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ABSTRACT
In the forested countryside of Gwalior lie the vestiges of a little-known amphitheatre (akhārā) attributed to Raja Mansingh Tomar (r. 1488–1518). A bastioned rampart encloses the once-vibrant dance arena: a circular stage in the centre, surrounded by orchestral platforms and an elevated viewing gallery. This purpose-built performance space is a unique monumentalized instance of widely-prevalent courtly gatherings, featuring interpretive dance accompanied by music. What makes it most intriguing is the architectural play between inside|outside, between the performance stage and the wilderness landscape. Why then did it make sense to situate a ‘fortified’ amphitheatre amidst forested hills, away from the city? And where does this cultural arena stand in relation to the pressing political concerns of the day, anchored in the very same landscape? This paper examines the performative structure of Mansingh’s akhārā and argues that performance – as evening entertainment, hunting sport and military campaign – occupied a crucial place in Gwalior’s resilience throughout the fifteenth century and its changing perceptions from an infidel’s jungle refuge (mawās) to the axis of a culturally-refined region (sudeśa).
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to Heidi Pauwels and Eva De Clercq who provided the opportunity to present versions of this paper at the University of Washington in September 2017 and at the European Conference on South Asian Studies in July 2018. Thanks also to Nalini Delvoye for the many musicological references, and to Barry Flood, Dipti Khera, Francesca Orsini, and Michael Willis for their insightful comments and encouragement at various stages of the research.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
Correction Statement
This article has been republished with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.
Notes
1. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 29–39. There is some confusion whether Mansingh’s reign started in 1486 or in 1488, though from Persian sources it appears that he was already paying tribute as the ruler of Gwalior before Sultan Bahlol Lodi’s death at Mitaoli in 894/1488. See the extended discussion by Gauri, Gvāliyar kā rājnaitik evaṁ sāṅskṛtik itihās, 105–30.
2. As in the Samarāṅgaṇa-sūtradhāra of Bhoja, on which see Salvini, “Themes and Contexts,” 35–55.
3. Raghavan, Sanskrit Drama, 117.
4. These include the Sitabenga and Jogimara caves of the 3rd century BCE., Rani Gumpha of the 2nd century BCE, and Nagarjunakonda amphitheatre 4th-5th century CE. See Varadpande, History of Indian Theatre, 207–67; and Dhar, “Theatre Architecture,” 78–82.
5. See for example Willis, Archaeology of Hindu Ritual, which presents an innovative reconstruction of royal rituals linked to the fifth-century sacred site of Udayagiri in central India.
6. The key Persian chronicles are Sirhindi’s Tārīkh-i Mubārakshāhī (Delhi, 1434), Bihāmad Khānī’s Tārīkh-i Muḥammadī (Kalpi, 1438), ‘Ali b. Maḥmud al-Kermāni’s Ma’āthir-i Mahṃudshāhi (Malwa, 1467–68), Niẓāmuddīn Ahṃad’s Tạbaqat̄-i-Akbarī (Delhi, 1592–93) and the Firishta’s Gulshan-i Ibrāhīmī (Bijapur, 1609–10). Following established templates, these narratives tell us of campaigns mounted by successive Sultans to coerce the rebellious rajas into submission, but who invariably retreat into their forts at which the armies can only lay waste to the territory before marching on.
7. Abu’l Fazl’s Ā’in-i Akbarī of 1595 and Faqirullah’s Tarjuma-i Mānakutūhala of 1670.
8. Dvivedi, Gvāliyar ke Tomar; and Gauri, Gvāliyar kā rājnaitik evaṁ sānskritik itihās.
9. Orsini and Sheikh (eds.), After Timur Left.
10. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” writes that it was first reported in 1908 and cites from Luard and Sheopuri, Gwalior State Gazetteer without page number: ‘There is an old theatre known as Ras-Lilaghar with traces of ruined rooms built round a circular open ground lined at intervals with lamp posts surmounted with small cupolas, resembling in style the cupolas of Man Mandir.’ I have been unable to trace this reference in the 1908 Gazetteer, but the same is reproduced verbatim in the 1965 Gazetteer, see Krishnan ed., Gwalior, 357–8.
11. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch”; and “Gvāliyarī dhrupad aur uskā raṅgamaṅc.”
12. As deduced by Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 32.
13. In the recent rebuilding, four low platforms were added to the existing structure, altering the original scheme as documented in the photograph and plan published by Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch.”
