I visited Orchha, the legendary town in Madhya Pradesh’s Bundelkhand region, in October 2024. Orchha — a “hidden place” is a UNESCO World Heritage City established by King Rudra Pratap Singh in the 15th century. However, it was conquered by Akbar of the Mughal Empire. Jahangir eventually offered Orchha to Vir Singh Bundela in the 16th century as a sign of loyalty. Orchha prospered under the Bundela dynasty, with its distinctive Indo-Muslim architectural style monuments emerging from the Rajput kingdom’s cultural merger during the Mughal period. Silhouettes of temples and cenotaphs rising from the dense woods are reminiscent of Angkor Wat, Cambodia.
“Orchha in Quintets” is a collection of photographs and prose poems; it elaborates on a small town’s quaint architecture and culture. I portray antiquated scapes of Orchha through the inner scapes of a woman, who attempts to connect the digital rendition of India’s heritage and visceral experience of the same. I interpret India’s hinterland rush, influenced by Bollywood, religion and street food. The piece aims to enliven Orchha through various senses. The prose poems will appeal to those who wish to comprehend heritage as visual narratives; not designed by the proficient eyes of a photographer but the aesthetics of an ordinary traveller; one who recreates the past in words, images and introspection.
Jahangir Mahal
I climb the steep rhymes of Jahangir Mahal — peep through filigreed windows —
thick, moist noon, spreads across Orchha’s infinity.
A couple shoots a wedding teaser — drone-flamboyance
subdues the glamour of ageless thrones.
Yet nothing is ‘now’— we are trinkets of oxidised arguments.
Rani Mahal
Orchha, the “hidden place”—
dark hum of honey-swathed walls
blend Bundela roar with Mughal might —
paintings, murals, choric songs —
starry lehengas — swirl, dance, pray — men, women seize joylight.
Orchha Fort Complex
Temple-woods embalm Bundelkhand’s pearl light.
‘Ondo chhe’— a basin of stone grandeur —
landscapes, myths, ballads, folk arts.
Eternity’s town — we loop in tukuks; diesel breaths blacken
copper air of a quiet town.
Chaturbhuj Temple
I shudder — meteor-eyed deity of Chaturbhuj temple summons me —
I renounce pride, arrogance, money — hoping
for holy whispers.
Instead, I hear hinterland-hungama — pulsating boys churn Bollywood beats —
“kajra re, kajra re, tere kaare, kaare naina.”
Chhatris, Betwa River Bank, Orchha
Radiance of buried dreams stir regal-haze —
Chhatris — half-closed umbrellas — mounted cenotaphs
embraced by domes, leap from granny’s lore-bag —
I see children float on the mythic Vetravati —
break the limits of illusion and vanity.
Brass Gods
Two sadhus surround me — ancient, wrinkled —
ravenous for Bundelkhand’s samosa and sweets.
They eat with a rodent’s swiftness —
bless me abundantly and vanish into the autumn sun —
diminishing hunger to tales of disbelief.
Cenotaphs of Orchha
I have seen sceptred futures in gilded dreams —
crumbling crests buzzing with the cacophony of parakeets.
Waning kings, their eternal reflections float on crucial waters.
A Sadhu, unbothered, sings —
“hare rama, hare krishna.”
Cenotaphs of Orchha
Dreadlocked heads
metamorphose into cones of antique cenotaphs —
rust-yellow courtyards liberate fear.
Histories rise — I see them unwrap vaporous veils.
Forest-wombs of Orchha sing ravine-ragas, opening gates of gold.
Rani Laxmi Bai’s Palace, Jhansi
Temple-towns of Hampi
awaken in Orchha.
Antique deities — bodies embrace primal-tongues —
the harmony of carnal musings on curved stones.
Eyes, down! I clean my mess — meditation — observation.
Betwa River Bank, Orchha
Sun-glazed songs lift feathers of mist—
matter reveals spirit— shadows of Angkor Wat.
Vedic chants ignite the soil.
Elemental fire engulfs the earth —
from Orchha to Cambodia.
A regal symbol in Orchha
I sleep by the banks of Vetravati.
In moon-rinsed dark— Equus-headed Kings arrive.
Rocks turn into elephants — witnessing innovation —
blueprints of temples, tombs, gardens and fort-ways —
inception of a splendorous living.
Cenotaphs of Orchha
Mandalas mould Orchha’s mahals —
squares rise from squares — circles from circles.
Gardens — Peepal, Neem, Banyan spread kindness
of the skies on earth-eaten souls.
Pilgrims recline — surrender pride to canopies of emerald-divine.
Poet’s Betwa, Orchha
Valour hoists a swirl of emblems.
I watch stone-lit conoids pierce the forest air.
I sip tea — turn leaves of time by gentle Betwa.
Think of the woman in me —
Is she the lapwing, kingfisher? or the river’s rippling water-hymn?
