Junagadh Fort Tombs
First trip to India, January 2015
At half past four in the morning in Junagadh it is dark and there is practically no one on the streets. Only huge cows wander the deserted streets, and dogs. We were staying not very far from the railway station, so we decided to take a walk. It felt so strange to walk along a quiet, empty street in India.
We found the hotel without any trouble. The hotel entrance was closed off with a grille and glass, behind which we could see the hotel manager sleeping right on the floor in the lobby. We knocked and shouted, and the manager woke up. He checked us in without any problems, for which special thanks to the Sapphire hotel.
The hotel rooms are located on the 4th floor of the building. The room itself turned out to be spacious, with a large window. The sheet was terribly dirty, so it was practically impossible to lie on it. After lamenting how Indians are not ashamed to lay out such sheets, we went to the hotel reception to ask for a clean one. The manager had already settled down to sleep in his place on the floor, but he understood our request for bedding and sent his assistant with us. Seeing where the clean sheets were kept, as soon as the assistant left we picked out another decent sheet to use as a blanket, clean pillowcases, and a towel. Clean, of course, is a relative concept in India. Everything was still stained — but at least it smelled of detergent. So they had washed it somehow, at least.
After laying out everything new and clean, we took a warm shower and went to sleep.
We woke up around 11. We really wanted coffee. We started looking for an immersion heater — there wasn’t one. I was terribly upset; for me, tea and coffee in the room are simply a lifesaver. Volchiy had read that small immersion heaters are practically nonexistent in India, and finding one is a great stroke of luck.
In such a lousy mood and on an empty stomach, we went for a walk around the city. Not far from our hotel, we sat down to drink Indian tea with biscuits.
Then Volchiy dragged me to one of the stalls, saying, “There definitely has to be an immersion heater here.” We showed the seller a picture, and he pulled out a huge heater for warming buckets of water. We need a smaller one — we showed him. The seller climbed onto a stool and went rummaging for a small immersion heater in the far reaches of the stall. Found it! Hooray! I couldn’t believe it — imagine, the very first stall, and we got an immersion heater. Things got cheerier.
We moved on, and according to the plan, the first sights in the city were two mausoleums. How surprised I was when two completely beautiful abandoned buildings opened before my eyes — the Vazir Mausoleum and the Mahabat Makbara Mausoleum. One was smaller, but with four twisting minarets. The other was larger, with many domes at different levels.
Both are amazingly beautiful, with carvings, arches, and windows like those of French cathedrals. On a rusted plaque it said that the mausoleums were built in 1892 and combine elements of European, Islamic, and Hindu architecture. First, of course, we climbed the narrow spiral staircase to the top of one of the minarets. I had never been in a minaret before; Volchiy suggested I never would again. Then we went to inspect the larger mausoleum. At the back we found an iron ladder, similar to a fire escape — it led to the second level of the mausoleum. We climbed up it, and there turned out to be three more such ladders. We climbed higher and higher. And here we are on the very last terrace, around the main, largest dome. From here there is a view of the mosque standing nearby and the slums. In the distance, a clock tower is visible. It takes your breath away, first because we unexpectedly found ourselves in such abandoned beauty, and second because I’ve been in all kinds of abandoned buildings already — but never in one like this! The mausoleum has been taken over by pigeons — there are plenty of them here. We didn’t go inside the mausoleum — everything is boarded up with iron grilles and locked with padlocks. After enjoying the beauty of the place, we moved on.
We peeked into the abandoned school nearby — a beautiful building. A pack of kids ran up to us there. For some reason, all Indians, young and old, ask what our names are. That’s usually the first question, and the second is where we’re from. Only a minority know Ukraine. Usually everyone asks in confusion, “Where is that?” Europe — that’s more understandable to Indians.
Next our path led to the fort. We walked through the streets of the old city. And we kept being amazed — almost every step revealed more and more beauty. Abandoned, semi-abandoned buildings in a half-Islamic, half-European style. Something like a Catholic cathedral with a bell tower.
Almost all the windows still had colorful stained glass. We stared around, turning our heads, unable to believe that it could be so beautiful. And the Indians, it seems, either are used to this beauty or simply do not appreciate it. All the buildings are in very poor condition.
Some are still in use. In one of these beautiful buildings we found a school. The teacher gladly allowed us to photograph the children. The children were reading textbooks, sitting right on the floor.
So, slowly making our way through the streets with their amazing buildings, we reached the entrance to the fort. Entry turned out to be free; we only wrote down our names and Ukraine in the visitor log. The guide offered his services, but very unobtrusively. He said he had seen all kinds of people, from Italy, from France — but had never met anyone from Ukraine before.
The fort was almost exactly like in my dreams. First we saw a large water reservoir and a small power station. And then we walked along the wall; all around there was silence, with only green parrots flying by with cries and eagles circling quietly. We even saw one up close — it was sitting proudly on the fort wall. And so we kept walking, and walking; from the walls there was a great view of the city, and of Mount Girnar with its temples, where we were to go the next day.
Then we reached the well with steps carved into the rock — it was an amazing sight. Evening was falling. We ate some corn. The only paid attraction in the fort is the three-story Buddhist caves, which we didn’t manage to visit — they had closed.
We also visited an old mosque; with its columns, it strongly reminded us of the one we had seen in Ahmedabad. In this little town, everyone was very surprised to see white tourists and really wanted to take photos with us.
The sun had already set below the horizon. We hurried to the exit.
We walked home along a colorful street where spices and all sorts of things were being sold.
We had dinner at a little restaurant near our hotel; they offered only one dish here — unlimited thali. It cost 120 rupees (30 UAH) per person. They bring you a large plate with small bowls filled with various vegetable dishes. There was stewed cabbage, spiced potatoes, and several other dishes of unknown origin — but almost everything was tasty. Different kinds of flatbreads are served with it. I ate a lot of my favorite butter rotis. Volchiy kept wondering how I could possibly fit so many of them in. Everything is constantly replenished. Eat as much as you can. There were also 5 kinds of cold appetizers — something like adjika, hot peppers, and so on. Besides the flatbreads, rice is also brought. But the flatbreads are much tastier, so we only had a symbolic amount of rice. Stuffed to the brim and once again thinking how unhealthy it is to overeat like this, we headed back to the hotel. We have to get up early tomorrow — Girnar Hill with its temples and 10,000 steps awaits us.
