The city of Mandu is perched on top of a hill. It is fun to climb up slowly, getting the feel of the countryside around. It is particularly magnificent after the monsoon, with its dark grandeur in the midst of the richness of the surrounding fields and the many hues of green from the trees and shrubs.

A few centuries back, there was a wild jungle in the vicinity where the emperors of India would go hunting. In those times, lions roamed this jungle. When camps were set up on the hillside, lions would wander through them at night. But now there are no lions left. Most have been shot by man.

Along the crest of the hill lie the pavilions and palaces and the mosques and tombs of Mandu. Built of stone and decorated with painted plaster, they were once resplendent buildings. Today they look dark and on occasion, even sullen, having known better times. Once their halls echoed to the sounds of music and of girls dancing; to the footfalls of the horses returning from the hunt or from a battle; to the call to prayer from its many mosques; to the sounds of the bustling traders who came long distances and continued their travel to far away places, halting and exchanging goods and gossip at Mandu; or to the even softer sounds of people in quiet conversation.

Today one walks from building to building to the echoes of the past. There is the deep baoli, or well, with its underground rooms and passages where people moved in the heat of the summer to keep cool. The large tanks and ponds had elaborate platforms and walkways for there would be evenings of singing and dancing. On the extreme edge of the hill, overlooking the plain, is the palace of Rupamati and this has its own story.

Afghan Kings ruled from the city of Mandu. One among them, Baz Bahadur, is specially remembered by the people of Malwa because he was different from the others. He had little time for battles and for court matters. What he valued most was his love for Rupamati and the music which they heard together. Their story is told in the ballads and songs of Malwa to this day.

One day Baz Bahadur was out hunting a lion. The chase took him deep into the forest. He lost track of the lion and whilst he was trying to find his way back to Mandu, he suddenly heard the sound of a woman singing. He followed the voice and came to a spot in the forest where he saw the woman who was singing so beautifully. This was Rupamati.

Baz Bahadur came often to the forest to see her and to hear her sing. He loved her deeply and wanted her to come to Mandu with him. At first she refused. Finally, she said that she would do so if he could take her river up to Mandu. This was the River Rewa, which flowed through the plains near Mandu and on whose banks she had grown up. What she asked for was the impossible, for no one can take a river up a hill.

Baz Bahadur thought of every possible solution. He even prayed to the Rewa to help him. Eventually he was told that there was a tamarisk tree on the hill and beneath this tree was a spring from which the water flowed into the Rewa. But there were many tamarisk trees. After much searching, Baz Bahadur found the right one with a spring and this became the pool which he called the Rewa�kund. Thus he had found a source and the water flowing from the pool eventually led to the river. In this way he claimed that he had brought the Rewa up to Mandu. Rupamati came joyfully to live in the palace which was built for her beside her beloved river.

Years passed and Baz Bahadur and Rupamati were wrapped in their love for each other and in the music which they composed and heard. Meanwhile, the Mughal emperor Akbar was anxious to control Mandu and rule over Malwa. So he sent his army, commanded by his redoubtable general Adham Khan. Mandu was besieged and a battle began. Baz Bahadur tried to defend his city but failed and in the midst of battle, he was cut off from Mandu. Having lost the battle, he fled to a place near Rupamati�s home, thinking that perhaps Rupamati might be able to join him there.

But Adham Khan moved swiftly into Mandu. Rupamati�s fame had spread even to the Mughal court and he was anxious to see her and hear her sing. So he gave orders that she was not to be allowed to get away. Having secured her in her palace, he sent a request to her that he wished to spend some time with her. Rupamati was terrified, as she knew what this meant. The victor seldom treated those close to his defeated opponent with any mercy. She also knew that Adham Khan would try to lure Baz Bahadur to Mandu by using her presence as a bait.

To begin with, she kept making excuses and tried not to see Adham Khan but he became more and more insistent. Eventually, she agreed. She dressed with care that evening, almost like a bride. The room was sprinkled with perfume and flowers. She said she wanted to rest for a short while before Adham Khan came to see her and so the maids withdrew.

After a while Adham Khan arrived, resplendent in his courtly dress, and entered her palace. He greeted her and asked if he could sit on the divan beside her. There was no reply from her. She did not stir. She had poisoned herself and had died, so anxious was she not to fall into the hands of the victor. She also feared that Baz Bahadur would try and see her secretly in Mandu and in the bargain, get killed. As it happened, Baz Bahadur was indeed killed soon after.

Songs about Rupamati continue to be sung in Malwa. And stories such as this one continue to be told. They may only partly be true but the memories of Baz Bahadur and Rupamati remain popular. If you go to Mandu on a clear day and stand in Rupamati�s pavilion, you can see the Rewa in the far, far, distance. And if you stay quietly and long enough you might perhaps, in your mind�s eye, even catch a glimpse of Rupamati and Baz Bahadur, standing on the same balconies and gazing out at the river which had bound them together.