In Xanadu

 Title: In Xanadu – A Quest

Author: William Dalrymple

Publisher: Penguin, 2004 (First published 1990)

ISBN: 978-0-143-03107-9

Pages: 302

Dalrymple is always welcome for an Indian reader. Most of his books are on Indian topics or very much related to its ethos in a subtle way. In fact, he enjoys a rather high level of tolerance from desi readers as against many western authors when they go on a critical assessment of the experiences they had had in this country. Dalrymple do present many of his experiences in a not too flattering light, but the recounting will be in such a caressing way that not even overly sensitive people get offended by it, as they can clearly see the love and affection the author possesses towards this ancient nation. However, the present book is the very first one from the author’s able hands and depicts his journey across the breadth of Asia, retracing the footsteps of the 13^th century Venetian merchant, Marco Polo from Syria on the west to Xanadu (Shang-tu) in the east of China. The journey covers 19000 km mostly across deserts and arid zones of Central Asia amidst a string of neighbouring countries hostile to each other or actually at war. Polo had undertaken the trip obliging a request from Kublai Khan, the grandson of Genghis Khan, who established Mongol rule over most of Asia. Kublai Khan requested religious philosophers from the Pope and in a bid to proselytize the emperor, Polo obtained a sample of oil from the lamps glowing in the Church of Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem so as to present it as a relic. Even this little detail was noted and copied by the author before beginning his own version of the epic travel.

Polo began the trip in 1271 with the oil sample and Dalrymple illuminatingly point out the profane activities and inter-church rivalries between various congregations which are allowed to offer services at the Holy Sepulchre. He notes with amusement at the irreverence of the young prefect entrusted with topping up of oil in the ever-glowing lamps from which he managed to obtain a small quantity. He declares that there is nothing magical in the oil, that it is ordinary sunflower oil and passes some lasciviously oblique comments about the author’s lady companion, even while inside one of the holiest shrines of Christianity. This is also one of the factors which led the author to claim that for 2000 years, Jerusalem has brought out the least attractive qualities in every race that has lived there. The holy city has had more atrocities committed in it than any other town in the world (p.18). These remarks apply equally well to any holy city of any religion.

Polo traveled from Jerusalem to Syria on his onward journey, but that is unthinkable in today’s Middle East. If Israeli visa is stamped on the passport, Syria and Iran will not let you through. So the author and his friend went back to Cyprus and boarded a ferry to Syria. He describes with a high sense of humour his travels along pot-holed roads of Turkey and marvels at the civilizational progress it had obtained in the middle ages. The Shifaiye Medresse was built in 1217 as a medical school and there was nothing remotely comparable in Europe at this time, even the outstanding Italian medical school at Salerno. European architecture, or many facets of it, like the pointed arch which is a key feature of Gothic style is derived from Islamic architecture.

Traveling in 1986, while the Iran – Iraq war was raging and amidst a xenophobic Persian mindset nourished by the revolutionary mullahs, journey through Iran proved irksome to the author. Professing strict adherence to medieval dogmas and codes of practice, both him and his girlfriend found Iran to be rigid, playing mullah’s speeches in public transport systems and irksome for women. It is however, to be noted that the people were as friendly as any other and helpful, though the author finds them to be possessing a tinge of effeminacy (p.162). Polo’s route turned to Afghanistan from there, but it was inaccessible to Western tourists because of the Soviet occupation of the country and the vast minefields they had set up on the border regions. Instead, they traveled through Pakistan towards north to catch up with the ancient caravan route.

The traveling party was put to great trouble by the intricate rules of Chinese bureaucracy. Most of the route through which they traveled was strictly off limits for foreigners in 1986. Local police harassed them and arrested them on more than one occasion. Dalrymple humorously narrates how they managed to hoodwink the not-so-alert policemen and continued their travel by hitch hiking, too afraid to use public transport. Such foolhardy acts of defiance was bound to end up in long prison sentences in undemocratic countries like China, but the author and his readers were fortunate enough to survive to tell and hear the story. China seems to be justified in taking such precautions as the route coincided with one of China’s nuclear testing sites and the author claims to have observed people suffering from harmful effects of radiation. The veracity of the claim could not be proved however. The team experienced their greatest despair when they were again arrested near Shang-tu (Xanadu, in Coleridge’s poem) – their final destination. Having come 19000 kilometers, only to be arrested and deported just 8 km from the ruins of Kublai Khan’s medieval palace was heartbreaking. The police took pity on them and transported them to the ruins in their own vehicle, but didn’t allow to photograph the place. Dalrymple managed to pour the oil he’d collected from Jerusalem over the ground where the Great Khan’s throne was supposed to stand.

The author gives a little too much attention to finer details of architecture whenever he is near a dilapidated structure, whether it is a disused mosque, damaged Medresse or a caravanserai. He is quite adept on the nuances of architecture and delights in presenting the similarities and contrasts between various schools of architecture, which is not so close to the hearts of readers.

Dalrymple is so adroit in delightful depictions of travel experiences, and his narration of travel in China in 1986, the year in which he actually traveled there, is quite revealing by comparison with today’s realities. Beijing was still a city of bicycles when they reached there and its transformation to a bustling metropolis is mind boggling. Perhaps if the author would care to retrace the entire journey and note the changes alone, that itself would prove to be another classic in travel writing. The book contain a set of monochrome plates of sights on the way and is graced with a good glossary.

The book is highly recommended.

Rating: 4 Star