14. Burton-Page, “The Tower in Islamic Architecture,” 1221–4.
15. Ibid., 1222.
16. See Shokoohy, “The Chatrī in Indian Architecture,” 129–50.
17. See Tillotson, The Rajput Palaces, 56–62.
18. Characteristic features include rubble walls, plastered and whitewashed, with sandstone columns, doorjambs, and arches, and minimal surface ornament. For a concise survey, see Burton-Page, “Hind, vii. Architecture,” 440–8.
19. This practice is well known from the palace of Mughal Emperor Akbar at Fatehpur Sikri, where the imperial entrance was also called Elephant Gate ('Hathiya Pol') in emulation of Gwalior, and has a chamber used for sounding the ceremonial drums (naqqār khāna) (Asher, Architecture of Mughal India, 58). Sounding military instruments, like stationing ‘an elephant at the entrance of one’s own residence’, was a royal privilege common to Indic and Persianate honorific vocabularies, one that was awarded but also frequently usurped. See also Nizami, Royalty in Medieval India, 54.
20. Texts on theatre architecture frequently refer to the adornment of theatres with wall paintings. See Raghavan, Sanskrit Drama, 123–5.
21. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 34. Chunks of the chūnam floor are visible in Dvivedi’s photograph.
22. Kuiper, “The worship of the ‘jarjara’,” 241–68.
23. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 32. The pillar lies broken on the northern side within the open enclosure.
24. Raghavan, Sanskrit Drama, 126.
25. Dehejia, Yogini Cult and Temples, 121–4.
26. Willis, “Architecture in Central India,” 28, Figure 20.
27. The Mitaoli inscriptions have been transcribed in Singh, “Riddle of the Circular Temple,” 79–4.
28. For example, the following verse: kreṅkāraḥ smarakārmukasya sukhakrīḍāpikīnāṃ ravo jhaṅkāro ratimañjarīmadhulihāṃ līlācakorīdhvaniḥ/ tanvyāḥ kañculikāpasāraṇabhujākṣepaskhalatkaṅkaṇakvāṇaḥ prema tanotu vo navavayolāsyāya veṇusvanaḥ// May the twang of Kāma’s bow, the clamour of female cuckoos in joyful sport, the buzzing of bees in the bouquet of love, the sound of partridge at play, the jingling of bangles of a slender girl as she moves her arms to prevent her bodice from being opened, the sound of flute that accompanies youthful dance, develop your love. A transcription is provided by Singh, “Riddle of the Circular Temple,” 87–8, but the absence of diacritics makes it nearly impossible to decipher.
29. Singh, “Riddle of the Circular Temple,” 90. This record awaits proper publication.
30. The foundation inscription of 1093 records the appointment of a contingent of musicians and dancers for regular ritual performances. Temples also hosted plays, for prologues of dramas frequently refer to their own performance at festivals of specific deities, but recent research shows that these were probably held in the courtyard and not in the raṅgamaṇḍapas, which would have presented practical problems for both actors and spectators. See Leclère, “Performance of Sanskrit Theatre,” 50.
31. Willis, Inscriptions of Gopakṣetra, citing three inscriptions from the Sās Bahū temples, dated saṃvat 1522 (1464 CE), 1540 (1483 CE) and 1547 (1490-91 CE).
32. Chakravarty, Gwalior Fort, 35.
33. Garde, Annual Administration Report, 1938–9, 6–7; and Patil, Quinquennial Administration Report, 1942–6, 5–6. The date is based on the abjad interpretation of a Persian inscription in coloured tilework at the entrance of Gujari Mahal, as argued by Gauri, Gvāliyar kā Rājnaitik evaṁ Sānskritik itihās, 109.
34. The text was composed in Classical Hindi and caupai metre for a member of the Tomar family, Kṛṣṇasāha, when he had received the title of ‘rājā of Gwalior’ around 1630 not long after Mughal emperor Shah Jahan’s coronation (Dvivedi ed., Gopācalākhyāna, 27). It was part of a broader emergence of Classical Hindi historical writing at Rajput courts that projected a vision of local sovereignty within the Mughal imperium (Busch, Poetry of Kings, 88–89).
35. Khargarāy’s use of naī rasarīti here is probably in keeping with seventeenth-century theorizations of Hindi rīti poets who sought to adapt ‘older Sanskrit practices, particularly courtly genres, to the vernacular literary culture of their own day’, as discussed by Busch, Poetry of Kings, 10, 33–38, 171–89.
