Culture and Heritage – Ankahi. Unsaid.

Tomb of Ibrahim Khan Lodi in Panipat

September 11, 2026September 11, 2026Posted in Art, Culture and Heritage, Heritage, photographyTagged history, mughal, 2026, Panipat, Lodi, Babar, TombLeave a comment

These weathered metal sculptures of medieval warriors and a large artillery carriage, supposedly celebrate Mughal victory over Sultan Lodi in the First Battle of Panipat, 1526.

In tatters, rusted and ill-maintained, today these sculptures are in a pathetic condition. The hands of two warriors are broken, while the turret of the artillery gun lies damaged on the ground; they look morose and tired. Maintained by the Municipal Corporation of Panipat (MCP, is their acronym), the park itself is unclean and in a sad condition. Considering the fact that this is the tomb of Ibrahim Lodi the last Sultan of Delhi, couldn’t it have been maintained better.

Ibrahim Lodi, the last ruler of his dynasty – a draconian king, rests here in the soil of Panipat. His open to sky tomb is on a double platform at a park in Tehsil Camp. The tomb, marked by a rectangular grave on a raised platform, was built using Lakhauri bricks. An inscription on a niche near the grave declares that it was repaired and restored by the British in 1867 AD.

There must be something special about the plains of Panipat that it saw three major battles – the First Battle of Panipat was fought on April 21, 1526, between last ruler of Delhi Sultanate Ibrahim Khan Lodi and the Mughal Zahir-ud-din Babur. Ibrahim Lodi, the was killed in this battle. Babur used his artillery to emerge as the victor.

The Second Battle of Panipat was fought on November 5, 1556, between Akbar (under Bairam Khan) and Hemu Vikramditya, the last Hindu emperor of Delhi during which an arrow struck Hemchander in the eye causing his army to retreat, following which Akbar won the battle.

The Third Battle of Panipat was fought on January 14, 1761, between the Marathas led by Sadashivrao Bhau and Ahmad Shah Abdali. The Marathas suffered a devastating defeat in this battle.

Though the sign outside the park says it is Protected Monument of National Importance, the fact remains that there was not one attendant in or around the Tomb. The main gate was locked and parked inside the gate was a garbage collecting cart beyond which was a big waste dump of leaves and other junk material. I wondered what is the purpose of the double level circular platform from which one couldn’t see more than 200 meters ahead. Groups of people were seen smoking and playing cards inside. Someone had left washed clothes to dry on the grass; food and leftovers were scattered in another corner while the entire grass patch was littered with cigarette butts, bidi stubs and empty matchboxes. A matchbox named after a leader lay there in dirt under an Ashoka plant.

From a distance it looked like any other children’s playground with plastic-ki slides and swings though partially broken and dirty. As usual it was ill-maintained, unkempt, with garbage and waste dumped around. But for the blue ASI sign you would miss the tomb easily. The main gate to the so called ‘monument’ is permanently locked which faces an open sewage drain that spreads the stink for meters ahead. In the narrow side lane cars and scooters are parked of the residential habitat touching it. The side gate to the tomb/park is designed for hurdle race practice that can only be cleared by athletic bodies – possibly keeping in mind the Lodis or the Mughals.

Sculptures of medieval warriors at Ibrahim Lodi’s tomb, Panipat

‘Mughal Sarai’ of Gharaunda

September 9, 2026September 9, 2026Posted in Art, Culture and Heritage, Heritage, history, photographyTagged 2026, asia, europe, Gharaunda, history, india, mughal, Panipat, Remains, Sarai, Travel, TurrentsLeave a comment

Gharaunda sounds like a dainty toyhouse or a dollhouse-like nest, offering the safety of a mother’s hug. I wonder who named this small town in Karnal district as Gharaunda—a town desperately trying to unhinge itself from its past and join the mainstream madness of our stunted cities. Located on NH44, the town is choking not only with dense habitation and heavy traffic but also with the petroleum fumes that permeate its air.

