India Diaries: Middle India, In Search of Nothing

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Outer buildings and views

 

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We spent close to four hours exploring the fort complex. By the time we walked out, Orchha had transformed into complete mayhem, as if someone had shouted “release the festival” the moment we stepped inside. Scores of people were milling about, and an entire ecosystem of shops and eateries appeared in our absence. People and vehicles, despite road closures, competed for every available gap on the narrow roads, and occasionally invented new gaps through sheer optimism. Apparently there was a local festival today, which explained the chaos. Trust me to pick the one busy day in the whole year to visit Orchha.

Our driver advised that most of the other sites we wanted to see would be inaccessible thanks to road closures and traffic rules that only make sense once you’ve surrendered to them. So we made the best of it and visited a couple of places that were still reachable.

Lakshmi Narayan Temple

About a kilometre west of the Orchha fort complex, the Lakshmi Narayan Temple is one of the town’s most distinctive monuments. It was built by Bir Singh Deo around 1662, later fell into poor condition due to inadequate maintenance, and was reconstructed by Prithvi Singh in 1793. Architecturally it’s an interesting hybrid, with a temple form that carries fort-like elements, which feels very Orchha: devotion, but make it defensible.

Inside, the walls are covered with frescoes and paintings that blend Mughal and Bundela artistic styles. The murals illustrate scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata, turning the interior into a visual storybook.

 

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Chhatris of Orchha

We then had to walk a kilometer or so to our next stop, the chhatris of Orchha, due to more road closures.
In total there are 15 chhatris (cenotaphs) of Bundela kings and their families, located on the banks of the river Betwa.

 

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We then met up with our driver who, thanks to the road closures, took what I can only describe as an “interesting” route back to Jhansi. Think villages, narrow roads of variable commitment, and constant negotiations with animals and oncoming vehicles over who, exactly, was entitled to the remaining 30 centimetres of tarmac. Every few minutes something wandered into the road with the calm confidence of a creature that has never had to be anywhere by a certain time. It wasn’t so much a drive as a live demonstration of how traffic rules become optional once you leave the city.

Because we finished relatively early, I managed to book an earlier train to Gwalior. It wasn’t Vande Bharat, but it did offer the core service I ask of public transport: move me one hour down the track in the correct direction, preferably without philosophical detours. It delivered on that brief. No drama, no surprises, and only the usual background soundtrack of Indian rail travel: chai vendors, phone ringtones, and the gentle sense that you’re part of a large, moving organism.

In Gwalior, we checked into the Taj Usha Kiran Palace, my one proper splurge of the trip. The palace was built in 1902 as a guest residence for the Prince of Wales during his visit, and it sits right next to Jai Vilas Palace, the current royal residence of the Scindias.

After refreshing showers, we had a couple of drinks, dinner, and then called it a night. We turned in with the pleasant knowledge that tomorrow was the main event, the whole reason this trip was engineered, and the idea I’d been quietly carrying around since the planning stage.

 

[OZDUCK]

Thanks, I am really enjoying this TR. I have to admit that I am surprised at how few other people there seem to be at most of the historical forts etc that you have visited. Is it simply because there is a huge range of options to visit, few tourists in this area or a lack of interest by the local population in these sights?

 

[RB]

We left early to reach Orchha when it opened at 8 am, hoping to beat the crowds. I also hired an auto rickshaw instead of a car, partly because I suspected it would be able to get into places a car wouldn’t. This turned out to be correct, which was satisfying on two levels: practically, because it worked, and domestically, because I was right for once.



Interesting that you used an auto rickshaw. In 2023 this photo shows the exit we encountered as we exited the city. We thought Orchha was an excellent visit & realise that Magan our regular Indian guide/planner/driver has led us to many fantastic, lesser visited spots India 2023-Back to India-Camels, Mustard, Safaris and Living like a Maharaja. | Page 8 | Australian Frequent Flyer

 

[stm1sydney]

Very interesting trip report, thanks.
"Jhansi’s most famous heroine was Rani Lakshmibai"

To others: For a very entertaining read including lots about Rani Lakshimibai, have a read of the Flashman Papers #5.