36. Gopācalākhyāna ed. Dvivedi, 85–86 (no verse numbers are given in the published edition): rāi ahēraiṁ ūpar prīti, khelaiṁ bhūp naī rasarīti/ parbat ghāṭī bāṁdhī jahāṁ, khelē bhūp aheraiṁ tahāṁ// ḍāṁg badhāī mahal ju bhaye, tihaṭhāṁ bhūp akhārai ṭhaē/ kosakos kī bāṁgur bhaī, rēsam pāṭ phadā aruṭhai// sūvar siṁh aheraiṁ caū, karai na aur jīu par ghāu/ bāj kuhī sikarā nahiṁ gahai, aṭh paṁchin kau kou na bahai// jalacar paṁchini hatai na koī, saritā sarabar purain hoī/ rājā ko satadharm subhau, cāri mās barasai surarāu// [… .] cārau jāti triyan kī kahīṁ, te sab mān akhāraiṁ rahīṁ/ dvaisai nāri padmini isī, tini samān nahīṁ urabasī//.
37. Note, for example, the use of the words ḍāṁg meaning ‘a jungle at the crest of a mountain’ and bāṁgur meaning ‘snare, trap’, which are distinguished as deśī, ‘vernacular’ in the Brajabhāṣā sūra-kośa (Gupta and Tandon, 714 and 1210).
38. See Luard, Gwalior State Gazetteer, 11–3 for an account of the flora and fauna of the Gwalior District.
39. A list of hunting lodges (shikārgāh) in the Gwalior State used by the Scindia rulers in the 19th-20th century can be found in The Motorists’ Road Guide, 71–9.
40. The word belongs to the local parlance of Gwalior, according to Hunter, Imperial Gazetteer of India, 227.
41. The embankments are clearly shown in the topographic Survey of India, Madhya Pradesh, 54J/ 4. H.N. Dvivedi had access to the local land revenue records, where he found this low-lying land classified as a ‘tank’ (‘Mansingh’s Racch’, 33).
42. Locally known as gaḍhi, the fort has reinforced defences for mounting heavy artillery and an old well at its centre that still holds water, see Mishra, Gvāliyar evaṃ Datiyā Jile, 43–4. In their present form, the fort’s defence and residential structures date to eighteenth-century rebuilding campaigns when the region was contested between the Gohad Jats, Marathas and the British. But there is reason to believe that these came up under the Tomars in the fifteenth-century, because this period witnessed a wider militarization of the Gwalior landscape, through a circuit of hinterland fortalices that were built within striking distance of the Gwalior Fort, to defend it against siege by rival sultanates of Kalpi, Malwa, Jaunpur, and, most famously, of the Delhi Sultan, Sikandar Lodi. The phenomenon is attested by an inscription dated 911 H. (1505) that records the construction of a fort named Iskandarabad in Pawaya by the governor of Sultan Sikandar Lodi (Saxena, “Some Moslem Inscriptions“, 52–53). The full history of these military strategies has been studied in detail by Brigadier Mishra, Forts and Fortresses of Gwalior, 11, 140–2.
43. McGregor, Oxford Hindi-English Dictionary, 12 gives the standard Hindi meaning of akhāṛā as wrestling ground, on which see Alter, The Wrestler’s Body, 2–3; and Clark, “Akhāṛās: Warrior Ascetics,” 11–8. The word appears in the same sense as the vernacular equivalent of Sanskrit akṣavāṭa in Hemacandra’s 12th-century dictionary (Abhidhānacintāmaṇī, cited in Deva, Śabda-kalpadruma, vol. 1, 6) and features as the arena where Bhīma and Jarāsandha fight each other (Bhīmaparākrama, cited in Warder, Indian Kāvya Literature, 130). Instructions for constructing a square wrestling arena called akkhāḍakaṃ, with a pavilion for its patron deity Krishna, are given in the Mānasollāsa, a Sanskrit mirror-for-princes compiled in 1130 for the Chaulukya King Someśvara III (ed. Shrigondekar, vol. II, 236–237, vv. 967–973).
44. Gupta and Tandon, Brajabhāṣā sūra-kośa, vol. 1, 17. However, it is worth noting that both usages are found in Viṣṇudās’ Pāṇḍavacarit (1435), a vernacular adaptation of the Mahābhārata, where akhārā refers to a wrestling ground in the Ādiparva 3.160 (ed. Dvivedi, 35) and to a dance arena in the Virāṭaparva 3.78 (ed. Dvivedi, 123).
45. Silhadi’s Tomar background is discussed by Kolff, Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy, 88–9.
46. Nārāyaṇadās, 89, v. 726: pātar hakārāvai sulitānā, dīyō akhārē kau phurimānā/ nāda mṛdanga kalā parabīnā, nācahiñ catur premarasu līnā//.
47. Jayasi, Padmāvat, v. 437: tabahū rājā hie na hārā, rāja pāvari par racā akhārā/ sāñh sāhi jahañ utarā āchā, ūpar nāc akhārā kāchā//.
48. Keśavadas, Kaviprīya, v. 41.
49. As noted by Babb, Ascetics and kings, 138, ‘Opposition between Rājpūt and Jain identity arises from the centrality to Jain life of the norm of ahiṃsā, nonviolence [which] is a crucial ingredient in the sense Jains have of who they are and how they differ from other communities.’
50. The inscription remains unpublished but has been listed several times, e.g. Willis, Inscriptions of Gopakṣetra, 37. A short account of these temples can be found in Jain, Bhārata ke Digambara Jaina, 73–5, where the author notes that they were entirely taken over by jungle and there were no Jains to be found in the village. Recently, these have been reclaimed by the Digambar Jain community and marked out as an atiśaya-kṣetra, ‘miraculous site’. Kirtisingh’s regnal dates are as deduced by Gauri, Gvāliyar kā Rājnaitik evaṁ Sānskritik itihās, 83–96.
51. All of these images were donated by members of a single family under the instruction of bhaṭṭāraka Siṃhakīrtti during the reign of Kirtisingh Tomar, see Singh and Jain, Inscriptions of Gwalior, vol. 1, nos. 348–359. For the temples, see Jain, Bhārata ke Digambara Jaina Tīrtha, 72–3. In contrast to Barai’s colossi, the stone images at Panihar are much smaller.
52. Granoff, “Mountains of Eternity,” 34.
53. De Clercq and Detige, “Colossi and Lotus Feet,” 306–15. The towering presence of these statues seems to have seriously challenged Babur’s imperial progress upon the recently conquered Gwalior Fort, for he ordered them destroyed even as he went about admiring the temples and gardens of Gwalior (Baburnama trans. Thackston, 397). Jain patronage of rock-cut images in such places has been interpreted as the demarcation of sacred space (Owen, “Demarcating Sacred Space,” 21) and of sectarian influence (Flügel et al., “Riddles of the Rock-Carved,” 29). Owen writes that ‘The remote location and difficult terrain likely added to the status of the site as the journey to Kalugumalai’s images would echo the arduous path leading from the phenomenal world to one of ultimate release. Thus, the site and its imagery mutually reinforce themes of transcendence, release, and final liberation.’
54. The images have been noticed in a brief article by Jain, “Rock-cut Jain sculptures,” 16.
55. http://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.3355612 The inscription was missed by Garde, Annual Administration Report 1940–41, 22–3, and Jain, Bhārata ke Digambara Jaina Tīrtha, 73–5 who otherwise reported on Jain inscriptions at Barai and Panihar. It is noted in Singh and Jain, Inscriptions of Gwalior, vol. 2, 307, without transcript or discussion, and in Singh and Jain, Jain Abhilekh Saṅgrah, which I have not been able to access. My provisional reading is as follows: (1) {…saṃvat 15}54 varṣē vaisākha-sudi 3 budha śrī-mūlasaṃgha-bhaṭṭāraka (2) śrī-jinacaṃdra-dēvāḥ tadāmnāyē mahārājā-śrī-mānasiṃgha-dēva-rājyē (3) bāraha-thēṇī vaṃsē sādhu-dharamū bhārjā-jādini tatputra-saṃ°-prēmala-bhārjā-ma (4) thē tatputrā-prayaḥ-jyēṣṭha-saṃ°kaur-śrī-bhārjā-maḥ tatputra-saṃ°bhairā-saṃ°jhadeha (5) …sāṃ°-haricaṃdrā bhārjā…putra-saṃ°-rāmā saṃ°-mahesu||rasaṣanēsura|| (6) bhārjā-dyaulā-putra-saṃ°-saraya saṃ°-bharahari|| ētēṣāṃ madhyē saṃ°-dē- (7) mala-pratiṣṭhāvitī| atī…ātpā-dhipatinaitha…padā (8) paṃḍitā …||. Here saṃ° is used as an abbreviation for saṃghādhipati, the ‘leader of a congregation’. The bhaṭṭāraka Jinacandra was a Digambara Jain sage (fl. 1450–1515) belonging to a branch of the Mūlasaṃgha lineage based in Delhi (Johrapurkar, Bhaṭṭāraka Sampradāya, 108). His residence at Gwalior Fort during Mansingh’s reign is known from the colophon of a Nāgakumāracarita manuscript copied on 27 July 1501 (Ibid., 104). Jinacandra is ‘reputed to have consecrated more than a thousand Jina images in 1492, to be sent to Digambara temples all over India to replace those, which had been destroyed by Muslim iconoclasts’ (De Clercq and Detige, “Colossi and Lotus Feet,” 311). See also inscriptions dated 1514/1457 and 1531/1475 that record installation of Jina images at Gwalior Fort under his instruction (Willis, Inscriptions of Gopakṣetra, 32, 38).
56. The acknowledgement of ruling authority by donors of Jain images, which is by no means a uniform feature in all inscriptions, must be seen as an act of participation in shaping the broader ‘political culture’ of Tomar-era Gwalior.
57. The close association of Jina images and waterworks at Gwalior Fort is described in the Baburnama: ‘Around the two large reservoirs inside Urwahi have been dug 20–25 wells, from which water is drawn to irrigate the vegetation, flowers and trees planted there. Urwahi is not a bad place. In fact, it is rather nice. Its one drawback was the idols, so I ordered them destroyed.’ (trans. Thackston, 397). See also, Sheikh, ‘Languages of Public Piety’, 198, who notes that ‘Water architecture was not entirely distinct from religious architecture; although it served a practical need, it was also a merit-generating act of philanthropy.’
58. Russell and Hira Lal, Tribes and Castes, 197; and Jain, “The Culture of Tambula,” 85–92.
59. The high-quality pān of Gwalior was noted by the Mughal Munshi Nek Rai while passing through the city in the 1680s, see Alam and Subrahmanyam, Writing the Mughal World, 334. The cultivation of betel leaves at Barai in more recent times is noted in Luard & Sheopuri, Gwalior State Gazetteer, 198; and on Survey of India, Madhya Pradesh, map sheet 54 J/4.
60. Russell and Hira Lal, Tribes and Castes, 192–8.
61. Hughes, “Royal Tigers and Ruling Princes,” 1227–8.
62. Persian ed. Blochmann, pt. 2 (1869): 144, trans. H.S. Jarrett, vol. 3 (1894):258.
63. Beigli and Lenci, “Underground and semi-underground,” 198–209.
64. For an overview of Persian architectural terms that refer to different kinds of pavilions and garden spaces, see Gharipour, Persian Gardens and Pavilions, 22–7.
65. For instance, the akhāra-bāzi of the Hathrasi rasiya style in the Agra region documented by Manuel, “The intermediate sphere,” 96–7, involves ‘poetic duels’ between individual vocalists who present folk song compositions often associated with Krishna.
66. It belongs to the category of sālaga suḍa prabandha, a compositional form related to dhruva as are jhūmara and paribandha. See Widdess, “Aspects of form,” 166.
67. Behl, The Magic Doe, 131–3, based on the Avadhi ed. Plukker, The Mirigāvatī of Kutubana.
68. Seen alongside Abu’l Fazl’s account, the term parastār (slaves) are to be understood as both male (naṭwás) and female (zan), rather than the all-female cast indicated in Jarrett’s translation above.
69. The patronage of dhrupad music by Mansingh is also recounted in a Tomar genealogical inscription dated 1631 that was found over a gateway at Rohtas Fort (Anon., “Sanscrit Inscription,” 697): yasmin gopācalēndrē vijayini vividhāṃ kīrttim udgātukāmā/ prodyatasaṃgītarāgā dhrupadaśatapadā bhāratī saṃbabhūva// 8cd//Sarasvati was present in the victories of that king of Gwalior, wishing to sing his manifold fame with hundreds of dhrupad verses in elevated musical melodies.
70. Ā'in-i Akbarī, trans. Jarrett, vol. 3 (1894): 251, based on Persian ed. Blochmann, pt. 2 (1869): 138.
71. Nizami, Tāj al-Ma’āsir, British Museum Add. 7623, fol. 53a-54b, trans. Elliot and Dowson, The History of India, vol. 2, 227.
72. In his introduction to the translation of Mānakutūhal, Faqirullah explains the reasons for its compilation as follows: ‘When these musicians assembled (at Gwalior), the Raja had an idea: an opportunity like this comes … only once in ages. Why not avail of it, learn and write down everything about every raga, complete with illustrations and practical hints.’ (trans. Sarmadee, 11–13).
73. kachani dakhani ka cīra kai kihī̃, cãdana cōli ura lēpana dihī̃/ 251ab/ abharana sabai kapūra ka kīnhā̃, ghāghara bā̃dhi āi pagu dīnhā̃/ 251cd/ phuni nā̃cai dhurapadā sãcārā, gāvahĩ gīta hōi jhanakārā/ 252ef/ Their tight, short saris were from the south. They had applied their blouses to their breasts like sandal paste. Their ornaments were camphor scented. They tied on their ankle-bells and began their steps. Then they began to dance the dhruva-pada, they sang songs and the music rang out. (trans. Behl, 132–33).
