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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



the original edifice, or fane, there are 

 innumerable separate structures, varying 

 in size and no two exactly alike, although 

 all conforming to the prototype. 



A full-sized bronze Siva bull rests in 

 solitary state among the sculptured col- 

 umns of the square central temple, the 

 roof of which, from above, appears as 

 if covered with thousands of Lilliputian 

 shrines welded into a solid mass and 

 carved in fine detail. No one has ever 

 been able to explain why such pains were 

 taken with decorations where, apparently, 

 no human eye was ever intended to see 

 them. 



Rana Kumbha's life work for the pro- 

 tection of Mewar was the building of 

 thirty-two fortresses, chief of which is 

 Komulmair, or Kumbhalgarh, on the 

 "Hill of Kumbha," 800 feet high, with a 

 great "cloud-capped" palace on the top. 

 Walls of enormous thickness, strength- 

 ened by towers and battlements, embra- 

 sures and inside galleries, wind and dou- 

 ble upon themselves round and round to 

 the summit (see illustration, page 470). 



As is usual in these defenses used for 

 the protection of royalty, the hill is 

 pierced with secret chambers, while huge 

 cisterns in the solid rock were used for 

 storing water. 



Tales of romance and of "battles long 

 ago" center round Komulmair. The in- 

 fant Udai Singh, later the founder of 

 Udaipur, was carried to the fortress by 

 his faithful nurse, after her escape 

 through the underground passage at 

 Chitor, when the child was about to be 

 murdered by his uncle. This incident is 

 the theme of a poem by Sir Edwin Ar- 

 nold, "The Rajput Nurse." 



HOW THE TRAVELER VISITS CHITOR 



Chitor is easy of access, all that is 

 necessary being to write to the private 

 secretary of the Maharana at Udaipur, 

 who makes arrangements for the accom- 

 modation of visitors at the dak-bungalow, 

 or rest-house. The entertainment is 

 somewhat primitive, but, being offered 

 through the courtesy of His Highness, 

 one accepts it gratefully. 



Through trains from Bombay and 

 Delhi meet at Chitor in the early morn- 

 ing. Approaching through the gray of 

 the "false dawn" peculiar to India, the 

 gigantic walled rock, crowned with a 



dead city, looms afar as though frowning 

 with unhappy memories on the surround- 

 ing plain. 



Ganshi — venerable, hard-headed, with 



thirty years of accumulated elephantine 

 malice toward all who want to be taken 

 up the long, steep climb to Chitor — will 

 be waiting, with her mahout beside the 

 morning cooking fire, under the sweet- 

 flowering Chameli trees, back of the 

 white plastered, blue convolvulus-covered 

 station, with its rows of trickling water 

 hydrants. 



THE THRONE OE A HUNDRED WARRIOR 

 KINGS 



Chitor was once an impregnable fort- 

 ress, the throne of a hundred warrior 

 kings, the repository of vast treasure and 

 priceless works of art. Along the zigzag 

 ascent, bronze gates closed the seven 

 great archways, which were high enough 

 to admit the tallest elephant topped by a 

 howdah. 



Above all towers the majestic Pillar of 

 Victory, begun in 1451 and finished some 

 years later. Too great even for the 

 despoiler, it stands as firm on its rock 

 foundation as when Rana Kumbha placed 

 it as a "ringlet on the brow of Chitor." 

 No words can paint a picture of its carven 

 imagery that entwines, from base to sum- 

 mit, every object known to Hindu myth- 

 ology. The column stands 122 feet high, 

 with each of its faces 35 feet broad at 

 the base and more than 17 feet broad 

 under the cupola. It has nine stories, 

 with landings on a spiral staircase at 

 openings in the face of each story. In 

 the vaulted chamber at the top are black 

 marble slabs inscribed with the genealogy 

 of all the kings of Chitor. 



The carved exterior can only be ap- 

 preciated with field-glasses, and even then 

 none save the gray hawk-moths and 

 pigeons ever see those at the very top. 

 In ohotographing the whole with an ordi- 

 nary camera, most of the fine detail is 

 lost. 



Here may be seen the classic Hindu 

 architecture in its original purity, the 

 sculptured subjects being reposeful and 

 rhythmic, with none of the sinister ex- 

 pression and grotesque posturing of 

 mixed Dravidian-Hindu art. The ex- 

 terior walls and fluted domes of half- 

 ruined temples and other buildings are 



