“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” William Shakespeare uses this line in his play Romeo and Juliet to convey that the naming of things is irrelevant.
Disagree!
Clearly, we are all important, and so are our identities. The connection between name and identity is strong. How we feel about ourselves and the names that people call us are inextricably linked.
But what if we don’t refer to someone by their name? How does ‘anonymous’ sound? Painful right? So was this situation at Lohagad Fort.
Read on….
At a height of 3,450 feet above sea level, the fort is a military marvel and one of the best built forts of the Maratha Empire. Located in the mighty Sahyadri’s, Lohagad Fort divides Pavana - Indrayani basin and stands as a mighty gaurd to the trade route connecting the Deccan Plateau and Konkan.
At Lohagadwadi village the trek up to the fort summit starts proper, with a flight of steps winding up the face of a steep spur. Ganesh Gate is the first of four arched gateways that straddle the stairs up to the summit, the heavy teak doors studded with spikes to deter elephants. The second gate, known as Narayan Gate, where one can see a couple of small rock-cut caves on the left. Hanumant Gate is the third gateway reached on the steep climb up. This is possibly the oldest gateway of the series and therefore would have once been the main entrance to the fort. The final gateway in the series is Maha gateway, This is the largest of all the gateways, with some minor decoration and a small ruined court.
This is where I saw him. Between gasping for breath and sipping water, I saw him there, right near a big rock, cleaning the broken steps. Sporting a Khaki pant and a crisp white shirt, along with a Marathi Navdi, he was all peace and his lips curled into a smile unconsciously.
What in the world, at that altitude would someone clean broken steps for? I settled down on a smaller rock close by and stared at him for a while. He went from one broken step to another, sometimes from one rock to another, swinging the broom gracefully. I couldn’t hold back and asked him what he was doing.
‘Cleaning madam’ he said cheerfully.
I asked him why and he said ‘yeh mera dharam hai.’
Cleaning dusty rocks and broken steps at such an altitude, where one would hardly notice if they were kept clean or not felt silly. I left to complete the fag end of the hike, all hoping to find out more about the lone tomb on top of the mountain. Facing the Maha gate is the largest surviving structure within Lohagad Fort. I wasn’t able to learn the precise origins of this square stone mausoleum, nor were there any inscriptions. A local story suggests that it was originally a cenotaph in honour of Aurangzeb and one of his wives. While some claim that it is the tomb of Arab invader Shaikh Umar. I was disappointed for not being to complete the research or get answers about the tomb. The effort, vain. I wandered aimlessly all over the place. Glanced at the helpless ruins of a Shiv Linga and Nandi, stared deep into the step well, climbed up the scorpion ring, but the mind was restless going back to the name of the person buried inside the tomb.
Going down hill was easy but it was directionless. What was supposed to be a research trek to close on a story did not give me the answers. How can someone be buried without a name? Why wasn’t it passed on? Why was there no inscription? The name bothered me. The ‘anonymous’ was not sinking in. Tired, I sat on a small boulder watching the monkeys nibble on fruit. There I spotted him again. He was cleaning the next set of steps. Not a speck of dirt on the white and the lips curled into a smile.
I went up to him, ‘aapka naam kya hai?’, the name, I wanted to know the name, a name, some name.
‘Gaikwad’ he said.
Gaikwad. Mr. Gaikwad is the name of the person who cleans the steps of Lohagad Fort at a height of 3,450 feet above sea level. Unka dharam hai.
But, what’s in a name? Just about everything we do. Our blueprint.