Nearly 400 years ago, the Tughlaqs, the Lodis, and then the Mughals cleared part of the dense jungle to create a road connecting Bengal to Afghanistan and from there to Uzbekistan, Iran and beyond. Along the road they built Kos Minars, piaos, and Sarais. While some of the Kos Minars still survive, most of the sarais have scummbed to time or illegal occupation.

One dazzling Sarai defied all and has stood tall through the centuries – in fact it looks as fresh as the day its three stories were constructed. It is one of the finest examples of decorative brick structures that have survived the test of time and the onsualght of expanding urban areas.

The ‘Mughal Sarai,’ as it is called, is a protected monument under the Archaeological Survey of India, though it is ill-maintained. A narrow lane leads to the vibrantly amazing structure; however, the front facade of which can’t be seen or photographed in totality because there is very little depth available. Crane your neck hard to see the tall circular turrets on each end of the gateway. The western portion of the Southern gateway, part of which has fallen apart, appears to be an Ebrahim Alkazi theatre set where a Mughal dastan is set to be played.

Built in 1637 AD by Feroz Khan during the reign of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, this quadrangular Sarai (rest house) naturally came to be named after the Mughals. The historic site of Gharaunda, where the Sarai stands, also served as a campsite for Babur prior to the First Battle of Panipat.

Today, two of these three-story gateways still stand within the area, positioned roughly 100 metres apart along the remains of the Northern and Southern walls. Constructed from traditional Lakhauri bricks, these structures feature an enclosed design with cells lining all four sides of the quadrangle. The surviving gateways are highly ornate, decorated with intricate panels, balconies, rounded towers, and angular flutes.

A must visit site if you are passing by Karnal or surrounding areas.

Suratgarh sojourn

June 21, 2026Posted in Culture and Heritage, Ma, Mommy, Mother, Of Family & FriendsTagged 2026, family, fiction, life, Love, Ma, Massi, memories, rajasthan, Sisters, Suratgarh, writingLeave a comment

Sisters share more than just the mother – they share memories, morsels and mirth. As sisters age together they share bodily pains and aches, develop identical creases on their faces and near-similar throbbing blue veins under wrinkled skins in which the biological code of generations is embedded. Well past their nineties, sisters start looking like identical twins with similar, puzzling faces. Their toothless smiles and groggy grunts sound so much alike that their own children can confuse one for the other. When they huddle together with faces covered, their own sons falter in picking the Mother from the Massi.

Only when I looked closely did I find that my massi had slightly broader nails on her long dainty fingers. Ma’s fingernails were naturally manicured into perfect rounded shapes, she rarely filed them, rounded the tips or even applied nail enamel. Earlier in life Ma would chew nails when anxious.

Having lost my mother six weeks ago, I am here in Suratgarh to see my Massi who is Ma’s immediate older sibling. Having been privy to their phone calls, thrice a day for over two decades, I can vouch that the attachment between two sisters who lived past ninety is a rare, beautiful masterpiece shaped by nearly a century of shared existence. Their connection transcends words, relying on a silent, comforting telepathy built over nine decades. They are living mirrors for one another, anchoring each other to reality and providing a unique comfort that nobody else can duplicate. Massi threw up her hands and cried for an hour upon seeing me. It was very difficult to control her and I wanted her to pour out the grief.

Ma and Massi shared a private universe of memories (from Jhang, Lahore, Rohtak and Patna), remembering the same childhood home, their parents, and the trials of the Partition era that we have only read about in history books. For years their bond provided an unmatched sense of emotional security, offering each other a safe harbour where they could be themselves: ‘Sisters Without Pretense’.

Meeting Sarla Massi was something I owed my mother and myself—a plan that couldn’t materialize because of Ma’s detriorating health. Meeting her favourite nephew (me), massi is at peace and I too feel at peace when I stand in front of Ma’s photo. ‘Ma, we met her, Sarla auntie is fine.’ In this poignant picture from the 50s, the sisters share a special moment with their Mom, my Nani, Chandravati. And the other picture is of Sarla auntie and her hands from a few days ago. This is the last piece of our Suratgarh sojourn.

