115 



At lengtli after some fifty or more •wuiiry miles Avhich we 

 took several hours to cover, the domes and uiinarets of Bijapur 

 rose against the arid and sparsely cultivated plain. This old 

 city of Aurang Zeb is now a city of the dead. Green parroquets 

 fly screaming al30ut the walls, and make their nests in holes 

 which time has hollowed in the richly carved cornices of the 

 mosques. Little bright eyed squirrels, grotesquely striped with 

 black and brown run hither and thither over the ruins, jerking 

 their long tails and chattering to themselves about the in- 

 truders who dare to dispute their possession of such classic 

 ground. For this city is a lasting relic of the glory of the great 

 conqueror Aurang Zeb. Turning out or destroying the original 

 inhabitants he built his own magnificent Mahommcdan shrines 

 and tombs, and for a time flourished in oriental splendour. His 

 dynasty however passed never to be replaced. 



Sitting in the moonlight at the door of an old mosque, now 

 converted to the modern uses of a traveller's bungalow, we 

 could not but be influenced by the solitude and grandeur of the 

 scene. A few yards in front of us rose the Gol Gombaz, an 

 enormous tomb raised to the memory of a former ruler. We 

 had climbed up to the dome in the afternoon, and had found 

 there a whispering gallery equal to that of St. Paul's. The 

 diameter of the dome itself is only a few feet less than that of 

 Ao English cathedral, while it is greater than the diameter of 

 the dome of St. Peter's in Rome. When it is added that the 

 height of this pile is in proportion, some idea will perhaps be 

 conveyed of this gigantic monument to the memory of the com- 

 paratively unknown man, whose bones rest beneath a modest 

 slab in the centre of the floor. Such is an example of the 

 buildings of Bijapur, erected in a time when might was right, 

 and rulers ordered their subjects to work without hope of 

 I'ccompense or reward. 



In spite of the baying of pariah dogs and the scampering 

 of rats we slept soundly in our strange quarters. The next 

 morning we visited the chief mosques and ruins, and were more 

 than ever impressed with the utter desolation of the place. 

 Except a few squalid natives and a handful of English officials, 

 no human beings tenanted the empty streets and courts. Every- 

 thing was thickly overgroAvn Avith cactus, lantana and other 

 bushes. A tamarind tree here and there lent a grateful shade, 

 and its graceful foliage formed a fitting accompaniment of the 



