State of Ruins

Asia’s largest fortress was built to last. Rising out of a rocky plateau, the ramparts of Chittorgarh encircle a 240-hectare hilltop. They have withstood centuries of war and outlived dynasties, the many layers of outer fortifications snaking around crumbling palaces, small shrines, a few holy-water pools, and a forlorn marble victory tower, erected to commemorate a 15th century battle. My tour guide, an affable man born in the shadow of Chittorgarh’s ruins, smiles broadly, gestures between imposing battlements and delicate temple carvings and asks, “Isn’t this Rajasthan at its best?”

It’s hard to say. Unlike similar sites elsewhere in this fortress-strewn western Indian state, Chittorgarh offers few popular tourist diversions. There are no elephant rides through its stone portals, no village girls dancing in traditional garb, no French bistros or souvenir shops beckoning from refurbished seraglios. Nor does Chittorgarh boast the renovated opulence of Rajasthan’s other great forts. Abandoned over 400 years ago, parts of it lie overgrown and in disrepair—quite the exception in a state chockablock with glitzy heritage hotels.

Instead, the great hulk of Chittorgarh offers less tangible pleasures. Stoically enduring above arid plains, it embodies Rajasthan’s tragic mystique better than any other monument. Facing certain defeat on three separate occasions, Chittorgarh’s fierce Rajput occupants donned saffron robes and rode out from its iron-spiked gates to their deaths. Not to be outdone by the sacrificial heroics of their menfolk, the women chose jauhar, or self-immolation in a fiery pit, over captivity. Such tales have cloaked Chittorgarh in an aura that it retains to this day. My guide waxes romantic over the spot where the beautiful Queen Padmini committed herself to the flames to escape the Sultan of Delhi’s clutches in 1303. “She is still beloved by the people,” he declares. “She is Rajasthan.”

To some, these feudal pieties are precisely the problem. Compared to Goa’s fashionable beach resorts, or Kerala’s ayurvedic spas, Rajasthan’s desert landscapes, mustachioed warriors and women in billowing, rainbow-colored ghaghra are seen as tired staples of worthy travel documentaries. Yet no place in India, perhaps anywhere in the world, has the density and variety of Rajasthan’s fabulous monuments. Its three most famous destinations—the pink city of Jaipur, the blue city of Jodhpur and the lake city of Udaipur—teem with hidden delights, from bustling local markets to old observatories to tranquil gardens. Further afield, ancient holy towns like Ajmer and Pushkar afford winding urban explorations and peaceful lake views with fewer touts and tourists in the way. The golden city of Jaisalmer, with its Persian-inspired villas and trains of camel caravans, rises out of the desert like a hallucination from The Arabian Nights. Some of India’s last remaining great tigers prowl the forests of Ranthambore, while the airy hill station at Mount Abu abounds with shrines and scenic views. Then there is the stunning, 15th century temple complex at Ranakpur, a majestic pile of shining white marble nestled in the wild Aravali hills—surely one of Rajasthan’s best-kept secrets.

Another would be the quality of the state’s infrastructure. Rajasthan’s roads are already among the best in India and an expanding network of highways (as well as train, air and bus routes) promises more opportunities to veer off the beaten path. And for those less able or inclined to spend a fortune on renovated palaces, Rajasthan’s tourism board recently put together a list of cheap and comfortable budget hotels in over two dozen cities across the state (see rajasthantourism.gov.in).

Confident that Rajasthan can win back the travelers lured away by modish yoga retreats and full-moon beach parties, my tour guide reveals his dream for Chittorgarh. He wants to repaint its faded walls, he explains, and install a sound-and-light show by the victory tower—in the manner of tourist-friendly restorations that have taken place at sites elsewhere in the state. I try not to be too encouraging. This is one place where the clamor of imaginary armies, and the bright flash of chimerical steel, is the only spectacle required.