The Cambridge History of India, Vol. III: Turks and Afghans v3.c30.s1.5.3

v3.c30.s1.5.3

Even the domed gateways, which usually interrupt the long lines of cloisters, are absent, the only entrances into this remarkable masjid being two small doorways in the back wall for the use of the king, a small arched opening for the public in the middle of the east side, and another public entrance, probably added as an afterthought, at the south-east corner. Imagine, too, the interior of the cloisters divided into 375 bays—five deep on the western and three deep on the other sides—each a replica of its neighbour and each roofed by a precisely similar dome, with no variation whatsoever except where a royal gallery (*bādshāh-kā-takht*) extending over eighteen bays in the northern wing of the prayer chamber is carried on ponderous pillars of Hindu pattern. Surely no place of worship was ever devised of such magnitude and with so little sense for the beautiful! Considered by themselves, the several parts and the details are admirable enough: the arcaded aisles, for instance, are dignified; the vaulted *līwān* is well proportioned and pleasing and the mihrāb is as exquisite a piece of carving as can be found in India. But no amount of perfection in its parts can compensate for the lack of organic composition and due proportion in the economy of the whole. Its design, as Cunningham rightly observed, is more suitable for a caravansarai than a mosque. It is monotonous and commonplace.