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Enchanting Echoes from an Ancient Ancient Metropolis
In an early winter evening, the sun is about to say the shimmery adieu for the day to those on the bank of the mighty Meghna. And you walk along the alleys of serenely silent Panam, trying to chat through your curious eyes with the architectural relics on both sides. They will slowly start engulfing you with their memoirs about witnessing time. A melting pot of architectural influences from the Mughal, the Sultanate and the European eras, but ardently crafted by local artisans and architects of the Bengal in their techniques, Panam City is a living specimen of the timeline. The comeliest of Chinni-tikri ornamentations made of broken ceramics brought from the Dutch, the scroll-shaped Greek stuccos, cast iron railings first produced in the 19th century Britain, and those alluring arches that you can eye on every Mughal era structure – the list goes on. The city is not only a pristine example of architecture but also has a finely designed urban plan, especially in terms of its utilisation of water. There are two large canals, parts of the land are slightly slanted towards one of the canals for drainage, and the city also has five big ponds. If we look at the remains of the buildings, it is noticeable that there are open spaces inside each compound and a well for household water supply in the backyard. Built almost five centuries ago by one of the legendary Baro Bhuiyas (12 Bhuiyas), Isa Khan, Panam City is the oldest capital of Bengal. Although it is one of the most popular tourist sites, many people still make the mistake of interchanging Sonargaon and Panam City. Whereas Sonargaon is a thousand years’ old, Panam is roughly 500 years of age. At the time, Sonargaon consisted of three cities: Boro Nagar, Khas Nagar and Panam Nagar. History says Panam started gaining colossal importance with the gradual decline in the prominence of the then-port city of Sonargaon, which was one of the most important trading points in the world. Bengal was the fourth largest exporter of goods at the time, and a golden era of the finest Bengal Muslin was vastly being exported to Europe, and various foreign goods were imported. Sonargaon was one of the most sought-after places for international merchants at the time. Later, with the arrival of the East India Company and the British sun gradually rising on the Bay of Bengal colonising the land, the plot drastically changed. The business didn’t stop at the site but it changed a lot with the British, making Panam a hub of their notorious indigo farming. As the demand for blue dye grew in the West for various usage purposes, so did the greed of the colonisers here for making more profit resulting in an ever more ill fate for the local indigo farmers. Although after a series of constant resistance later, the gruesome industry here gradually fell, the stains from the royal blue inked scars remained for a long time. Located 20 kilometers off the capital Dhaka, Sonargaon currently is an Upazila of the Narayanganj administrative district where Panam proudly rests. The remains of the beautifully built single to three-storied buildings on both sides of its roughly 600-meter-long main road, were mostly constructed from investments by the wealthiest local Hindu merchants and aristocrats of the time. The city containing multi-purpose buildings including places of worship, halls, guest houses for foreign merchants, libraries, and so on, was also a cultural hub with twinkling sounds of baijis (professional dancers) dancing in a courtyard full of guests consuming the finest of booze and tobacco, after the sunset. It is said that the Sultan of Bengal, Giyasuddin Azam Shah once invited the world-famous Persian poet Hafiz, but he was unable to make the long trip due to his old age. Hafiz instead wrote a beautiful poem about the beautiful city he only knew through word of mouth and texts. After reading his poetry, many Persians made their trip to the city, only to be enchanted by its aura. After a series of gruesome phases of riots, lootings of the site, and situations during the 1971 liberation war being the final nails in the coffin, the once-loved and bustling city was gradually being abandoned by its very dear residents. The buildings stayed like that, slowly rotting, welcoming new inhabitants outside human beings. For a time being many of them were being leased out by the government, followed by heavy protests from conservationists. In 2004 it was declared a protected site. Amongst the most significant buildings on the site, perhaps the most popular and notable one is the magnificent Baro Sardar Bari. Staying in a dying state for years without care, the once multi-purpose building, which still has hooks on certain ceilings inside, reminds us of how Muslin fabrics were hung. It recently went through a major painstaking restoration process as part of a conservation project funded by a Korean company in collaboration with the Ministry of Cultural Affairs. The remains are what in a comparatively well-state are 52 other structures as well. You can still walk on their marvelous checkered pattern floors of black, red and white marbles and mosaics with risks of plasters falling on your head from any of the walls above. But there are reasons to smile as part of the same conservation programme led by the Bangladeshi conservation architect, Dr. Abu Sayeed M Ahmed, the whole site will be gradually restored. Within a walking distance, in one of the restored old buildings, there is also a museum showcasing artifacts and the history of local handicraft practices. The museum, currently consisting of 10 galleries, was established by the legendary artist Zainul Abedin in 1975. From a broader perspective, Panam is much more than just being pertinent to the discussion of being an eccentric tourist site fantasised by the mass and delving into a peculiar sense of pride in the name of heritage. Panam is also a hushed yet piercing testament about how the nature
