Jalis were a very popular feature in Mughal buildings between the 16th and 18th

centuries, mainly used to glorify imperial architecture, and were mostly produced in
the Agra and Delhi areas of Northern India. Jalis had the purpose of separating
spaces within buildings to provide privacy, especially for the women of the court, as
well as allowing the wind to circulate and dividing divine spaces from worldly ones.

A note accompanying the exhibition, which coincided with the celebration Asian Art
in London, states, According to Mughal political thought, a ruler was best
represented by his buildings which became memorials to his fame. During the high
period of Mughal art the imaginative designs of sandstone and marble jalis achieved
a degree of sophistication and refinement not seen elsewhere. Jalis have a
contemporary aesthetic which appeals to younger collectors, and have been used in
museum installations at The Metropolitan Museum of Art New York, The National
Gallery of Australia, and the new Islamic Arts wing of the Louvre.

The perforated stone screens on display in this joint exhibition most probably came
from buildings in Agra and Delhi and were earlier part of a private English collection,
housed in a country estate in Somerset. The collection includes jalis bearing highly
detailed geometric, floral and vase patterns, as well as few frieze fragments from the
late 12th and early 13th centuries inscribed with surahs and emblematic sentences
from the Koran. All the pieces are carved in the distinctive red sandstone of Northern
India.

More information on the exhibition can be found on a New York

Timesarticle and the Francesca Galloway and Sam Fogg websites.

Below you can enjoy a selection of the jalis from the exhibition.

Poetry in Stone: Carved Screens from Sultanate and Mughal India | Saffronart
Blog

https://blog.saffronart.com/2012/11/26/poetry-in-stone-carved-screens-from-
sultanate-and-mughal-india/

Visiting the Pink City of Jaipur, I am struck by the five story pink and red and stone 1799
Hawa Mahal or Palace of Winds. With 953 small jharokhas or covered windows, it was
designed in an era of defence in war, privacy was paramount, especially for women
in purdah who could see the outside world.
But the intricate open work carvings did shield the sun or allow unseen eavesdropping
for gossip or political intrigue. The 16th Century poetry in stone known as jali would
catch the breeze using principles found in modern air-conditioning, offering both security
and circulation.
Jali became the grammar of Mughal and Rajput architecture, from Indias north east, to
the simple homes of mud and bamboo; from stone havelis or Keralas grand homes or
from the heat of Rajasthan, Delhi and Agra
Poetry in stone would soon be placed in windows, door wells, stairwells, roof gablets, and
balconies to allow a room to breathe. Like a second skin a few feet from a structures
walls.

Scientifically by breaking a windows total aperture into tiny openings the jali acts as an
overhang. If the openings are the same size as the materials thickness it acts as a
louver, protective of glare and direct sunlight.

The size can vary.

The large jali in Mughal Delhi, differs from the small squares of intricate shapes in Agra.
The proportion of holes was larger and the overall percentage of opacity lower in the
humid climates like Kerala and Konkan differing tothe designs of Rajasthan and Gujarat.
Two laws of physics turn jali into air-conditioners: the principles of Venturi and Bernouli.
Venturis principal states that air is compressed and increases its speed when passed
through a funnel causing a breeze.

Bounoulis law states that when air is compressed and released it becomes cool.

Jali has been made from materials as diverse as mud, marble, wood, brick, metal and
more recently cement. Still, the play of shadows enhance ambience intricate patterns:
stars or honeycomb, flowering arabesques and floral forms.

The jali screens of the tomb of Salim Christi

A few days later, I am standing by the tomb of Salim Christi, in Akhbars former capital
city Fatepur Sikri.

Against the capitals red sand stone the marble jali seems almost modernist .
Sadly tour guides have spoiled the mood, trying to sell me a kurta for 5000 rupee to
raise funds for the the madrassa. I am promised the saint will be reward me the
desires of your heart.
As a Muslim friend rescues me, I watch the faithful tie coloured threads the panels. They
are humbly praying or a boon.

It is forty eight degrees centigrade. Yet, far from just a screen from the heat and glare,
I am reminded jali offers passage of that subtle join between public and private, and
perhaps between earthly and divine.

Jali screen Salim Christi Tomb, Fatepur Sikri, India