74. dhrupad nā̃cata gata bahuta aura tarãga upajaĩ bāra-bāra/ kata nā sãmbhārī māna pāī bahuta mā̃tana ke tāra-tāra//jo tū̃ kahata hai so to banata nāhī̃, lai kulaṭa kara rahī̃, saba bāra-bāra/ ‘sāhajahā̃’ kī saũ banata nāhī̃, āpana tau pāna-pāna mera ḍāra-ḍāra// 72// Sharma, ‘Dhrupad and dance’, p.72, where she points out that dhrupad in this form must have been rendered with necessary modifications that gave precedence to dance display.
75. My translation based on Sanskrit edition by Bose, 244, vv. 870–74. Cf. R. Sathyanarana, 159, vv. 631–35.
76. Several scholars have used such choreographic descriptions in medieval texts to trace the historic antecedents of modern classical dances (e.g. Manuel, Ṭhumri in Historical and Stylistic, 39–52; and Bose, “An early textual source,” 49–59). Mandakranta Bose has argued that such dances which were consigned to the prologues of ancient dramas (rūpakas) became independent dramatic forms (uparūpakas) by the fourteenth century. See Bose, “Uparūpaka,” 289–312.
77. The latter exemplified by Swāmī Haridas and Pīr Buddhan, respectively, see Orsini, “Krishna is the Truth,” 229.
78. Bose, Movement and Mimesis, 82–5. See, for instance, the acrobatics included within the dancers’ performance described in the Mirigāvatī, ed. Plukker 252g-j, trans. Behl, 133.
79. Widdess, “Aspects of Form,” 145.
80. It appears in the Saṅgītaratnākara, a musicological treatise composed c. 1240 at Devagiri/ Daulatabad, the capital of the Yadava dynasty.
81. Saṅgītaratnākara, vv. 7.1289–94, trans. Widdess and Sanyal, Dhrupad, 246–47.
82. Widdess and Sanyal, Dhrupad, 234, 247.
83. Ibid., 247.
84. Bose, “Uparūpaka,” 303–4.
85. Swann, “Rās Līlā and the Sanskrit Drama,” 264–74.
86. See Gupta and Valpey, The Bhāgavata Purāṇa. Among the influential early re-tellings of this is Hariramvyas’ Rāsa pañcādhyāyī, where the ‘majestic epithets’ are eschewed for more intimate names, for which see Pauwels, Kṛṣṇa’s Round Dance Reconsidered.
87. See Ehnbom, “An Analysis and Reconstruction.”
88. It has been suggested that the use of a flat red background ‘might perhaps reflect the use of such backdrops in the staging of the Raslila dance dramas of Braj and neighboring regions’ (Topsfield, Court Painting at Udaipur, 33), although none such are used today (Mason, “Playing in the Lord’s Playground”).
89. The rāsa stage is described in the sixteenth-century Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa (IV.28.12) as a circular space decorated with sandal, aloe, musk, and saffron: parito vartulākāram tatraiva rāsa-maṇḍalam/ candanāguru-kastūrī-kuṅkumena susaṃskrtaṃ//.
90. According to the hagiographical sources surveyed by Entwistle, Braj, the oldest rāsalīlā stages are the ones by Hariram Vyas at Kishoreban (p. 405) and by Hit Harivansh at Chir Ghat (p. 155), both no earlier than the 1530s. Several others dotting the Braj area were reported in the 1550s by Nārāyan Bhatt in his Vraja-bhakti-vilāsa (Entwistle, Braj, 366, 369, 373, 383–84, 405–6). Mason, Playing in the Lord’s Playground, 53, writes that ‘circular stages are becoming less easy to find in Braj. In Vrindavan and Mathura, where devotional funds have made permanent structures for performances possible, standard, proscenium-style stages are preferred. Nowadays, traditional circular stages are almost entirely isolated to performances taking place on the ban yatra trail itself, where the practicality of a simple circle better facilitates moving a company to a new countryside performance site daily.’
91. Swann, “Rās Līlā,’ 195. It is not entirely unrelated that the wrestling arena (akkhāḍaka) described in the Mānasollāsa of Someśvara III (1129–30) is to be built facing a pavilion dedicated to Krishna, the patron deity of the wrestlers (ed. Shrigondekar, vol. 2, 237, v. 967).