The Tales of Terracotta Temple
A embodiment of the weirdly mysterious vibe that ancient structures often procure, Kantaji is undoubtedly the most colossal example of terracotta architecture in the region. Often, it’s the grandiosity or beauty of religious space and/or the stories attached that give an inexplicable feeling of peace to believers, and even to the visitors when they enter the space. Kantaji is not only a Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Krishna, but this sublime piece of architecture meditating on the banks of Dhepa for three centuries, consisting of almost 15,000 pieces of delicate terracotta on its skin, and has its list of stories and myths attached as well. These, when combined, give the space a mysterious character that it tenderly holds. But even if you do not know much about Kantaji, being present at the site at the right time when the wind charmingly flows, you will understand that the atmosphere has suddenly taken you to a place where you do not know how old the time is. The story of Kantaji’s initiation blooms from a bud consisting of conspiracies. It was 1862, the reign of the last mighty Mughal ruler, Aurangzeb, the youngest son of Shahjahan who built the iconic TajMahal. It was also a time when the zamindari of the Dinajpur region was going through a rough phase. The then zamindar, Prannath Roy, was perched on the throne after the consecutive deaths of his two elder brothers. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Prannath was loved by his people. And within a few years, just like many other royal rivalry stories straight out of a novel, enters King Raghbendro Roy, zamindar of Ghoraghat. There was already a rivalry in existence between both the zamindar families of Dinajpur and Ghoraghat. Raghbendro plotted a conspiracy to take advantage of the situation and sent a letter to Aurangzeb, blatantly lying that Prannath had perched on the throne by killing his two elder brothers, Ramdeb and Joydeb. That he was not only a tyrannical zamindar, but also refused to obey the authority of Delhi’s ruler, Aurangzeb, and was irregular in sending the required tax. The plot worked. A furious Aurangzeb ordered a show cause and Prannath eventually traveled to the palace of the emperor with gifts. A while after they met, coming across the integrity of the kind-hearted Prannath, Aurangzeb realised his mistake and, out of kindness, gave Prannath the title of King and ordered him to carry on his usual zamindari of Dinajpur. The story of Kantaji’s initiation blooms from a bud consisting of conspiracies Here comes the most interesting part. As a devotee to Lord Krishna, when Prannath got out of this danger and received the title of King, as a devotee to Lord Krishna, he decided to do something out of love for his religion. While on his journey back to Delhi, he decided to visit Brindaban for a while and set up a Krishna temple in Dinajpur once he returned. During his stay in Brindaban, he was blown away by a beautiful Krishna statue, and he wanted to bring it back home for the temple he wanted to build. But, as said, he had a dream where Lord Krishna himself appeared and asked him not to take this particular statue as the feelings of the local devotees would be hurt. Instead, Krishna was said to have told Prannath to be patient because he was about to receive a Krishna statue identical to the one he desired during bath the next day, and that Krishna would travel with him on that statue. Soon after the divine dream, the next day, as Prannath was having his bath, he found an identical Krishna statue, beaming with its entire godly aura. This is what Prannath brought back Dinajpur to install in Kantaji. But that mysterious Krishna statue is not there anymore. It is believed that after the massive earthquake of 1897, when the temple was badly damaged and lost its original nine spires, for which it was also called “Navaratna”, the statue was stolen from the disastrous site. There is also a myth that Aurangzeb himself ordered Prannath to set up a Krishna temple, whereas Aurangzeb was a Muslim. And speaking of that, the architects Prannath commissioned for Kantaji were all Muslims. You can still find the brick mosque they built for themselves a few minutes distance from Kantaji. Another interesting fact is that just outside Kantaji’s premise; you will find an abandoned temple-like structure. That was the temporary temple that Prannath originally built, but he eventually wanted a grander one, hence he began the construction of Kantaji in 1704. Sadly, Prannath could not live long enough to witness the completion of this terracotta masterpiece. Every inch of the walls is embedded with a highly sophisticated opera of art, composed in a rhythm. Beautiful floral designs, amazing stories depicted from Ramayana-Mahabharata, and many extremely fascinating contemporary local stories, etc. Perhaps the most fabulously interesting ornamentation on the skins of Kantaji would be the depiction of erotic scenes. All these stories say so much about spirituality, about what is pious and what is not, about togetherness between human beings of different religions and so on. King Prannath Roy passed away in 1722. His adopted son, Ramnath Roy, took charge of the throne and, according to the last wish of his beloved father, finished the construction in 1752, which stands till date. With no tickets required, the temple is open at any time of the day and is open to all, regardless of faith. It’s one of the major archeological sites in Bangladesh.
