings – creating a serene utopic balance.

The Scented Fingerprints of Mughal Rulers:

Bagh, baug, bageecha, or bagicha — the Mughals built many of them surrounding important buildings including their ruling places. Largely influenced by the concept of vatikas present in abundant myths of ancient India, which also means wooded ‘pleasure’ gardens, the gardens were filled with aromas of various kinds of flowers and herbs. This included in large quantities flowers like roses (gulab), the Indian lotus (kamal), jasmine (chameli/motia), lilies (Suraj Mukhi), marigold (genda), and herbs like mint (pudina), basil (tulsi), fenugreek (methi), rosemary, saffron (Kesari) among many others. They all contributed to the sensory richness of the Mughal Empire which came to depict status and power, all in the pleasure of churning a pastime. Indeed, it was an imperial pastime as tending to the gardens itself was extremely challenging if not very time-consuming where even though Jahangir as a ruler was known for his love of flowers, he did not build a garden of his own as such but still helped lay out the beautiful Shalimar Garden which still surrounds the northeast part of Dal Lake in Srinagar.

It was Babur who started this escapade of the scent-driven tradition of gardens, and who built gardens in areas like Lahore and Dholpur including the largest recorded garden, Gol Bagh which was filled with greenery up until the time of India’s Independence. It is noted that Babur, who began the Empire in its foundation, borrowed this very idea of a pleasure garden from the Timurid gardens in Central Asia which were an Islamic type of gardens in medieval times. Succeeding him and Humayun, Akbar built several of them too, in places like Delhi and Agra where the latter became his capital of residence and rule itself. 

Shah Jahan, the one behind the beauty of the Taj Mahal, had a distinct fascination with greenery and flowers. So much so, that besides the Taj Mahal which serves as a visual pleasure for the power of love — he also built the night garden (of many gardens) surrounding it called Mahtab Bagh. Filled with flowers that bloomed at night like jasmine, it sits across the Yamuna River at Agra. The pale flowers of the Bagh combined with the structural white beauty of the Taj become a large visual and olfactory delight to the visitors and tourists, even at night as it glows under the moonlight. The Mughal Emperors also chose these locations for their gardens carefully. The idea was to contribute to the expansive natural beauty — mountain slopes, high open green spots, and a natural water system that gushed out into the garden were the top priorities.

The Olfactory Legacy of Charbagh : 

These gardens served not only as a sensory ride of the smell but also helped symbolize the glory and power of the Empire. The gardens were laid out in the style of the Charbagh which was an Islamic style influenced by the Persian Gardens including the Timurid. Charbagh essentially meant a rectilinear layout with wall enclosures that were well-equipped with flowers and herbs. Between these boxes of layouts, a well-established water system flowed with features like pools, fountains, and canals, all inside the gardens’ walls. The gardens were also perfectly aligned, with a highly disciplined geometrical sense that added to its allurement. Administratively, they all enclosed significant places for the Empire denoting prestige and grandeur for the rulers and kings. From imperial palaces to public buildings, sacred structures to private buildings, they all were enclosed between the Mughal Gardens.

Moreover, the water system was an incredible fleet for the time that the Empire was in power: where it featured a highly developed irrigation channel that helped maintain the balance of nature and natural elements. This system also went on to hugely contribute to the Indian economy even in present times, where large gardens and green lands are equipped with the same water routes and channels, paying allegiance to the Mughals themselves. These water routes, which were inspired by the Persian and Timurid Gardens, worked as the central and connecting attributes for the gardens. The hydraulic system worked efficiently due to the structural integrity and beauty of Charbagh, which when divided into four quadrants comprised of water channels and pathways maintaining the greens, the flowers, and the herbs. The fountains, namely the Salsabil and Uyun, enclosed in these quadrants also represented the ‘life cycle’ for the Mughals as it symbolized time pouring into rains and onto the greens themselves. It is said that Shalimar Bagh alone had 450 fountains that poured the same rains but in a floral effect — the Mughals did love floral and artistic shenanigans when it came to their gardens. 

Fragrant Heavens: Mughal Gardens Today

For us mind-boggling, nose-smelling, scent-driven sensory chasers, at present, there are several ways we can catch the whiff of the Empire and relish an olfactory history of the Mughals and Mughal period. In India while there is a handful of them in the north, some surrounding the Humayun’s Tomb in Nizamuddin Delhi, multiple in the Taj Mahal in Agra, and even the famous Ram Bagh in Agra which is also rumored to be the first Charbagh and Shalimar Gardens in Kashmir among most others. Many gardens still can be found in Pakistan and Afghanistan, open to tourists and laid in flowers — all to reveal a whiff of the cultural and traditional history of the Mughals. In a way, history then is among us everywhere at any given moment. The point becomes how to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell it — the latter which as one witnesses in the case of Mughal Gardens is through the smell of its flowers and herbs which all convey the many scents of India itself. 

PS. Here’s a fun fact for the readers who might just be preparing their noses for an olfactory adventure of Mughal history. The Mughal Gardens in Delhi which were consciously renamed the Amrit Udyan and which hold a yearly welcome to people to witness the flowers and herbs in bloom — isn’t necessarily so Mughal as it is very British. Yes! The Mughals had nothing to do with those gardens. It was much later after their time that they were designed by Sir Edward Lutyens, the British architect responsible for constructing and designing much of New Delhi. So, while the Mughals weren’t the ones who put to commissioned the gardens, the British designed them in praise and inspired] them — churning a wheel of history from tradition to the present itself.

References:

Dickie, James (1985). “The Mughal Garden”. In Grabar, Oleg (ed.). Muqarnas: An Annual on Islamic Art and Architecture. Vol. 3. Leiden: E. J. Brill. ISBN 9004076115.

Crowe, Sylvia (2006). The gardens of Mughul India: a history and a guide. Jay Kay Book Shop. ISBN 978-8-187-22109-8.

Lehrman, Jonas Benzion (1980). Earthly paradise: garden and courtyard in Islam. University of California Press. ISBN 0-520-04363-4.

(2010). “Mughal Gardens in Kashmir”. https://whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/5580/#:~:text=The%20celebrated%20Mughal%20gardens%20of,of%20the%20traditional%20paradise%20gardens. 

Behera, Sonali (2022). “All About Mughal Gardens: History, Key Features, and Types”. In Krishi Jargan. https://krishijagran.com/agripedia/all-about-mughal-gardening-history-key-features-and-types/

Author’s note:

Charvi Bhatnagar

Charvi is a researcher in the humanities and loves connecting dots between stories, people, and their impressions of the world. While a typical day for her includes a lot of books and Word documents, she believes there’s always a gripping story hidden behind plain old facts. One could easily find her obsessing over trivia, solving random logical reasoning quizzes, and experimenting with poetry and the written word.