Business Traveller (Asia-Pacific)
Derek Picot and Jeff Mills
Orchha’s origins date to the early 1500s when, on a hunting trip through forests of silk-cotton and flame-of-theforest trees, Maharajah Rudra Pratap paused at a picturesque turn of the Betwa River. What began as a military camp became the capital of Bundelkhand, a knot of feudal kingdoms ruled by the Bundela clans.
Today, Orchha is a small, one-street town surrounded by farmland and forest. Its historic heart lies on an island created by the braiding of the Betwa. Strolling across an arched bridge I reach a massive wooden gate bristling with rusty elephant-defying spikes and climb steps towards a courtyard and trio of palaces. To my right soars the Raj Mahal while ahead looms the Jahangir Mahal.
Topped with parapets and domed pavilions, the 16th-century, five-storey Raj Mahal was the first major palace built by Orchha’s royals. Relatively plain on the outside, its numerous dark rooms and breezy apartments range around two deep courtyards. Elegant audience halls – once the seat of local government – retain ceiling murals of royal processions, hunting and geometric motifs.
ROYAL CONNECTIONS
The jewel in Orchha’s crown is the Jahangir Mahal. Built by Vir Singh Deo in the early 1600s to honour the visiting Moghul Emperor Jahangir, it’s an exotic, well-proportioned edifice with tapering bastions and elongated hanging balconies topped with pavilions and cupolas. For all their wealth and power, the Bundelas were subservient to their Moghul overlords and Vir Singh sought to pay an extravagant compliment to them.
From the main quadrangle I climb narrow stairs through a succession of terraces with more airy rooms and chambers. Frescoes and mosaics – whose turquoise and lapis came from Afghanistan – once adorned its creamy domes, parapets and walls; now few traces remain. Jahangir’s compact apartment, with its sleeping dais and carved lattice screens, faced west, towards Mecca. The emperor stayed here just once and allegedly the palace was rarely occupied again.
Settling down in a lofty pavilion I survey the view. Orchha’s town is dominated by the Chaturbhuj, the original royal temple with four storeys of ogee arches topped by conical towers. Its vaulted interior is reminiscent of a church and for a fee you can usually reach its upper levels. Down by the river, the Bundela royalty are immortalised with a row of imposing straw-coloured chhatris (domed pavilions) containing memorials to them – particularly picturesque when fired by the first rays of dawn. Local bathers often cluster near here, too, soaping their limbs and pounding laundry on the smooth rocks.
Less obvious yet utterly tranquil are the peaceful, half-forgotten crumbling stables, mansions and temples of the island, all within sight of the palaces. Some have been colonised by villagers, whose lush plots of lentils and mustard add to the picturesque scene. Strolling along a warren of paths and tracks, I find myself up among the farthest ramparts of the town, gazing down at the surging Betwa. A handful of whitewater rafters float by cheering, their contentment echoing mine.
The jewel in Orchha’s crown is the exotic Jahangir Mahal