Day Two

27th June 2009 - Saturday

We spent the evening sitting on the steps of Barah Kaman, watching the colours of the sky change. There was nothing else to do in those two hours preceding sunset. A recap of yesterday’s sights did not appeal anymore. All because, they couldn’t match up to the grandeur and magnificence of the two monuments we visited today.

The day started early, at 6:30 AM, in an effort to beat the usual crowd at the Gol Gumbaz. The monument is housed inside a large garden, thanks to the wholesome efforts of the Archaeological Survey of India. Early morning walkers were aplenty. The lady at the ticket gate seemed to be asleep, and we had to holler a couple of times to get her attention. Entry fee was only 5 rupees (for Indian nationals. For foreigners, it is around 20 dollars!), but we were incensed on being asked to pay an additional 25 rupees each for using a “digital camera” – of course, all those guys who use their mobile phone cameras do not need to pay anything.

The flat and somewhat ugly Archaeological Survey Museum blocks the full view of the Gumbaz from the gates. The Bible said the museum was “missable” and we faithfully followed its word. A small archway behind the building leads to the monument. Through the arch, one can spot an enormous doorway in the distance – the entrance into the Gol Gumbaz. As you step through the doorway, the monstrous structure towering over you takes your breath away. A huge façade with three arches reach up to the heavens. On either side, rise up octagonal towers seven tiers high. And on top, rests the massive dome – the largest in India.

The guard at the door stopped us saying bags are not allowed! No one told us about that, and we confessed the same to him. After a seemingly endless tirade against the guys manning the ticket gate, he let us in with our bags. We stepped though one of those doorframe-like contraptions (popularly termed as “metal detectors”) that never beep regardless of whatever things you carry with you.

The Gol Gumbaz is the mausoleum of Mohammad Adil Shah, and being a “resting place” if you expect it to be quiet, you’re grossly mistaken. The first thing that assaults you as you enter the square chamber is the noise. The massive hollow dome of the Gumbaz magnifies even the smallest whisper by more than 10 times. Above the mausoleum lies the “Whispering Gallery” and people are always testing out the phenomenon by shrieking and screaming at their fullest. It felt as if we were in a B-grade horror movie or in a Nirja Guleri serial.

The climb up to the dome leads through the minarets and is tiring with huge stone steps winding through claustrophobic passages. But the view from the top is fantastic. The city stretched out on all sides. A strong wind kept tugging at us. True to its fame, the Whispering Gallery was indeed a miraculous experience. Thankfully the screaming jokers had disappeared and we had the place almost to ourselves. I tried some shots of the place and was amazed at the echo. The soft pop of the flash and the click of the shutter reverberated through the dome. We sat down. As time passed, I felt increasingly sleepy inside that dark chamber. Something seemed to have come over SS also. He was blabbering all the time about Sherlock Holmes, The Hitchhiker’s Guide and James Bond.

Nevertheless, we sang our Harem Globetrotters’ anthem inside that dome!

After coming out of the gallery, I sat there on the upper deck gazing out at the city, as SS got busy clicking his 2014th, 2015th and 2016th shot of the adjacent minaret. Walking past, an employee of the ASI looked at me curiously.

Him: “Where are you guys from?”

We: “Bengaluru”

Him (pointing at me and smiling): “You look like the actor Ravichandran!”

Huh???

It is sad that many of us know Bijapur only for the Gol Gumbaz! For, at the other end of the city lies the immensely beautiful Ibrahim Rauza. During the afternoon, there was hardly anybody at that place. In many ways it reminded me of Hampi and Rajasthan, An elaborate green lawn with yellowish-green hedges adorned the tomb. Lush green coconut trees abutted the compound, providing a cool breeze all the time. The mosque on the right hand side had beautiful patterns adorning its walls. In front of it was what would have been a fountain, and facing the mosque across it, stood the immensely beautiful and richly carved mausoleum of Ibrahim Adil Shah. It reminded me of the Sheesh Mahal in the Amber Fort. The place would have been more beautiful if only it had been restored and maintained properly.

We spend three hours just gawking at it and clicking photos. As time passed, more people started coming in. Soon, children were running around the courtyard. At the door of the old mosque, I sat down to write. A couple of tourists got curious and came over to watch. “He’s an author. He writes books and takes photos!” SS made up a story. The guys said they were from a nearby village named “Halli”. SS couldn’t believe that (‘Halli’ itself means ‘village’ in Kannada). Soon he started relating about our travels to them. One of them even started pouring through The Bible.

By the time we left the place, the crowd was well in. We were no longer the only tourists in Bijapur – a fact that would hurt us later.

And…do not drink tea from that bajji place I suggested yesterday. Just be happy eating the bajjis.

To be concluded…