Upon entering the gate, we turned a corner and immediately came to a halt at the staggering view. We had just stumbled upon one of the country’s hidden jewels, the Chanda Baodi step well, fronted by the eighth-century Harshat Mata Hindu temple. On three sides before the temple, a veritable maze of steps led to a pool of water, nearly 40 yards down. Once used as a royal bath and water supply fed by rain runoff that passed through an intricate system of filters, the water was now slimy and filthy, providing sustenance only for swifts, the white-and-gray birds that darted in and out of the now-forlorn red sandstone palace.
We climbed around the narrow overhangs, roughly two feet wide, that surrounded the well, gingerly stepping after each other more than four stories above the rancid water. As opposed to the frenetic bustle at the
Taj Mahal, Red Fort, and other famous Indian complexes, this place was eerily quiet and reserved. The temple’s rooms, which once housed nobles, now served as home to dozens of bats and various birds.
Above the steep pitch of the steps, several statues were stacked neatly behind the chain-link fence. The statues, which were formerly located in area religious sites, were recovered as part of an initiative by the Indian government to regain historical artifacts not irreparably damaged or sold off to private interests over the centuries.
After navigating the perimeter of the well on the nerve-rackingly small walkways, Ryan and I made our way inside the vacant temple. Bat guano and bird droppings created an almost-nauseating odor, but we soldiered through it to stick our heads into rooms and openings, trying to discover further clues into what had occurred at the place so many years earlier.
On the other side of the world from home, it was the mysterious side of
India we had hoped to experience.
Richard Oliver, a frequent contributor to American Way, is a senior writer and a columnist for the San Antonio Express-News.