The Voyage of Bajra and Rangeela’s Mosque
Rangeela is the word which denotes vibrant/joyous, often mixed with quirkiness. So is the tale of Bajra Shahi Masjid, apparently unconnected unless it is told. After all, how many 281 years’ old mosques do you know named after a watercraft! Being a silent witness like a vessel through the waves of time, while breathing over four separate centuries, this Chinni-tikri skinned sublime architecture was built in the middle of a village. It has such a riveting history that it is a bit arduous to decide where one should begin while trying to tell its tales. With Rangeela, shall we, to unravel the ‘mystery’? Abu Al-Fatah Nasir Ud-Din Muhammad Shah was another one-of-a-kind emperor in the collection of Mughal Empire emperors. Passing away at the age of 45 this interesting man lived quite a colourful life whilst having an eventful reign. Born as Roshan Akhtar, and eventually becoming The Muhammad Shah, after ascending to the legendary Peacock Throne, this handsome-looking man had multiple wives. One being a dancer peeks a hint about his time where worldly pleasures were always a priority rather than tensely being busy with bloodshed to protect the reign and expand like most other emperors. Whilst on the throne of a once mighty empire that was at the beginning of its eventual end, he was more glued to orchestrating orders that would vastly contribute to the cultural developments of the region. He was greatly influenced by genres of creative practices and his pen-name was Sada Rangeela which loosely translates as ‘always joyful’. How is Rangeela connected to the story of Bajra Imam Hasan Siddiqui, a simple old man, is Bajra’s current Imam and has been there for the past 27 years. Appointed through a legacy of seven generations, his veins are carrying the blood of the first ever Imam, who was appointed at this vibrant space of worship almost three centuries back, by Rangeela himself. You can read an honour board carrying the names of his forefathers in his office room inside the tiled compound of this graceful mosque. And it is not a sort of unspoken rule for the place; after a time it was the love of the locals, who out of admiration asked for the legacy of the first-ever Imam, Shah Sufi Abu Siddiqui to be continued. Sufi, who was a former resident of the holy city Mecca, was the first and longest-serving Imam for 55 years at his beloved Bajra. According to Imam Hasan Siddiqui, popular stories and recorded history, the story of Bajra’s birth may be something like the following one: Adored representatives of Rangeela, the brothers Amanullah and Sanaullah, were ordered to go on inspection of the reigned regions. They were to build a beautiful mosque, in reflection of The Delhi Shahi Mosque (Masjid-e Jehan-Numa), on the location where the siblings along their troops would run out of food and water, during the expedition. Closer to the location of the mosque that we see elegantly embracing its guests today, is where Amanullah’s water vessel was anchored at the banks of Bulbuli. After offering prayers, this is the site where Amanullah decided to construct a mosque. Hence, the name Bajra became popular. The Bengali word defines a particular type of water vessel, a big-sized boat, that was used mostly by the wealthy elites and royals of the time to travel across this riverine delta. The mosque was named after that eventually, and the village where it homes was formerly known as Umrabadh, which got its new and identical name after the mosque. According to another version of the story, Zamindar Amanullah built his house thereafter, during the stoppage of his inspection tour. Later, by the order of Rangeela, built the mosque there. There are many interesting local folklores attached as well. Till his death, Amanullah was the mutawalli of the mosque and after his demise, younger one Sanaullah was given the responsibility. In the early 1900s Bajra zamindars Khan Bahadur Ali Ahmad and Khan Bahadur Mujir Uddin Ahmad extensively repaired and decorated the mosque. Although an extension has been built in recent years to accommodate increasing number of devotees in congregations. It is still one of those few historically significant monuments in the country that were taken care of over the years and in a surprisingly better state. The Bajra mosque is not a common thing to pop up on a non-local’s mind. Apart from travel and history enthusiasts, how many are aware that one of the comeliest mosque complexes of Bangladesh has been quietly standing with all its gracefulness for almost 300 years inside a not much heard about village in Noakhali? After a long while on tracks, under the soothing shades of green, you will be welcomed by the suavely calm waters of a 30 acres huge pond which not only complements the complexion of the space, but is also special as it was dug to use its earth to construct the elevated platform where Bajra stands beside. Although identical to its other Mughal siblings, having alluring arches, delightful domes, magnificent minarets, and a gorgeous gate on the east, what makes Bajra so special is its enthralling complexity of ornamentation with Chinese ceramics or Chinni-tikri all over its pearl white skin. As if all the ravishing floral and other designs on its body, the dark green ceiling you stare at standing under the marbled dome while inside, has been calligraphed with essences embedded of stories and folklores, often attached to age-old architectures that profusely decorates its already mystic domain of aura, which sends pulses of abstruse serenity to its guests. . A 300-year-old breeze caressing your hair as you sit by Bajra’s pond after Asr, and gazing forever at the kisses of golden hour glistening on Bajra’s surface might make you start counting masjids (mosques) in this country. There aren’t many like Bajra. Written by Shahbaz Nahian