Rolling Stones

but was defeated and eventually lost to the ocean. Legends about the tribal chief of the Muska people in Colombia have changed over the years. At first, the chief was a single man covered in gold. Over time, the stories about the chief became stories out a great city than an entire kingdom made of gold, known simply as El Dorado. But as far as we can tell, they're all just stories. Though they have taken on lives of their own through various retellings and with the help of popular culture, they

are no truer than they were thousands of years ago. However, not all lost cities are fake. One was found in India in nineteen seventy five, though its creator probably wished that it stayed lost. This place, known as the Divine Kingdom of Sukrani, was discovered in the city of Chandagar in northern India. How it had gone hidden for so long is a mystery. As the kingdom had stretched across twelve acres, Indian authorities who toured the site didn't know

what to expect, but were surprised by their findings. Much of the kingdom had been comprised of large stone sculptures. One area was home to a piece known as the Dancing Girls, which was made up of dozens of stone statues similar in height. Their skirts were all different, some in black, others adorned with white or blue fragments of unknown origin. Deeper into the kingdom, waterfalls cascaded over rocks into small rivers and lagoons, which were bordered on both

sides by stone pathways. A temple like structure had been erected over one of the waterfalls, and rocky bridges spanned the rivers to allow passage from one side to the other. Rocks had also been arranged into animal shapes, such as cows and birds, which had been placed across the land in herds. Ornate mosaics comprised of tiny ceramic pieces adorned walls and walkways. All of these creations, made of pebbles, rocks and boulders, gave the city its other nickname, the

Rock Garden of Chandagar. Walking along its surprisingly sturdy paths was a joy as explorers took in the sights of elaborate carvings and statues, all of which had been erected on a tract of land that had gone unnoticed for ages. There were so many individual structures to see it was hard to know how many people it had taken to build the kingdom. Well, one person knew. His name was neck Chand, and he had built the whole thing himself.

Neck Chand came from simple means. Born in modern day Pakistan, Chand worked as a roads inspector for the Chandagar Public Works Department. In nineteen fifty one, an architect known as Lacobusier had been hired to design Chandagar as the first planned city in India. It was set to become the new capital of Punjab. Chand would ride his bicycle several miles from his home in Chandagar, where he supervised the construction of the city's new highways. The chand wasn't only

a roads inspector, He was also a collector. He liked to pick up small rocks and stones on his commute, items he described as both ancient and alive, and deposit them in a nearby gorge. His job at the public works allowed him to access the tools and materials the workers used to build the roads, and the local dump provided him with even more elements to incorporate into his

vast creation. Jandagar's construction had caused the demise of two nearby villages, whose homes and personal belongings had been tossed away. Of course, you know what they say, One man's trash is another man's art installation. Beginning in nineteen fifty seven, he worked under the cover of night, assembling his sculptures and archways out of the rocks, bathroom sinks, forks, knives, and other refuse. He did all of this far from

the prime eyes of his supervisors and Chandergar. Had they known what he was up to, they would have stopped him. You see, the gorge he had chosen to build his sites had been designated as protected land. His art wasn't just beautiful, it was an act of rebellion. Chand kept at it for eighteen years until some health officials investigating the area happened to come across it in nineteen seventy five.

By then, he had already planted trees and created almost two thousand sculptures from things he'd found on his bike rides to and from work. The city trying to have it demolished, but people came from all over India to see what Chand had built. Not wanting to kill a possible tourist trap or admit that they had at and paying attention to something going on right under their noses, Jander Guard passed in order to let the rock gardens stand.

Jand was given the title of Chief Creator, which came with a salary and fifty additional workers who would help him expand and maintain his creation. He kept at it until he passed away in two thousand fifteen. