It took a scorned emperor and the combined armies of Amber, Marwar and the Mughals to storm and capture the fort of Kumbhalgarh. Even in defeat, the Rajputs added countless tales of heroism to the already extensive realms of folklore; never again and never before in its 600-year old history, did this fort fall to an invader. Built by Rana Kumbha in the 15th century, this scenic citadel has been witness to events that remain forever etched in collective memory.

Panna Dai, the maid of fifteen-year-old Udai Singh, placed her own son to be beheaded by traitors at Chittorgarh while she spirited the young heir to Kumbhalgarh. It is here that he lived in disguise till visiting nobles recognised him. They flocked to him from all over Mewar.

His son, the legendary Maharana Pratap was born at Kumbhalgarh while the teenager Udai Singh rode at the head of his new army to reclaim his late father’s throne at Chittor. All that one needs now to claim the fort is the love of Rajputana romanticism, a wanderer’s spirit, an inquisitive Mewarmind and perhaps a Club Mahindra membership! Situated in the fertile hill and vale region of Mewar, Kumbhalgarh is a different world, frozen in time, somewhere in the 17th century. Excellent road, rail and air network bring us to within 50 km of the highlands. Well-paved single-lane roads snake into the region. Streams, lakes, forests and fields welcome the visitor to a terrain untouched by the ravages of modern civilisation.

Fortified
Kids smile and wave at passing vehicles. Bullocks plough the fields. Farmers prod ox-driven water wheels (rahhat) to irrigate fields of sugarcane and wheat. An old man fires up his coal pit with a hand-driven blower, while his little daughter coyly hides her face from the camera. The rustic simplicity is endearing. We carry packets of biscuits and ball pens. These come in handy to strike a rapport with children and adults alike. We are shipped back in time to an era that no longer exists even in dreams back home. We park ourselves at the vista point on the hill opposite the fort entrance, a little before sunrise. As the sky lights up in the east, the ramparts acquire a warm hue. There is not a soul in sight. It is just the fort, the forest and us. Pictures taken, we sit back to watch the view. The 36-km-long wall with massive rounded bastions and a width good for eight horses to gallop abreast is said to be the second longest wall after the Great Wall of China. In fact there is a second wall within the outer one and several layers of fortifications inside.

Everything here is on a mega scale. We find ourselves in a virtual treasure house of architecture. There are no less than 360 temples spread over the large expanse of hills and plateaus. The oldest are the Jain temples from the Mauryan era. The Ganesha and Chaturbhuja temples are close to the entrance. The Shiva temple with a huge black lingam has stairs and pillars that resemble the Parthenon of Greece. There is even a living village within the fort, complete with buffalos and haystacks!

The wild side
We leave for the climb to the Badal Mahal late in the afternoon when the day crowds thin out and the light is better again for photography. The path looks steep and arduous but turns out to be surprisingly simple. The passage is wide and the gradient is gentle. We pass across gates and watch towers. At the top of the hill we walk around to the rear of the palace. Its elevation dwarfs us. The mustard-coloured wall must be a hundred feet or higher. Its colour is enhanced by the warmth of the rays of the setting sun. From the top we see hills and forests as far as the vision permits. The sun bows to the west, witnessing us just as it would have witnessed the last of the proud Maharanas of Mewar.

We take our time to explore the ruins before walking to a lone teashop down the road. Night engulfs the fort. A chill returns in the air. A small fire is lit. A couple of villagers join in. Tales of bravado pour out. They talk of the creation of Udaipur and its lakes, 50 km to the south, by Maharana Udai Singh. They talk of the Ranakpur Jain temples, 50 km to the west. They also talk of the leopards, bears, hyenas and jackals that prowl the hills, the fort, the fields and the roads at night. The impromptu campfire grants us a candid peep into the love and pride these people have for their land.

It is dark all around. We walk back. Every rustle of leaf and every movement in darkness raise hopes and fears of a leopard or a bear sauntering on the road. But thankfully it is not to be. The next day we drive up the rocky path to the entrance of the Kumbhalgarh wildlife sanctuary for a better chance. A steep descent from there brings us into a ravine, alive with large trees and dense undergrowth. It is a lovely drive to the ‘Thandi Beri’ rest house on a promontory overlooking a lake. We see eagles, langurs, sambhar and jungle fowl. The big carnivores remain elusive.

A civet cat crosses our path, stopping for a moment to look at us and disappearing quickly into the bush. I think she said, ‘come again to see more of me and my home’!