India
This amazing structure sits just off the route toward a more prominent tourist attraction, notes Victoria Lautman in the last of her series of articles on India's stepwells. But as is true of so many of these marvels, Peena Mann ka Kund is more than worth a detour off a well-beaten path.
India's ancient stepwells were about much more than providing their thirsty communities with water. As Victoria Lautman discusses in the second of three articles on these structures, facilities including Rani ki Vav also served both men and women as multi-purpose gathering spots.
Unique to the Indian subcontinent, subterranean stepwells were devised as a response to a dramatic but predictable climate cycle that, especially in the arid western states, guarantees a bone-dry environment for most of the year, followed by weeks of drenching monsoon rains.
Establishing a reliable, year-round supply of fresh water required direct access to the water table. This was a simple proposition in areas where the ground water was close to the surface. But in particularly dry regions like modern-day Gujarat, Rajasthan and Haryana, water could be as much as nine stories underground.
The capricious weather generated extreme fluctuations in the water table, which might dwindle to a trickle for part of the year but become much more forceful in the rainy season. In order to access the precious resource regardless of the season, a well shaft was excavated to connect with the water at its lowest flow.
Next, flights of steps were built adjoining the shaft, allowing access during dry times, and when monsoons arrived, the steps gradually submerged as the water rose, and any descent was significantly shortened. At that point, stepwells doubled as temporary cisterns that retained water as long as possible until the cycle began again.
MULTI-PURPOSE ROOMS
As seen in Chand Baori - the example discussed in the first article in this series (click here) - stepwells were not only sophisticated and efficient water-harvesting structures, but also marvels of architecture, engineering and art. In addition, they performed many functions that went beyond simply providing water to their communities and significantly contributed to local quality of life.
They acted, for example, as cool retreats and shelter from the blistering heat, served as civic centers where the locals could gather. They could be subterranean Hindu temples and shrines or provide water for Muslim ablutions. Stepwells located along remote trade routes offered shelter and rest for caravans and pilgrims and a place for animals to water before the next leg of a journey.
Despite the understanding of why stepwells evolved and the roles they played, however, actual facts about their dates, their patrons and even their engineering is woefully lacking. They generally don't appear in historical records, which has resulted in guesswork and discrepancies amongst scholars.
Construction of other architectural sites, such as Emperor Akbar's 16th-century city, Fatehpur Sikri, are detailed in paintings from that time, showing the same humble, pre-industrial "technology" that would have been used for stepwells and are still seen on construction sites in many parts of India today: oxen, ramps, baskets and sheer manpower.
But building below ground is subject to far greater forces than above-ground structures, and excavating any stepwell must have been dangerous, a constant battle to withstand earth's thrust on all sides. The number of stepwells that collapsed during construction can never be known, but sinking the well shaft would have been a particularly delicate process.
Professor Kirit Mankodi, an expert on the incomparable Rani ki Vav stepwell (the visual focus of this article), describes a system in which masons were lowered in stages on wooden support rings, surfacing the walls with stone as they descended to the water table. When each level was complete and stabilized, soil was excavated from beneath the rings, which were then lowered to the next level - and so on until the masons reached the groundwater.
The final stage of the constructing the shaft would have been possible only during the driest season: At that point in the process, water was the enemy and had to be bailed out quickly. Logs were packed around the walls and on the floor to prevent seepage while the facing was completed. And all of this, of course, was predicated on the fact that the builders had sufficient knowledge to anticipate the depth of the water table.
THROUGH GENERATIONS
This water wisdom is an important part of India's technological heritage. The hydrological systems of the early Harappan civilization of the Indus Valley (c. 3300-c. 1700 BC) were among the oldest and most sophisticated on the planet, with ancient settlements showing evidence of drains and wells dating as far back as 2600 BC. (There is also evidence that dowsers were used in siting stepwells. These water diviners performed such services for centuries; as recently as the 1920s, the British colonial government in India employed such a person.)
Geology played an essential part of every stepwell design, which was based on the specific characteristics of each region. For instance, much of Gujarat's soil is soft, loamy clay, which required a significant shoring-up of walls. This explains the pavilion towers that are characteristic of so many Gujarati stepwells. Consisting of platforms supported by columns, these details may look purely decorative, but they were required to hold the subgrade walls in place. Sandstone blocks, often massive, were hewn to fit perfectly, mortar-free, and reinforced the structures so effectively that many have survived numerous earthquakes without collapsing - a thousand years or more since the first stones were set.
By contrast, Delhi's rockier, quartzite-rich terrain made the elaborate Gujarati interventions superfluous, with the most common construction material being rough-surfaced rubble masonry. The earliest example in the capital city - Gandhak ki Baoli - dates from the 13th Century.
Stepwells were commissioned predominantly by Hindu and Muslim patrons, with both faiths, as mentioned above, requiring the daily use of water. Many of the Hindu wells were subterranean temples, often incorporating mata (meaning "mother") in their names since, as in many religions, Hinduism equates the life-giving properties of water with fertility and the mother goddess. To this day there are specific water-oriented rituals performed to promote marriage and conception of children.
