Jajau: The forgotten Mughal inn with a blood-soaked past

On June 20th, 1707, Azam and Muazzam faced each other across an open field. Given the time of the year, the day must have been hot. Perhaps it rained a bit. But the weather did not deter the two adversaries, who were also brothers. Azam and Muazzam were not street-side goons in an ordinary fistfight. Both were princes and sons of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, and up for grabs in their battle was the throne of the empire. And on that battlefield, they weren’t alone – each had a formidable force behind him, numbering in the thousands.

By the end of the day, Azam and three of his sons lay dead, and Muazzam had given himself a higher place in life as Bahadur Shah I, the new Mughal Emperor. However, this story is not about either of the brothers but about the battlefield where they settled the issue. ‘Jajau’ may sound like a peculiar name but is a place that became the stage for this significant event in Mughal history. For this battle of succession, the warriors who lined up on either side read like a who’s who of political powers in north India. Including a contingent sent by Guru Gobind Singh himself to fight on the side of Muazzam.

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Today, at Jajau, there is no sign of a great battle having been fought. Located about thirty kilometres south of Agra on the highway that leads to Gwalior and beyond, Jajau is a hamlet visited by few. While this may look like a relatively recent highway, it is the successor of an old road network that connected various parts of the Mughal Empire. And a straggler from that mediaeval-era highway still marks the Jajau of 2025.

The Mughal highways were punctuated by caravan sarais – places where weary merchants could rest themselves and their pack animals, refresh themselves and move on, while paying a fee. Built like small forts and secured by a garrison, the place offered protection and a degree of comfort for travellers. Jajau is home to one such caravan sarai, and incredibly, the old building has managed to survive to a considerable extent.

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Located close to the Utangan River, the Jajau sarai’s structure conforms to the classical pattern of its type – square, punctuated by gateways to the north and south. Surrounded by a high, fortified wall, with cells for travellers to rest in. Inside the sarai, towards its western side, is a mosque built on a high elevated platform for the faithful to pray in.

What is lost in this sarai is its structural integrity. The sarai has been reduced to a hollow shell, intact only in appearance but seriously compromised from within. The elegant gateways and a tiny mosque are all that remain. The inside of the sarai now forms a large residential space for dozens of families, most of whom are agriculturists. From within, the place is like any other village of the region, with farm equipment and cattle next to most houses.

Like all caravan sarais of its time, the Jajau sarai too had cells for travellers built on its inside walls – 30 cells, in fact, lined each of its four walls. Those cells have now become integrated into the structure of the houses inside the sarai. Some inhabitants have even raised multiple storeys for their dwellings, complete with coolers. On probing, most residents claim to have been there for generations without any specifics as to a timeline. Asking questions about legal rights to stay within a heritage structure is a bad idea.

To those who ponder about the age of the Jajau caravan sarai, an Arabic inscription found on a marble slab on the qibla of the mosque gives us a date equivalent to 1674 CE. That puts the sarai in the time when Aurangzeb was reigning. A foreign traveller called John Joshua Ketelaar, visiting India in the 1711-13 period, left behind an account of spending a night at the Jajau sarai. As did Charles Malet and Joseph Tiefenthaler in 1785. Which means the sarai remained in use for its original purpose for well over a century.

It is well documented that in the increasingly anarchic years after the death of Aurangzeb, small rural communities moved into any available walled enclosure for protection. If the Jajau sarai managed to escape that till the end of the 18th century, it is perhaps because of being located close to Agra. In the 19th century, with the last vestige of Mughal authority vanishing, it was open season, and people moved into the sarai. The structure may have offered them protection against nocturnal marauders. And the community has stayed put ever since.

A short distance from the sarai and totally hidden from view is a baoli – a mediaeval stepwell made of red sandstone. The three-storey structure is in a state of neglect, being used as a place for storage by local farmers. Also close by is an old Mughal bridge, which also finds mention in travellers’ accounts of the area. In the mediaeval era, the bridge formed part of the Mughal highway network here, helping travellers cross the Utangan. Today, one has to search for the bridge. British traveller Peter Mundy mentions crossing the bridge in 1630-31, speaking of it as a large one with 20 stone arches. Tavernier crossed the ‘Jajau-ka-pul’ in 1665. Charles Mallet also describes the bridge in detail, mentioning the arches and speaking of two minarets at either end.

The heritage at Jajau is gradually crumbling, a victim of apathy. While technically, the caravan sarai may be on a protected list, it can only survive for posterity when the local community is given a stake in its survival. As of now, the heritage remains here as nothing more than an obstruction to the contemporary lifestyle every rural community aspires for.

The author is a heritage explorer with a penchant for seeking obscure sites. A brand consultant by profession, he tweets @HiddenHeritage. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.