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Imagine being inside a cavity forty feet deep in the earth! At that subterranean depth, the air feels humid. There are bats literally hanging around. Sunlight flits through from gaps above. And then you see a figure on one side. Sounds like something out of a sequel to "The Conjuring"? Except that this isn’t!
That’s what one feels like inside the carved depths of an ornate medieval stepwell in Gujarat. Called "vavs," stepwells appear across arid stretches of the coastal state. The world finally woke up to the magical, underground setting of these stepwells in 2013, when the Rani-ki-vav, in Patan, was accorded UNESCO World Heritage status.
The event brought tourists in large numbers to the banks of the Saraswati River, where the 11th century CE Rani-ki-Vav is located. But in the decade that has gone by, an opportunity to showcase the larger narrative around the state’s step-wells has been missed.
The ornate Rani-ki-vav is not in isolation but is merely the finest manifestation of a centuries-old step-well building technique. In an arid region such as Gujarat, that technique was experimented with and fine-tuned to near perfection. The patron builders of vavs were not just royals but also merchants—eager to demonstrate their wealth and status with such acts of public service.
The basic step-well was when an aquifer was identified and a vertical shaft dug till water found, forming a well. Then, to make it easier for women to reach the water, a downward-sloping, horizontal path was created towards the well. In the monsoon, water would come up to the brim of the shaft and the beginning of the path. In the dry season, women would have to often walk the entire length of the path to draw water from the well itself. We went around the state looking at how the step-well had evolved and been repurposed:
Inside Junagarh’s Uparkot fort is a classic example of the most basic step-well. Officially, the Adi Kadi Vav is a 15th century CE creation and is sans any embellishment. In real terms, it may be much older. The path to the well is cut straight out of the rock.
Walking downward towards the well-shaft feels a bit like an Indiana Jones experience, and it has a legend to match. The story goes that when the well was dug, water did not emerge from its depths. At this point, on the advice of priests, two unmarried girls—Adi and Kadi, apparently servants of the royals here—were sacrificed. And then water burst forth.
A minor port town on the Saurashtra coast, Mangrol retains a seafaring tradition with wooden vessels being made and repaired all along the seafront. In the heart of this old town is a Jama Masjid which dates to 1383-84, a time when Gujarat was part of the Delhi Sultanate ruled by the Tughlaks.
For a mosque, its courtyard has an uncommon sight—a vav with a flight of steps leading downwards. Two pavilion towers crown the step-well, almost like two doorways to go down—the inner one of which is ornate with delicate stone carving. The presence of water at the bottom of the well indicates the aquifer is still active.
Amazingly, the vav remains in use. In front are two small water tanks, complete with taps. There is no evidence of pipes anywhere and locals say that water drawn from the well is poured into the tanks, and is used for drinking. There is no sign of any filtration process of this water making it truly incredible that such a source of potable water exists in this day and age.
Before Independence, Wadhwan, in Surendranagar district, was a tiny princely state complete with royals and their own flag. Remnants of its rich past survive and one of those is the elegant Madha Vav. Tucked away in a corner of the town and hemmed in closely by houses, the vav is a magnificent structure.
The mostly-subterranean structure has as many as six pavilion towers. Called kutas, the pavilion towers are richly carved, with tapering roofs. The place is dotted with Hindu iconography, in niches, walls and on doorway lintels. While most of these have faded with time, one can still make out a Bhairava, an outline of the Vishnu’s incarnations – the Dashavataras, the nine planets represented as the Navagrahas and the Saptamatrikas. Two of the idols, including a large depiction of Hanuman, remain in worship.
The construction of the Madha dates back to 1294 and is attributed to Madhava, the minister of the local Vaghela ruler. In the depths of the vav is a small depiction of a man and a woman, believed by some to be Madhava and his wife. Other accounts are more ghoulish, with shades of Adi and Kadi. Local lore holds that no water emerged from the vav for twelve long years after it was dug.
Local fortune-tellers said that a ‘perfect’ married couple—in terms of character—would need to sacrifice themselves in the well— for water to emerge. An unfortunate couple was identified—some accounts say they were Madhava's son and daughter-in-law, while others speak of them as a local prince and his consort. A popular local ballad says that as the duo took the last few steps into the depths of the well, water began to rise and eventually, it drowned them at the bottom level.
Not far from Wadhwan is the village of Rampura. The vav just outside the inhabited area no longer has any water within, but so ornate is its iconography that it is now a place of worship.
From a distance, little of the subterranean shrine is visible. Up close a series of pavilion towers come into view. A void of sorts in the front indicates a lost gateway. As one enters the first pavilion tower, on either side are alcoves containing iconography. However, thick layers of paint have so obscured the carvings that they are unrecognizable. Easier to identify is a magnificent sculpture depicting Shesasayi Vishnu, lying neglected at the foot of one of the alcoves. Carved on the same stone as the Vishnu is a depiction of the Navgrahas – the nine planets represented as divine beings.
Rampura’s 15th century CE step-well is called the Ratala vav, and its precise dating is the result of an inscription mentioning a ruler of the time. Sadly, while the highest level of the vav is as clean as a shrine, as one descends, the iconography fades, and it seems the reverence of the village folk also declines—the lower pavilion towers are dark, dirty and moist.
Not all the water structures in the state are humid and dark places. The Gangvo Kund in Surendranagar’s Dedadara dates to the 9th century CE. More stepped tank than a vav, the structure is a deep, rectangular depression in the ground, paved with stone all the way down and surrounded at surface level by a flat stone platform. The kund is considered a sacred place, and has temples built at each corner. Its water is surprisingly clean too! Around the kund are hero stones with inscriptions dedicated to warriors. Their battles are long forgotten, yet their memorial stones remain.
The Gangvo Kund comes alive in the evenings. Villagers come together and discuss worldly matters. Groups of women offer prayers at the shrines. Peacocks sing in the background. And children jump into the pool. Dedadara shows the way about how a water structure can be celebrated.
We round off the exploration by checking out Ahmedabad’s Netherworld. The city, especially its older parts, is dotted with step-wells. While some like the Dada Harir Vav in Asarwa are still in their original form, several have been transformed into temples while retaining the step-well design. Several of these shrines are dedicated to goddesses, such as the Mata Bhavani ni vav and Khodiyar Mata ni vav.
The best hidden is perhaps the Amritavarshini vav. Hidden because it is built alongside the old city’s Panchkuva Darwaza! Given this proximity to one of Ahmedabad’s walled city gateways, it is entirely probable that it was built for the benefit of travellers entering the city from here, offering nectar-like water to them, hence the name. It was built in 1723 under the patronage of Raghunath Das, diwan to Haidar Quli Khan, the Mughal-appointed governor of Gujarat province.
Descending into its depths, one comes across an odd feature. The passage below takes an unexpected left turn, coming to an abrupt end at the well-shaft. Peering above, one sees a structure projecting—the wooden mechanism on which a rope and bucket would have enabled people to draw water up. The rope is gone, the mechanism long being in disuse.
The reason for the left turn is unclear. Did the builders of the vav make a calculation error in digging the stepped passage to the aquifer, necessitating a turn towards the source of water? Or was it a deliberate design? These questions remain unanswered, like all of Gujarat’s stately vavs, this one too remains an island of calm amidst the noise and bustle outside.
