The Cambridge History of India, Vol. III: Turks and Afghans v3.c30.s1.17

Language: English

v3.c30.s1.17.1

But if the difficulty of compromising with Islamic ideals was felt over their tombs, still more was it felt over the designing of their mosques, where an added stumbling-block was provided by the minaret—a feature which the Gujarātī architect never managed to handle with complete success. Even at the *Jāmi‘ Masjid* of Ahmad Shāh the minarets, when they existed, were in doubtful taste, and half a century later these features had become still heavier and more cumbersome in relation to the rest of the structure. This is a blemish that we have already noticed at Mahmūd Begarha’s great *masjid* at Chāmpānīr, but it is just as conspicuous in contemporary mosques at Ahmadābād, such as those of Miyān Khān Chishtī (1465), Bībī Achut Kūkī (1472) or Bāī Harīr (1500). In all of these, as well as in most other mosques of this period, the minarets were placed on either side of the central archway, as they had been in earlier examples; but in this position they so impaired the symmetry of the façade that in some later examples they were omitted altogether, while in others they were shifted from the centre to the front corners of the building. So long, however, as their old dimensions were preserved, this last solution was no better than the first; for whether the mosque took the form of a pillared hall like that of Sayyid ‘Usmān (1460) or an arched and vaulted one like that of Shāh ‘Ālam, the towering minars at the corners were bound to overpower the rest of the structure.

v3.c30.s1.17.2

The fact was that minars of such dimensions could not by any conceivable means be brought into harmony with the design of the prayer chamber, unless the latter was to be radically altered. This is the reason why in some of the later mosques, such as that of Muhāfiz Khān, we find the height of the minarets reduced and that of the prayer chamber increased—much to the advantage of the composition as a whole. It was not, however, until the minaret was transformed into a merely ornamental and symbolic appendage that the problem from an aesthetic standpoint was successfully solved and then only at the expense of utility. Mosques with this form of ornamental minaret first made their appearance at Ahmadābād in the opening years of the sixteenth century, the best example and one of the earliest being that of Rānī Sīparī (1514) which belongs to the reign of Muzaffar Shāh II, while another was the mosque of Shāh Khūb Sayyid (1538). The former was judged by Fergusson to be one of the most exquisite structures in the world, and his judgement was not exaggerated. East or West, it would be difficult to single out a building in which the parts are more harmoniously blended or in which balance, symmetry and decorative rhythm combine to produce a more perfect effect.

v3.c30.s1.17.3

The mosque is a small one—only 48 feet by 19½ feet—but this very smallness is an asset in its favour, since the delicate traceries and jewel-like carvings of Gujarāt, suggestive as they are of an almost feminine grace, show to less advantage in bigger and more virile structures. Another relatively small but equally famous monument of Mahmūd Begarha’s reign¹, in which these traceries are seen to perfection, is the mosque of Sīdī Sayyid. In form this mosque is unusually plain and chaste: merely an inarched chamber, five bays wide and three bays deep, its arches supported on squared pillars, or pilasters; plain octagonal minarets (now level with the roof) at the two fore corners; and the interior lighted by demilune windows of pierced stone work. Anything more simple and unassuming, or more unlike the richly adorned mosque of Rānī Sīparī could hardly be imagined. But though such simplicity is rare enough in Gujarāt, there is no mistaking the Gujarātī genius in the graceful well proportioned arches and superbly designed window screens (Pl. XXIX). It is these screens that have made the mosque of Sīdī Sayyid world-famous. Ten of them, namely, three in each of the side walls and two in the end bays of the rear wall, are divided into small square panes, filled with ever varying foliate and geometric patterns.

v3.c30.s1.17.4

The other two—one to the right and one to the left of the central mihrāb—are adorned with free plant and floral designs, the like of which does not exist in any other monument of India. What makes these windows so supremely beautiful is the unerring sense for rhythm with which the artist has filled his spaces and the skill with which he has brought the natural forms of the trees into harmony with their architectural setting. Such half conventionalised designs, it is true, are familiar enough in India. They are found commonly on textiles, silver and brass relief work and the like, but this is the only instance of their elaboration in stone and the wonder is that so exquisite a method of screening window openings, having once been hit upon, was never afterwards repeated.