This accounts for the many "rani" stepwells throughout the country, one of which is the extraordinary Rani ki Vav in Gujarat, which translates into "Queen's Stepwell." It is without a doubt the most ornate, costly and grand example ever built, and after nearly a thousand years in obscurity, it is finally getting its due, having recently been designated the new "face" of India's 100 rupee note. Rani ki Vav even has its own Facebook page.
Commissioned by Queen Udayamati around 1063 to honor her powerful late husband, Bhimdev, this monument, located in the city of Patan, is so outstanding that it was granted UNESCO World Heritage Site status in 2014, one of only 37such sites in India. Given its location an easy hour's drive from the busy city of Ahmedabad, there's reasonable hope that architecturally curious visitors will be lured out to see it.
THE RANI'S BEQUEST
At 210 feet long and 89 feet deep, Rani ki Vav is among the most ambitious stepwell of all in scale alone. It is also the most ornate, incorporating hundreds of sculptures that adorn every surface: Carved deities, consorts, animals and geometric patterns are rendered in astonishing detail and are considered some of the finest work of their era. Udayamati's labor of love is all the more astounding considering that Patan lacks stone and each block was hauled from a quarry some 87 miles away.
It's little wonder - and not uncommon - that Rani ki Vav was cannibalized over the centuries, its various elements used in other structures including most notably the Bahadur Singh Barot ki Vav a few miles away.
This smaller stepwell may date from the early 19th Century, but the interior space is comprised of columns, pavilions and sculptures almost entirely plundered from the earlier stepwell.
Rani ki Vav is, for the moment, the lone stepwell with a known calamitous history - one that explains the plundering. It is estimated to have taken 15 to 20 years to build, but not long after completion, the stepwell's water source, the Saraswati River, changed course, swamped the stepwell and caused parts of it to collapse.
Resource:
For further reading, click here for details on my book, The Vanishing Stepwells of India (Merrell Publishers, London, 2017).
-- V.L.
The incomparable achievement gradually filled with mud and silt, so that by the time the British happened upon it in the 19th Century, only part of the well cylinder and some column stumps were visible above ground.
The catastrophe was, in a way, fortunate, since the lower levels were preserved in the process, not unlike Pompeii or Herculaneum. It was not until the Archaeological Survey of India undertook serious conservation work in the 1980s that the full splendor of Rani ki Vav was recognized - and the process of discovery, as you would imagine, was stunning.
Next time, we'll conclude this three-part series with a detailed look at another stepwell while exploring the legacy of this architectural form.
Victoria Lautman is a Los Angeles-based broadcast journalist, writer and lecturer. Focusing on all forms of art and culture including architecture, design, and literature, she frequently writes and speaks about India. Her book, The Vanishing Stepwells of India, was published by Merrell Publishers (London) in 2017. For more information, visit her website: www.victorialautman.com.
India's stepwells are truly amazing, but relatively few people know anything about them. Victoria Lautman wants to change all that, reporting on their long history in a book -- and in a series for WaterShapes on three of the country's most wondrous architectural and cultural treasures.
This edition of the WaterShapes newsletter carries two unusual articles. One is Victoria Lautman's piece on the stepwells of India; the other is Lauren Stack's look at water-related trends and the importance of helping more people learn to
Sloshed Brit Swims in River Directly in Path of Cargo Ship
I hesitated in starting the New Year with a Travelogue about a class of watershape that is located beyond easy reach of most readers and is, in addition, one I've never seen personally. But I ran across a reference to these structures a couple days ago, and I just can't get them out of my mind.
Many times in the past, WaterShapes has mentioned the fact that, hundreds of years ago, Islamic architects used fountains and runnels of moving water as air-conditioning systems in enclosed spaces (the Alhambra in Moorish Spain being the usual example). Hundreds of years before that, it seems, Indian architects achieved a similar effect with what they called baolis, or step wells.
For starters, I was a bit startled to find an approach to watershaping I'd never encountered before - but what truly blew my mind was the scale of these structures and the attention their designers paid to the aesthetics of what is basically a utilitarian water source. Indeed, step wells are literally that: structures in which water is reached by descending sets of steps. Found most often in western India, they also were built in other places in southern Asia as well as Pakistan.
Basically, they serve as graduated storage tanks that enabled communities to cope with seasonal changes in water availability: They filled with ground- or well water during the rainy season and were drawn down when the dry, hot weather returned each year. Unlike a classic western fountainhead, which gave a few people access to the water at a time, some of these step wells are huge and clearly enabled whole communities of people (and sometimes their animals) to get at the water at the same time.
and there was more even in hot weather, the body of water pit well cooled air, so grand watershapes became social hubs places to beat heat commune with friends, family acquaintances an office cooler on a scale.
The only similar structure I've seen in the United States is the Fort Worth Water Gardens, which I wrote about in the January 25, 2012 edition of this newsletter (click here). But Philip Johnson's project featured cascading water, which is distinctly something a classic step well didn't offer.
In any case, this is special watershaping - on the level of the Roman aqueducts in terms of importance to their communities. I hope you enjoy this introduction and, like me, think these places might be worth a road trip.
To see the brief video that introduced me to these amazing watershapes, click here - and do what you can to ignore the narrator's attempts at humor. And if you want more information, click here to see an unusually helpful Wikipedia trove of information and images.dsc+
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