 

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Thanks, I am really enjoying this TR. I have to admit that I am surprised at how few other people there seem to be at most of the historical forts etc that you have visited. Is it simply because there is a huge range of options to visit, few tourists in this area or a lack of interest by the local population in these sights?

It’s a combination of things
We try to early, to beat the crowds
Christmas and new year holidays just finished so not too busy
These places aren’t on the tourist trail so mostly locals visit

 

[OZDUCK]

It’s a combination of things
We try to early, to beat the crowds
Christmas and new year holidays just finished so not too busy
These places aren’t on the tourist trail so mostly locals visit

Thanks.

 

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Day 4 - Gwalior Fort

Gwalior Fort sits on a long basalt plateau above the city. The fortifications around the plateau are traditionally linked to Raja Sourya Sena, with the defensive circuit said to have been completed around 773 CE, and the site appears in old inscriptions under names like Gopachala and Gopagiri, “cowherds’ hill” in Sanskrit. Over the centuries it cycled through a who’s-who of North and Central Indian power, but its most decisive architectural makeover came under the Tomars (1398–1516), especially during the reign of Man Singh Tomar, when major palaces and additions turned the fort into a full royal city on a hill.

We reached early, around 7:30 am, and immediately discovered that the fort does not belong to tourists at that hour. It belongs to morning walkers, yoga practitioners, and cows on their morning strolls. We started the climb upwards against the flow of the early-morning exercise crowd in dense fog, which gave the whole approach a dramatic, cinematic effect, while also ensuring that clear photos were largely theoretical. The fog only began to lift around 11 am, when we were making our way down, at which point the fort finally revealed itself properly.

On the way up, you pass the 15th-century Jain rock-cut sculptures carved into the cliff face, immense figures emerging from the rock in a way that makes “carving” feel like an understatement. Midway through the climb there’s also a small, humble temple that many people simply walk past, despite signboards pointing it out. In a complex full of grandeur, it’s strangely easy to miss something quiet.










Chaturbhuj Temple

And then we reached the real target: the Chaturbhuj Temple, excavated into a rock face and dated to the early medieval period. It’s simple in style and modest in size, but it contains an inscription that made this entire trip inevitable. In that inscription, the circular symbol “0” appears as a true numeral, often cited as the earliest stone inscription in India that uses a round “zero” in a way we’d recognise today. The “0” shows up in the numbers themselves, in a very practical context: the inscription records details like garden dimensions and daily offerings, and the last digit in figures such as 270 and 50 is written as that unmistakable little circle. It’s fitting that zero enters the historical record not through drama, but tucked into an administrative note about measurements and garlands.

Zero is one of those ideas that looks small until you realise it quietly rewired civilisation. It makes place value work. It makes arithmetic scalable. It opens the door to algebra, calculus, and eventually the kind of computing that runs on strings of zeros and ones. The Indian numeral system and mathematical methods travelled westward largely through the Islamic world, and by the time Europe properly absorbed them, they became part of the toolkit that helped power later scientific and commercial leaps. I could go on, but I’ll save it for in-person conversations if anyone wants to accidentally start a history discussion at an AFF event.

Two links for anyone who wants to go down the rabbit hole:
Brahmagupta - Wikipedia
https://www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/sep/01/hidden-story-ancient-india-west-maths-astronomy-historians

One small complication: the inner sanctum that contains the inscription was locked. Not one to be deterred, I marched up to the office, found a responsible adult, and convinced them to come down and unlock it. And there it was: the gloriousness of finding nothing, preserved in stone, behind a door, in a fort, in a fog, at 7:30 in the morning. Perfect.








"270"

 

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Gwalior Fort Contd..

 

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Palaces and assorted buildings.

