please give me the story salim and tansen
Answers
so here's ur ans...
The men literally threw themselves in front of our speeding jeep as the driver deftly swerved to the left, almost averting an accident on the highway. Jolted out of our wits, we looked at the calm driver, rather astonished as he remarked nonchalantly, “Be prepared for more such nakhras.” Another man almost brushed his arm against the rear view mirror as the empty highway spread out in front of us.
We were still a few kilometers away from Emperor Akbar’s erstwhile capital, Fatehpur Sikri, as the driver inducted us a bit into the ways of the world here. We learnt that the men were guides attempting to stop the vehicle forcibly so that they could be hired by the tourists . I thought that it was rather a desperate attempt, but when we reached the site, we were just mobbed. The guides flung themselves upon us, shouting their lungs out, almost threatening us to hire them.
We managed to get away, but they followed us, meekly as lambs when they realised aggression led them nowhere. Finally, out of sheer desperation, we hired the most soft-spoken guide out of the lot. And he did turn out to be a storyteller.
Sikri, the ancient town, was the home of the Sufi saint Salim Chisti who lived in a cavern here. Legend has it that Akbar visited him in the 16th century to seek his blessings for a male heir. And it was in answer to those prayers that Jahangir was born here, as Salim. Akbar went on to forge a bond with the town and built his capital town here in dazzling red sandstone. Fatehbad, which took more than 15 years to be constructed, eventually became Fatehpur Sikri, a ghost town abandoned by Akbar after 14 years, probably due to shortage of water.
We were in Salim Chisti’s dargah listening to some of the musicians perform, their voices getting louder as they saw tourists pouring in. We wandered towards the Jama Masjid and Buland Darwaza, a 54m high gate built to commemorate the victory over Gujarat. Looking around at the edifices, palaces and assembly halls sparkling in red against the blue sky, I was still drawn to the music, drowning the murmurs and voices around. It was probably the expression on my face that the guide abruptly stopped his monologue and asked us to follow him.
And there I saw it, an ornamental pool filled with water with a central platform connected by bridges to many monuments. Standing in front of the Anup Talao, it seemed for a moment that Akbar’s court had come alive, as I imagined the legends of Birbal, the minister, and Tansen, the musician.
The guide later told me that this was where Tansen regaled the court with his music. Seated in the island in the centre of the pond, he used to sing four different ragas during the day. The musically-inclined guide broke into a song himself, and we laughed over the stories of Birbal and Akbar. Suddenly history was forgotten amidst lore. Did Tansen charm Akbar’s daughter Mehrunissa and marry her eventually? Did he really make the clouds melt with rain with raga Megha Malhaar? Did he really die when he was engulfed by the fire that broke out when he was singing raga Deepaka?
History doesn’t really answer these questions, but very often these are the stories that linger in our minds. I came here to see the capital town of Akbar as my history textbooks had painted it, but left with images of Tansen from Amar Chitra Katha.
I suppose ur satisfied now?
Answer:
There's your answer Swipe up