Gigantic rocks that float in the middle of the sea have always fascinated me. Especially the ones that have been carved into sea forts. In the course of a long, arduous journey I discovered three of them. And as a just reward for all my efforts, I stumbled upon a coral reef right behind one of them.
The first of these was the fort of Janjira. Standing on the shifting sands of Murud beach, I gazed at the Arabian Sea and mistook the sea fort in front to be the invincible Janjira. But a fisherman on the beach told me that it was a fort called Padmadurg. Built by Sambhaji, it was meant to be the answer to the might of Janjira. But it turned out to be so weak that it was sliced into three desolate pieces by the cannons of the Siddis.
From the nearby Rajapur jetty, I took a boat to the fort of Janjira. It was a large catamaran that could easily carry up to 40 people. And it had large, flapping sails that were torn over time by the fury of the sea wind. As six boatmen struggled to get the sails up, and then to steady the boat that was pitching and rolling in the pre-monsoon wind, I marvelled at the indomitable spirit of the seamen of yesteryears.
It was on a stormy night in the 17th century that a ship carrying spice traders from Africa was washed ashore by tidal waves. When the local King of Murud, Rajaram Patil, refused to give them shelter, these fierce and fearless warriors called Siddis took it forcibly. They decided to stay put in Murud and have been here for three centuries; and the present Siddi Nawab of Murud continues to live in his palace on the hilltop.
Near this palace in a place called Gol Gumbaz are the tombs of the early Siddi rulers. Folklore has it that buried under these tombs is a treasure that can last twelve generations. The only catch in unearthing this treasure is that the person who digs it up should be able to read the Quran backwards without a pause. In case the gold digger doesn’t meet this simple criterion, he will have to face the curse of instant death or lasting madness.
The fort of Janjira stands 90 feet tall above the sea and 22 feet under. It took 22 years to build, is spread over 22 acres, and has 22 bastions to defend it. It’s considered ’ajinkya’ or inconquerable, as innumerable attacks were launched on it by the British, the Portuguese, and by the Marathas led by Shivaji, Kanhoji, Chimaji and Sambhaji, but all of them had to invariably beat a hasty naval retreat.
This fort is believed to have been built not as a naval base but as a structure to protect a Sufi saint named Peer Panchatan Baba, who used to sit and meditate on this rocky island. The first sight that you come across when you enter the fort is his tomb. And the guide in a hushed whisper tells you that the power of the saint is undiminished till date. During the height of monsoon even today, tidal waves rise up to 40 feet in the sea but when they enter the fort their height is reduced to 20 feet, and they miraculously stop at his feet. A mystical occurrence or an engineering marvel, one wonders.
Suvarnadurg, the second sea fort in my list, was off Harnai, arguably the busiest port on the coast of Konkan. With every country boat in sight involved in either trading their wares or in auctioning the catch of the night, I scanned the horizon for a friendly and willing boatman who would row me across to the fort floating in the sea. And I met an old man in the sea, too old to go for fishing, but too young to give up rowing. He readily agreed and we set sail. Looking at the camera slung across on my shoulder, he asked me gingerly if I would like to see dolphins. And without waiting for my answer, he changed course and headed straight into the deep sea.
There was no sign of them anywhere, but his instinct guided his oars. Suddenly, out of the blue sea there appeared one, nay two, frolicking dolphins. And they kept disappearing and appearing at will. They were so unpredictable that not once could I click a half-decent picture. To make matters worse, every time they surfaced they had a benign smile on their faces, as if telling me, ’Fooled you again!’
The boat soon landed on the shimmering white sands of the beach at the edge of Suvarnadurg. The main entrance to the fort was so well camouflaged that you don’t see it till you are at a cannon ball’s distance. As I got down into the shallow waters, I saw the sight of a white-bellied sea eagle swooping down on a fish that had come up for a breath of fresh air. That turned out to be its last breath.
Built by the King of Bijapur in the 16th century and conquered by Shivaji in the 17th, this is the fort that launched a thousand naval battles. And it was from here that the legendary naval admiral of the Marathas, Kanhoji Angre, repulsed a virulent attack by the Siddis of Murud.
The famed guerilla strategy of the Marathas is evident in the very structure of this fort. It’s replete with a maze of escape routes called ’Chor Darwazas’. Soldiers would retreat through these routes, reach the mainland through a sea tunnel and ask for additional reinforcements. Thus was won many a naval battle in Suvarnadurg.
The last of the forts was Sindhudurg, the jewel in the crown of the Maratha Empire. Built under the personal supervision of Shivaji, it’s a fort of immense strength. Its foundation is laid in solid lead, and its walls are reinforced with 1500 tonnes of iron. But despite being an architectural marvel, it could never be consecrated as the naval headquarters of the Maratha Empire because of the curse of a local priest.
Inside the fort, you can literally see the lasting impression left behind by Shivaji. His footprints and handprints have been preserved here in limestone for posterity. Another unique thing about this fort is that there is a temple where Shivaji himself is the deity. As you walk into the sanctum sanctorum and look at the idol, you realize that the idol looks less like the Shivaji you know and more like his Malvani cousin.
But the best part of the journey was kept for the last. The enthusiastic boatman-guide took me on a round trip of the rocky island, and to my utter disbelief I saw the amazing sight of impeccable beaches laced with white, sparkling sand, all around the island. And right behind the fort was the most pristine of them all, with coral reefs submerged in the turquoise blue waters. As I chanced upon a family snorkelling near a coral reef, the world shrunk by a thousand miles, and right in front of me, right on the coast of Konkan, I saw the breathtaking beauty of the Andamans.
