Tag: #Travelogue

☆ 🍀Mandu in the Monsoon – A Journey into Mist, Magic, and Melody🌧️🌈 ☆ Mr. Jagat Singh Bisht ☆

Being based in Indore, Mandu has never been far from me – a place I have often driven to with friends, or proudly shown to visiting guests. For years, it has stood in my heart as the most picturesque jewel around Indore. Yet, nothing – not even a hundred earlier visits – could prepare me for the divine spell Mandu cast upon me this time.

I had often heard whispers: “Go to Mandu in the monsoon, it is another world.” But I had not even dreamt of the bliss and magic awaiting us. The moment we ascended the plateau, it felt as if we had been transported to a heavenly, secret hill station – a place unnamed on any geographical map, tucked away in some corner of imagination and myth.

The clouds descended to play with us, wrapping the old stone palaces in veils of mist. Rain-washed monuments gleamed, spic and span, like brides dressed for a celestial wedding. From the edges of the plateau, the valley below lay in a blanket of emerald green, alive with the freshness of rain. The air carried the fragrance of wet earth, roasted bhuttas on roadside fires, and the promise of Malwa’s delicious cuisine waiting at every stop.

It was joy, pure and simple – the kind that seeps into the soul and stays there forever.

☘️Dhar – Between History and Art

Our route to Mandu took us first through Dhar, a city that still preserves echoes of its layered history. At the heart of this is the Bhojshala, a unique monument that defies easy definition. As per the guidelines of the Archaeological Survey of India, Muslims gather here for prayer on Fridays, while Hindus worship on Tuesdays and during the festival of Vasant Panchami, honouring Goddess Saraswati. On other days, it opens itself to visitors like us – curious wanderers eager to listen to its silent stories.

From there, we stepped into a different world altogether – the Phadke Art Studio. Established in 1933 by the gifted sculptor Raghunath Krishna Phadke, who had come to Dhar on the invitation of its king, this studio is no less than a temple of artistry. Every corner seemed alive with his creations: statues of freedom fighters like Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru, Tilak, and Raja Ram Mohan Roy, captured not as stiff memorials but as vibrant, breathing presences. Beside them stood exquisitely carved figures of kings, queens, and spiritual leaders, each narrating stories of power, devotion, or grace.

The experience became even more special when Phadke’s grandson himself guided us, sharing with affection and pride the intricate details of these masterpieces. It was as if the chiselled stone figures had begun whispering their secrets to us.

⛩️Mandu – Celebration in Stone

And then, Mandu!

If Dhar was a prelude, Mandu was the grand symphony. Every monument here seems carved out of joy itself, an ode to beauty and romance. The very air hums with the story of poet-prince Baz Bahadur and his beloved Rani Roopmati, whose palace still gazes wistfully over the Narmada valley. Their love, immortalised in ballads and folklore, lends the landscape a soft, haunting music, especially when the monsoon clouds gather and the peacocks cry.

Walking through Jahaz Mahal, Hindola Mahal, and the rain-kissed pavilions, one could almost hear forgotten songs echoing in the mist. Mandu, in the monsoon, is not just a place to see – it is a mood to live, a poem to feel.

🙋A Journey of Companionship

What is travel without companions? This journey became unforgettable not only because of the landscape but also because of the people who shared it. My heartfelt gratitude goes to Anand Bhave, who warmly invited us to join this wonderful group, and to Shravan Kumar Kanchan, whose flawless organisation ensured that every moment was smooth, lively, and memorable.

There was singing, laughter, and the warmth of conversations with fellow travellers – people bound by a shared love for trekking, exploring, and simply being happy in each other’s company.

🎬Epilogue – A Memory for the Ages

The return was by the Manpur route, but my mind was still wandering in the clouds of Mandu. It was as if the plateau had absorbed a part of my soul and gifted me, in return, something timeless – the memory of rain-drenched stones, the taste of roasted corn, the fragrance of wet winds, and the echo of love stories carved in stone.

Mandu in the monsoon is not just a destination. It is a celebration – of life, of joy, of love, and of nature’s grand theatre. It will remain etched in me as one of the most soul-satisfying experiences of my life.

© Jagat Singh Bisht