It is undeniably impressive. Very impressive! So much so that it has moved many to write very descriptive prose about it. Kipling wrote of it saying that it must have been built by angels and giants. Huxely wrote that being here between heaven and earth must have been like the gods at Olympus.

Each Maharaja from the very first has added to the fort they have inherited. But the very first founder of the mountain top fort needed to evict the hermit that was living there before he could begin. Being 1459, and a desert people, his parting curse was taken very seriously. He shouted that there would always be a water shortage here and that they would suffer!

The king's priests whispered that only a human sacrifice would appease the gods and deflect the curse! The surprisingly good audio guide went on to say that a brave volunteer stepped forward and was buried alive in the foundations! Not only that but his descendants enjoyed a special relationship with the Fort ever since. Lucky him; he got a small plaque where he is apparently buried. The Maharaja's got a great big stonking fort with numerous palaces. Bum deal, me thinks!

But looking up towards the palaces perched on the ramparts, you really have to crane your neck. Here is a fort that stretches above the rock for 50m or more. The walls of rock beneath the walls and ramparts are straight and rough hewn. Clearly the hill provided the stone for walls and the material for the palace carving. Where the foundations and walls are solid and impenetrable, the palaces' exteriors and interiors are delicate, refined and sophisticated. The carvings are so delicate, they seem to defy that they are actually made from the rock of the hill. The interiors of white marble are cool and refreshing. The court and pleasure rooms décor is that which you would expect of a city famed for its wealth. Here the ceilings are gold filigree! Sumptuous in the extreme.

Yet there is plenty of evidence of the violence of its occupants' history played out in the museum's rooms and walls. The ramparts have a collection of cannons. Some captured as war booty and others cast in the fort's long dead forges, but pointing outward awaiting their bombardiers and a foe within their sights.

The audio guide proudly points out the round chips in the wall. Look it proclaims, this is the damage that cannons tried inflicting. Even they are puny and insignificant against this fort! In the armoury, all the weapons of war are proudly displayed. It seemed a Rajpur was not a man unless he was a warrior and skilled in the arts of war! One wall is dominated by a painting of the Maharaja in his battle gear, on his favourite horse, leaning over a fire cooking bread at the end of his lance after a hard day on the battle field during the "glorious 30 year war". Hmmmm…..right!

But the audio guide did a very good job in giving you a feel of the way that the Maharaja and his court lived with its culture, rules and etiquettes that dictated their lives. The fort was fantastic paintings and other art work that would leave students of Indian high art breathless in excitement. It even talked about the role of tea and opium in their worlds. Opium was seen as an integral part of their culture. In sealing business and political deals, concluding marriage arrangements and maintaining cultural traditions. But it was also taken by soldiers and warriors before battle to give them visions of heavenly paradise. Victory before death! Death before dishonour!

It gave little anecdotes of how it must have been to be of the fiercely proud and fiery Rajput caste. Many men never left the battlefields and so left many women widows and children fatherless at home. But pity the Maharajas' wives of old. When he died and was burned on his funeral pyre, they were expected to join him and to the other side without a whimper or complaint.

One of the most touching little poignant features at this huge magnificent fort are the hand prints of the widows on the wall at the main gate. As the funeral party made its way to the royal crematorium, the widows would dip their hands in vermillion and leave a small delicate hand print. It would be the last time that they would pass that way as they went to their deaths.

Impressive indeed.