92. The two local names are reported by Patil, Descriptive and Classified List, 14 citing the unpublished Annual Report of the Archaeology Department, Gwalior State for 1946–47, and Dvivedi, “Mansingh’s Racch,” 32.
93. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 38–39; and “Gvāliyarī dhrupad,” 65–6.
94. Srinivasan, “Five Gwalior Gangola Tank-Bed,” 310–2 with plate. A fresh reading is provided by Singh, “Gangola Tank of Gwalior Fort,” 277. The opening verse invokes blessings of the child Krishna who miraculously lifted Mt. Govardhan upon Mansingh Tomar, followed by a verse expressing hope that Mansingh may protect the earth for eternity. The following section in prose records in formulaic manner the date, place, ruler, court nobles, composer and engraver. The inscription was carved on the bed of the Gangola tank when it was cleaned, and thus intended to accomplish quite a different task than that accomplished by a public proclamation set up for everyone to view. Engraved into the sandstone rock of the Gwalior Fort, it is placed in geological time outside the purview of immediate historical time.
95. It is possible that the dhrupad verses of Mansingh’s singer-composers (vāggeyakars) collected in the Sahasras contain more references to nascent Krishna bhakti (Personal communication, Nalini Delvoye, 17 Sep., 2017).
96. Busch, Poetry of Kings, 38, and her paper ‘Culture from the Cowherd’s Mountain’ which outlines the migration of literati from Gwalior to Orchha, and other suggestive links between the Tomar and Bundela courts. For architectural similarities, see Tillotson, Rajput Palaces, 27–8, 68–9, 84. I am grateful to Allison Busch for sharing her unpublished conference paper.
97. The opening chapter of Keśavadas’ Kaviprīya (1601) gives a vivid account of Bundela court culture, moving from forts, kings and battles to Rājā Indrajīt’s six courtesans (pāturs), which he later theorizes in chapter eight on the key ingredients of courtly description (Busch, Poetry of Kings, 40, 44). Likewise, the palace murals at Jahangir Mandir in Orchha and Govind Mandir in Datia, built during Bir Singh’s reign (c. 1605–1627), feature narratives from Krishna’s life with hunting, wrestling and dancing scenes, discussed in Rothfarb, Orchha and Beyond, ch. 6. It has been argued that the overlapping military and devotional ideals of the Bundela kings were articulated in their struggle for power and prestige under the Mughal Empire and other Rajput chiefs, through the sponsorship of temples at Braj and Orchha (Pauwels, “The Saint, the Warlord”).
98. Busch, Poetry of Kings, 8, 121, cites evidence showing that the literary language now called brajbhāṣā was in fact known as zabān-i gvāliyar until late in the seventeenth century. The akhārā tradition at Orchha is referred to in Keśavadās’ Kaviprīya (1601): karyo akhāro rāja kai sāsana saba sangīta/ tāko dekhata indra jyõ indrajīta ranajīta//1.41//(Mishra, Keśav-granthāvalī, 97).
99. Ray, “Hydroaesthetics,” has put forward an interesting argument that the rise of pilgrimage practices at sixteenth-century Braj focused on venerating the riverscape and forested landscape was a response to a period of global droughts and famines, c. 1550–1850. Mansingh’s patronage at Barai may either point to earlier climatic events, or to entirely different imperatives in the evolving environmental aesthetic. Indeed, in the preceding fifteenth century we find not only a proliferation of step-well inscriptions (Fussman, Chanderi, pass., Sheikh, “Languages of Public Piety,” 198–9) but also exquisite palatial waterworks such as those at Mandu, Sadalpur and Kalyadeh (Porter, “Jardins Pré-Moghols,” 41–51).
100. Faqirullah, Tarjuma-i Mānakutūhal, ed. Sarmadee, 98–99.
101. Hodivala, Studies in Indo-Muslim history, 228.
102. Reḥla of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa. Husain, 124.
103. Pauwels, “The Saint, The Warlord,” 192–6.
104. Dvivedi, “Man Singh’s Racch,” 36; and Dvivedi, Gvāliyar ke Tomar, 134–7 for dhrupad verses on Mrignayani. The romance of Mansingh and Mrignayani was given new life in Verma’s 1955 novel, Mriganayanī. Note the parallels with the equally legendary story of Baz Bahadur and Rupmati set in Mandu of the 1550s, where the prince becomes captivated by the tunes of the country maiden while on a hunt.
105. Hughes, “Royal Tigers and Ruling Princes,” 1215.
106. Ibid., 1216.
107. Gommans, Mughal Warfare, 39 notes that ‘the basic social ingredient of the mawas was the inclusive war-band consisting of people with shared interests. Of course, these open groups could take a tribal or communal identity, but in principle their recruitment was not ascriptive but conscriptive.’