Inside the fort, Man Mandir Palace is the showpiece, built by Man Singh Tomar and famous for its scale and the bands of decorative tilework. The plan is functional and theatrical at the same time: courtyards, long corridors, and layered levels that make it feel less like a single building and more like a small city block.
Nearby are other structures that reflect later occupants and changing tastes, including buildings commonly known as Jahangir Mahal (also called Sher Mahal) and Shah Jahan Mahal, which add Mughal-era naming and attribution into an already crowded timeline. The fort museum ties many of these threads together, with galleries that provide context on the dynasties, the sculptures found in the neighbouring areas.

Museum







Man Mandir

 

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Other Buildings

There are a few more Mughal and British-era buildings on the fort that I’m grouping under “other.” Mainly because the fog didn’t allow me to take enough photos to confidently distinguish between them.

 

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Saas - Bahu Temples

The Saas Bahu temples are a pair of closely set shrines, famous for their dense stone carving and layered, almost lace-like ornamentation. Local tradition holds that they were commissioned by a queen and her daughter-in-law, which is how they acquired the name: saas (mother-in-law) and bahu (daughter-in-law).

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bahu temple






the fog starts to lift!!

 

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Tombs of Mohammad Ghaus & Tansen.

The tombs of Tansen and Mohammed Ghaus sit in the same walled enclosure in Gwalior, which feels appropriate: one was a musician whose name still carries weight in Hindustani classical tradition, the other an influential Sufi saint of the Shattari order whose circle reached into Mughal-era power.

Mohammed Ghaus’s tomb is the larger and more architecturally ambitious of the two. It’s a Mughal-period mausoleum built in sandstone, known for its intricate stone lattice work, carved panels.

Tansen’s tomb, by contrast, is modest. Tansen was one of Mughal emperor Akbar’s celebrated court musicians and a foundational figure in the story people tell about Hindustani music.

 

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Day 5

Our last day, and another early start. The plan was to visit a few sights about 50 km from Gwalior. Our pre-arranged driver was on time, and we set out for Bateshwar.

A quick logistics note: I used savaari.com to arrange cars for airport pickups and local drives. The cars were neat, the drivers were reliable, and everyone showed up on time. If anyone is looking for a car service in India, I’d definitely recommend them.

Bateshwar group of Temples

Bateshwar group of temples is one of those places that feels like it should come with ticket counters, barricades, and a souvenir shop the size of an airport terminal, and instead it mostly offers rocks, sandstone, and a slightly eerie silence. It’s a cluster of around 200 small temples spread over roughly 25 acres on sloping ground near Padavali, generally dated to the 8th to 10th centuries and associated with early Gurjara-Pratihara style temple building. What makes Bateshwar especially remarkable is that much of what you see today is the result of a major restoration effort. The site had fallen into ruin, and the Archaeological Survey of India began a large reconstruction project around 2005, reassembling dozens of shrines from scattered stone.

There’s also a local legend attached to its revival: that only one temple was still standing, and that a dacoit gang led by Nirbhay Singh Gujjar used to offer prayers there. Later, when the site came to wider attention, the story goes that Gujjar and his men helped support the restoration effort.

We reached well before opening time. There was no one around, the gates were closed but unlocked, and there was no entry fee. So we went in and started exploring in complete solitude, with only birds and peacocks for company. The first few minutes feel almost unreal because your brain expects crowds at anything this old and impressive. Instead you get wind, birdsong, and long lines of small shrines stepping down the slope like a stone village.

The setting is part of what makes Bateshwar special. The temples are scattered across uneven ground rather than arranged in one neat axis, so the experience becomes a slow wander from cluster to cluster. Some shrines are intact enough to feel complete, others look like they’re still mid-sentence, with broken door frames, missing shikharas, and carvings that have softened with time. You keep noticing repeating forms, the same basic temple vocabulary, but with small variations, like different artisans riffing on a shared template. It’s not one masterpiece, it’s a whole ecosystem of them.