Mughal Gate, Viratnagar: A Forgotten Heritage Gem Crying for Protection

Saurabh Tankha

Before I introduce you to yet another historical jewel hidden in the middle of nowhere, there is a small request I would like to make on behalf of heritage lovers like me. And this goes especially to officials of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), as well as the local police. Why can’t regular checks—if not 24×7, then at least from dawn to dusk—be ensured at ASI-protected monuments, particularly those located in remote areas but rich in historical importance? It is essential to keep anti-heritage elements at bay.

During my travels across the country, I have often noticed that either there is no caretaker assigned to these so-called “protected” monuments or, if there is one, he is conveniently missing. One only hopes for a day when visiting a protected site does not mean encountering broken liquor bottles, cigarette butts, and burnt ash.

A Journey to Viratnagar: Where History Meets Neglect

This time, I found myself in Viratnagar. It was founded by King Virat, under whose kingdom the Pandavas spent the 13th year of their exile in disguise. Viratnagar lies along the Delhi-Jaipur Expressway. Just after crossing the Government Hospital at Bhabru, about 200 km from Delhi, one takes a left turn onto a narrow, uneven road constructed under the Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojana.

Driving along this stretch once again raises a familiar question: why can’t long-lasting roads be built like highways and expressways, even if it means charging a toll? It took me about 35 minutes to cover a mere 20 km before I finally reached the Mughal Gate.

Mughal Gate: A Historical Puzzle from the Mughal Era

The Mughal Gate is believed to have been built in the 16th century by Raja Man Singh I, one of the nine jewels in the court of Akbar.

Interestingly, the structure is often described as a replica of the Taj Mahal. But how can that be? After all, Shah Jahan—Akbar’s grandson—commissioned the Taj Mahal only in 1632, long after the Mughal Gate was constructed. The site served as a halting place for Akbar during his hunting trips to Sariska Tiger Reserve & Ajmer.

Sadly, today, it seems to serve as a “halting place” for anti-social elements.

Architecture Amid Silence and Neglect

In the absence of a caretaker, I had to open the iron gates myself to drive in along what appeared to be a recently constructed pathway leading to the base of the monument. From the entrance, the Mughal Gate stood partially hidden behind three massive, centuries-old banyan trees—an evocative sight.

A short flight of stairs, about a dozen steps, led to the main structure, built on a raised platform nearly 10 feet high. The fresh paint on both the interiors and exteriors suggested that restoration work had been carried out not too long ago—proof that the ASI is doing its bit in terms of conservation.

But what about upkeep?

Two staircases—one wider than the other—lead to the first floor. Perhaps the wider one was meant for men and the narrower for women. The true highlight of this Mughal-era monument lies in the intricate artwork on its walls and ceilings.

Each of the four corners features a chhatri—a dome-shaped pavilion—likely used as watch points. At the centre stands a larger chhatri, supported by eight pillars and elevated on a platform of about three feet. One can easily imagine it being reserved for the emperor himself.

A Heritage Site Marred by Apathy

While I was pleased to see the structure in relatively good condition, the experience was marred by a disturbing sight. The parapet was littered with broken liquor bottles and cigarette butts—a stark reminder of neglect and lack of supervision.

It raises a pressing question: is restoration enough without maintenance?

Perhaps the authorities concerned will wake up from their slumber and ensure proper caretaking of such invaluable heritage sites. Until then, all one can do is hope.

Hidden gems like the Mughal Gate in Viratnagar are a testament to India’s rich and layered history. However, without consistent monitoring and civic responsibility, these monuments risk being lost—not to time, but to apathy.