Suratgarh desert sojourn

June 19, 2026Posted in Culture and Heritage, Heritage, photography, Treks. Travels. Outdoors.Tagged 2026, Archeologiy, Blacksmiths, camel, desert, Excavation, Gadiya, Kalibangan, Lohar, Nomads, rajasthan, Rangmahal, Suratgarh, WandrersLeave a comment

Far away from their barren sandy homeland, a group of wandering Gadiya Lohars (Blacksmiths) are surviving in this fierce desert carrying on with their traditional craft of making iron tools, utensils, and household items. Having given up their traditional wooden carts and the cattle, this hardy nomadic tribe has also abandoned their traditional costume and intricately carved silver jewellery, worn by both women and men. Near the archaeological site of Rangmahal, close to the Kalibangan Indus valley excavations, we spotted three families beating the hot metal in an unforgiving space that was scorching at 45 degrees at 12 noon. The only cover they had from the sun and heat was the shade created by their cots. Their carts are now adapted and fashioned from discarded tempo or truck metal bodies, pulled by cows that also provide milk. Parked in an empty space in this small village along the highway, these carts serve as homes, workplaces and life for the itinerants. Barely able to manage their lives Gadiya children are not admitted to schools because they lack a domicile certificate. <Suratgarh sojourn-Rangmahal-Kalibangan>

The Guardians of Dabwali on the Road to Suratgarh

June 15, 2026June 15, 2026Posted in Art, Culture and Heritage, Treks. Travels. Outdoors.Tagged adventure, Aunt, drive, india, nature, Pappu_Khatri, Rajastha, Travel, writingLeave a comment

Her name is Raksha Kaur. She stands firm, guarding her precious corner at the tri-junction of Haryana, Punjab, and Rajasthan along NH 54 in Dabwali. In a corner of her house, Raksha runs a tiny store selling ‘Maniyari’ items; maniyari roughly translates to cosmetics and jewellery for women. Face cream, powder, lipstick, plastic pearl strings, rings with colourful stones, ear tops and cheap plastic toys sit on a sagging cot. Across her house two large banyan trees, older than Raksha, stand guard over her brick house and provide much-needed shade in this near-desert land. As a light drizzle and a cool breeze make for a pleasant drive, we witness a quieter battle unfolding at this bustling cross-roads.

Here, Raksha’s son, Pappu Khatri, runs a rudimentary tea stall on a prime plot of land. It is a piece of history; Raksha’s husband bought these 500 yards back in 1955 for the then-princely sum of ninety rupees. Decades later, when the highway cut through their property, more than half of their house was acquired, leaving them with a meagre compensation of just 5,000 rupees. Now, the real-estate mafia eyes the remaining land – prime corner property on the highway. The mother and son are currently battling a court case built on fictitious claims designed to dislodge them. Armed only with meagre resources but boundless resilience, this feisty duo refuses to back down.

Leaving Dabwali behind, the countryside opens up into amazing vistas as the excellent highway stretches toward Hanumangarh and Suratgarh. We are heading to meet my ailing aunt, but our journey will also take us deep into the past at Kalibangan. This 4,000-year-old site was once a provincial capital of the Indus Valley Civilization, perched on the left bank of the now-dried-up Ghaggar River. Today, this seasonal, monsoon-fed river has changed its course, flowing 50 km further west along a firm bund that stretches from Himachal Pradesh before finally terminating in the sands of the Thar Desert.

Once summer gives way to the monsoon and a cooler breeze flows over this rugged land I will come back and spend a day or two with these people to learn more about their lives and write a story about them. Till then, take care, Raksha ji and Pappu Khatri. The tea was precisely to my taste, delicious – for which Pappu Khatri refused to take money.