108. See above for discussion of the passage from Mirigāvatī.
109. ‘Another order was, that all the pātars should be taken by force from those Amīrs who kept Akhāras (these are well known in Hindūstān). He also seized the elephants in the same manner, and did not leave in the possession of any one any but a wretched female elephant fit only for carrying baggage, and gave orders that the red tent was confined solely to his own use.’ Badā’ūnī, Muntakhab al-tawārīkh, trans. Ranking, vol. 1, 496.
110. The Mānakutūhala of Mansingh Tomar, which survives in a Gwaliyari original (Oriental Institute Baroda acc. no. 2125, cited in Miner, “Raga,” 393) and in a Persian translation by Faqirullah (ed. Sarmadee), and the Lahajāt-e Sikandar Shāhī of Yaḥyā al-Kābulī (ed. Husaini).
111. Welch and Crane, “The Tughluqs,” 149, 152–4. They note how ‘ʿAfīf characterized the sultan as a “very cautious man,” who had three abiding interests: governing, hunting, and building. Although Muhammad had warned his cousin against his inordinate passion for hunting, both before and after he took the crown Firuz Shah spent much of his time pursuing game’ (p. 126).
112. Badā’ūnī, Muntakhab al-tawārīkh, trans. vol. 1, 332, where he reports that these were among the 1300 books from the Jwālāmukhī Temple Library that Firuz Shah ordered translated from Sanskrit into Persian upon the conquest of Nagarkot/ Kangra in 762/1360-61, and that Badā’ūnī himself consulted these books at the Mughal imperial library in Lahore during the year 1000/1591-92.
113. Parpia, “Reordering Nature,” 44.
114. Digby, “The Indo-Persian Historiography,’ 254.
115. Kumar, “Bandagī and Naukarī,” 86.
116. Reḥla of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, trans. Husain, 224.
117. Such as the eleven-month long siege by Iltutmish in 1232 (Elliot and Dowson, History of India, 327–8).
118. Welch, The Roman Amphitheatre, 2.
119. Sreenivasan, “Warrior-tales at Hinterland Courts,” 242–72, attends to the literary patronage of precisely such ‘petty chiefs wielding significant political power’. Silhadi was related to the Tomar family, and was born at a village called Sojna that lay ‘in a valley among the hills’ of Gwalior (see ), visited by Babur on 2 October 1528 while he was residing at Rahimdad’s chaharbagh (Baburnama, trans. Thackston, 399). Silhadi’s military career is discussed in detail by Kolff, Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy, 88–102. Ladkhan was an Afghan noble from Jaunpur who was granted refuge in Gwalior by Mansingh’s father. The freestanding Ladheri Gate perched on a hill outside Gwalior fort, a ruined mosque dated 1489, and the neighbouring Ladpura mohalla are believed to be associated with this warlord. See Gauri, Gvāliyar kā Rājnaitik evaṁ Sānskritik itihās, 103–4, 110; and Nath, Islamic Architecture and Culture, 67–77.
120. This observance was on occasion flouted when circumstances demanded, as for instance by the northward advances towards Gwalior by Sultan Mahmud Khalji of Malwa in 1423, for which see Dey, Medieval Malwa, 109. On the seasons of soldiering and the theme of separation in bārāhmāsa poetry, see Kolff, Naukar, Rajput, and Sepoy, 74–6.
121. Gommans, Mughal Warfare, 174.
122. Inden, “Introduction,” 13. A telling example is Viṣṇudās’ literary epic Pāṇḍav-carit, which was composed in response to a challenge by the Tomar king Dungarsingh, who handed him a betel leaf (bīḍā) at the start of the military campaigning season in Kārtika 1435, asking how the hundred Kaurava princes could be defeated by the five Pāṇḍava brothers. See Bangha, “Early Hindi Epic Poetry,” 365.
123. On the importance of open-air spaces like the battlefield, granary floor, and hunting grounds where ‘certain nuances, certain ambiguities, a certain elbowroom’ might have prevailed in transactions between Sultanate-era warlords, see Hardy, “Growth of Authority,” 237.
124. See Falk, “Wilderness and Kingship”; and Parpia, “Reordering Nature.”
125. Pān was given both as a token of welcome, as in Dungarsingh’s assembly described by Viṣṇudās (see n. 109), and as a token of farewell, as in Qutban’s Mirigāvatī (see n. 66).
126. Here I have followed the narrative in Qutban’s Mirigāvatī, trans. Behl, 133.
127. See note 42 above.