The first thought of anyone going to Samthar during the monsoon would be to wish that there was something to record smell with. Of the five senses, there is enough equipment to capture sights and sounds in this day and age. Even taste and touch can be experienced if the source object is reproduced. But there is absolutely nothing with which one can recreate the experience of nature’s wonderful smells.
To a traveller, it is the smell which makes Samthar special – at least till he gets to the town. For a distance of about six km while driving there, the road is bordered by green fields on both sides and from them comes a strong smell, bitter and sweet at the same time.
It hits you suddenly and can be quite startling if you have never smelt it before. This is the smell of peppermint, grown around here as a cash crop. Though somewhat damaging to the soil, it helps the farmers make relatively easy money in the rather arid Bundelkhand region.
The smell goes as suddenly as it comes and I find myself in Samthar. The place is little more than an overgrown village, though the lanes are surprisingly wide. A few twists and turns and I am face-to-face with a fort that is today the sole evidence of Samthar’s heritage.
Said to have been founded by Shamsher, a commander in Babar’s army, who built a small fort here, the town draws its name from a combination of its founder’s name and the fact that it is built on ‘samtal’ or flat land.
The place remained obscure for ages as a vassal state of Datia. Only in 1785, when the Bundelkhand region was seeing a tug of war between the Scindia of Gwalior and Datia’s rulers that the Samthar chief skillfully manoeuvred his tiny fiefdom into breaking away from the latter.
Thereafter, it was a continuous test of diplomatic and negotiating skills to retain independence and Samthar’s kings proved equal to the task. First came an agreement with the Peshwa who bestowed the Samthar ruler the title of ‘Raja’. By 1817, the East India Company’s star was on the ascendant and Samthar signed a treaty with the Company to retain considerable autonomy at a time when far larger kingdoms were being swallowed up.
Then came 1857 and Samthar set such a benchmark in managing relationships with two opposing sides that our Ministry of External Affairs would do well to make the episode into compulsory reading for budding diplomats. With the conflict at its peak, the queen-regent of Samthar, Lallan Ju, not only helped Lakshmibai of Jhansi with horses en route to Kalpi, she also gave sanctuary to the British in her fort!
Consequently, in the retribution-filled years that came after 1857, Samthar was left alone. In the Delhi Durbar of 1877, Samthar’s ruler was given the title of ‘His Highness’ along with an 11-gun salute. A significant change came in 1864 when the welfare-minded Chhatar Singh came to the throne and ruled for over 30 years, during which he brought Samthar from the medieval age to a modern era.
Today, the signs of that era of welfare are visible and the ruler’s descendant continues to be acknowledged by locals as ‘Raja’. While the era of princes is long-over, the raja’s fort continues to be an interesting place. I call it ‘raja’s fort’ as the royal family continued to reside here after independence and somehow, the family has retained control over the place till today.
On the face of it, the place is not welcoming. Plaster has peeled off the walls, the moat looks green with scummy vegetation, large open spaces within the fort precincts are overgrown with wild plants and numerous random people appear to have taken up their residence within the place.
But scratch the surface and you see another version. The walls and battlements remain strong, harking back to a time when they deterred attackers. Parts of the moat too are free from green mess, thus making visible its depth and keeping the fort free from the kind of encroachment that has ravaged many other monuments in India.
Most significantly, most of the buildings within the fort are intact, retaining their original shape. While the inner royal apartments are out of bounds for visitors, I found enough signs among the structures in outer parts of the fort to indicate the potential of the place.
Walking into Samthar fort, the most arresting visible structure is a seven-storey tower that once had the royal apartments. Going by the condition of its outer walls, it is unlikely that anyone lives there anymore. The royal family has found better living quarters elsewhere the fort.
When you walk into Samthar fort, the most arresting structure visible is a seven-story high tower which once housed the living quarters of the king. Going by the condition of its outer walls, it is unlikely that anyone lives within any more and the royal family has found more comfortable living quarters elsewhere the fort.
Both this tower and the living quarters being inaccessible to visitors, I concentrated on the rest of the fort. A walking path led from beside the tower into the fort, via a gateway in the walls. From that point onwards, it was a journey of discovery.
At every corner of the fort overlooking the ramparts and moat below, are covered pavilions the ceiling of each of which is covered in rich paintings made in an era when building construction and décor was done with a lot more affection than it is done in today’s ‘booming’ age.
Most of the space on the ceilings is cornered by the kings, who have been depicted here at their macho best. They are sometimes shown at war, sometimes on the hunt but at all times appear armed and ready to fight. Some space is shared by queens and on one wall is a painting depicting a person who is obviously a European, possibly someone who may have lived here for a while during the ‘treaty’ years.
The pavilions at the back of the fort give a little more space to religion with scenes from famous mythological stories being depicted here. If one were to shut the mind to the vegetation that covers the path connecting the painted pavilions, the overall effect would be that of a living art gallery minus the curator.
That word – curator – is the operative one in Samthar for the fort truly needs someone to play that role. While the fort’s heritage has managed to survive so far, signs of decay are unmistakable. Already, the walls of the painted pavilions are hit hard by moisture and the colours of the paintings are beginning to feel the effect of the resultant dampness.
The plaster is dropping in places and there are scratches cutting right across some paintings. What the ruler needs to do is to use the foresight his ancestors were famous for and get some outside help in assisting him to realize the true value of his property.
If the place was to be temporarily handed to an organization that understands built heritage and which has the trained manpower to restore it – such as the Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) – it could become a vibrant tourist spot.
The potential here is so much that the ruler could well make a heritage hotel out of this fort. In fact, that is the only way to conserve the fort for posterity and to make the conservation process self-funding. Walking on the ramparts, I could well imagine coming back here one day and relaxing in a painted pavilion on a mild winter day. It needs foresight, but then that is something the Samthar rulers have had in plenty. So hold your breath, one day you might be able to smell the peppermint too.
