Intro
Chittorgarh had already shown us its towers and tragedies, its palaces and legends. But before we left, the fort still had quieter gifts to offer — the devotion of Jain temples, a scented treasure in silk, and the warmth of food and stories shared with our driver on the road home.

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Kirti Stambh — The Jain Tower of Fame

Not far from Vijay Stambh stands the Kirti Stambh, the “Tower of Fame.” Smaller in scale but older in age, it rises 72 feet high, carved with delicate precision. Built in the 12th century by a Jain merchant, it honours Adinath, the first Tirthankara of Jainism.

Unlike the martial grandeur of Vijay Stambh, this tower radiates serenity. Its surface is covered in niches, each housing an image of a Tirthankara, as though the tower itself is a prayer rising skyward. At its base, Jain monks and devotees still gather, keeping alive a centuries-old tradition.

The contrast struck me: one tower built to proclaim victory in battle, the other to proclaim victory over the self. Chittorgarh holds both — valour and faith — side by side.

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A Saree with Sandalwood Fragrance

As we wandered further, we came upon a cluster of small shops within the fort complex. Among the souvenirs, one caught our eye immediately — a saree infused with the fragrance of sandalwood. The vendor explained that these sarees, woven with natural dyes and treated with oils, hold their scent for years.

Curious, we held one up. The soft fabric indeed carried a delicate, soothing fragrance. My wife’s eyes lit up, and before long, it was added to our growing bundle of memories from Mewar. Sometimes, history lingers not only in stones and legends, but in textiles and scents.

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Lunch — A Soldier’s Meal

By early afternoon, hunger demanded attention. Our guide suggested a local eatery outside the fort, and so we followed him to a modest restaurant that served us Rajasthan’s iconic dal-bati-churma.

The platter arrived steaming: crisp, golden batis broken and drenched in ghee, paired with spicy dal and sweet churma to balance the flavours. Alongside came garlic chutney, sharp and fiery, cutting through the richness with every bite.

As we ate, our driver Deepak ji joined us, and soon conversation flowed as easily as the food. He spoke of his family — his children, their studies, his dreams for them. He told us of the goats and cows he kept back home, and of the simple pride he took in their care. Between bites of bati, he laughed about the quirks of tourists he had driven before, and then grew serious as he spoke of the hardships of keeping a family afloat.

It was, in truth, less a driver’s conversation and more a soldier’s tale — a man fighting his own battles, quietly, every day. The meal, hearty and unpretentious, seemed fitting for such company.

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The Road Back to Udaipur

With stomachs full and spirits reflective, we began the journey back. The sky had grown heavy with clouds again, the monsoon never far from sight. As the car rolled past fields and hills, silence settled between us — not awkward, but the silence of travellers who had absorbed more than words could carry.

By the time we reached our hotel in Udaipur, evening had fallen. We shared a simple dinner, packed our belongings, and prepared for the last leg of our journey. Chittorgarh had left us humbled and enriched, its stories etched deep into memory.

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Outro / Teaser
With faith, food, and stories, Chittorgarh bade us farewell. Ahead lay the final chapter of our Udaipur trip — the quiet return, carrying not just souvenirs, but the weight of experiences that had changed us in small but lasting ways.