Macho Afghans & dainty ladoos

When I checked into a hotel in Patna, I was laden with stories of gallant Afghans and the intrigue of the limestone steps refused to fade away in the chaos that is Patna. In the darkness of the night and the buzz of a cranky air-conditioner I was also riddled with choices - mysticism or gluttony. Which should come first? Mention Maner to a foodie and all he would talk of are the ladoos of Maner. I am not sure which ingredient of the ladoo so entices the gourmand but all of 29 kms I was being tempted with their taste.

In the Tate Gallery in London, an oil on canvas intrigues you. In the painting the sky seems to blush pink and drape the hills with dainty white and blue swirls. To offset the elegance of the pink sky is a brown dome - enormous, robust and arrogant. It is hemmed by a lake and two trees on the left add that pastoral stroke.

It is Sher Shah Suri's mausoleum in Sasaram painted by Thomas Daniell, who along with his nephew William trudged through the dusty terrains of Bihar for seven years (1786-93). Their aquatints were lauded by aficionados for "bringing scenes to our fireside, too distant to visit, and too singular to be imagined".

Between the Daniells and I, there fell 210 years, but - perhaps in breach of propriety - I envy the dead man. Not because he could daub his brush in pinks and paint a deft stroke, but because the Sasaram that he walked was prettier and the mausoleum more magnificent. Imagine the inspired design - a five-storied red sandstone octagonal mausoleum capped with a white dome concluding in a golden lotus. The dome was adorned with red, yellow, white and blue geometrical designs, its span of 22 metre exceeding that of the Taj Mahal by four metres. In the corners were pavilions with steps leading into a 430 sq.metre artificial lake. Alas! Now the colors have faded though you can see some traces of it on the parapets and battlements. The delicate jalis are the sole testimony to the famed exquisiteness that was born out of the imagination of Aliwal Khan, the architect.

Sasaram was a jagir of Hasan Sur Khan, an Afghan adventurer, and an important trading post. As I roamed on the streets of the now dusty and ordinary Sasaram I wondered if these were the same alleys that Hasan's son Sher Shah spent his childhood some 500 years ago. The Afghan conquistador kicked dust in the northern plains but it was in Sasaram that their bodies rest in peace.

Nearly 500 metres east of Sher Shah's tomb rests his father Hasan Sur Khan within a walled enclosure with gateways on its sides and domed turrets at the corners. Built in 1535, the tomb has lost its gloss and ruefully merges with the banality of Sasaram.

Just as much as I had heard about the Sher Shah's tomb, I was told that 39 kms away lie the remains of his fort in Rohtasgarh that sprawled over 28 miles and had 84 passages and 14 main entry gates. After a nearly two-hour drive, I reach the base of the hill that has a scary steep and 2,000 odd limestone steps that were probably meant for the cavalry. You can get breathless going up those rough-hewn staircase to reach the first gate that has a cupola. But the remains of the fort are still a mile away and you need to catch your breath before you can walk around the fort that once was a safe shelter for Sher Shah's family and treasures. Such was the reputation of this strong fort that during the course of history even Shah Jahan and Man Singh fretted to conquer it. According to legend, the fort was almost invincible, thanks to the streams that cut through the belly of the fort making the land fertile and self-sustainable, the dense jungles, the wild animals. To this list of natural sentinels, story tellers add the might of the dacoits who would not let in even a maverick farmer.

Stories of the fort get more interesting as they shift from gallantry and skew towards Afghan cuisine. While in Sasaram somebody had gleefully mentioned the kitchen at the fort for which Nur Jahan, the wife of the Mughal emperor Jehangir, who was in Rohtasgarh Fort for the birth of her third son, ordered 60 pounds of ambergris of the sea, 160 pounds of khus, 2,000 pods of musk, 2,000 bottles of the essence of Egyptian willow, essence of flowers, 10,000 bottles of rose water from Yazd and 4,000 pounds of saffron! But now only stories remain, you no longer sniff the rich flavour of such sumptuous food, but it says a lot about the importance of Rohtasgarh Fort.

The cab driver knew that I was looking for vignettes of Afghan rule and influence in Bihar. He also knew I was headed towards Patna for more and suggested a look at the mosque built by Sher Shah Suri in 1545. The Afghan king wanted to commemorate his reign and to mark this occasion he once again hired the services of Afghan architects to build a mosque in the typical Afghani style. Today, the mosque adds beauty to Patna and is often referred to as the one of the most beautiful mosques in Bihar.

When I checked into a hotel in Patna, I was laden with stories of gallant Afghans and the intrigue of the limestone steps refused to fade away in the chaos that is Patna. In the darkness of the night and the buzz of a cranky air-conditioner I was also riddled with choices - mysticism or gluttony. Which should come first? My itinerary had Maner written with a red marker. The drive: Barely 29 kms. But what about the choice? My information scrapbook listed Maner as one of the earliest centres of Sufism in Bihar; I also knew that the small town took its name from the 13th century Sufi saint Hazrat Makhdum Maneri. But mention Maner to a foodie and all he would talk of are the ladoos of Maner. I am not sure which ingredient of the ladoo so entices the gourmand but all of 29 kms I was being tempted with their taste.

As I hit Maner after a rugged ride, I shed irresolution - the saints would come first. Maner became a Sufi centre nearly 70 years before the Mughals conquered north India. It began with the arrival of Turks and of the three chief orders of Sufism in India, Firdausi's Sufism gained sway in Bihar. The Bari Dargah, which is a cenotaph of the Sufi Saint Maneri lies in a mosque to the east of a large tank, with masonry walls and ghats, pillared porticos, three domed mosques and a few quaint cloisters. Such was the benevolence of this Sufi site that even Sikandar Lodi and Emperor Babar paid visits. The Bari Dargah and Choti Dargah of Maneri's disciple Shah Daulat become crowded during the annual urs.

Maner, however, is not the only Sufi centre in Bihar. Biharsharif, some 13 kms from Nalanda is also an important pilgrimage centre for Muslims who travel miles to pay obeisance at the tombs of 13th century Sufi saint Mukhdoom Shah and Malik Ibrahim Baya. Biharsharif remained an Islamic cultural centre till the 16th century and Vaishali that lives on the fringes of Patna and celebrated for its Buddhist connection, also flourished as a Sufi centre.

Gallantry, gluttony and holiness can be a giddy mishmash, but they all fell my way during this visit to Bihar. It became all the more heady with a little dust and some breathtaking monuments and soulful mysticism that refuse to get rebuffed by the turmoil of small towns.

Published in India Today Travel Plus Anniversary issue, 2006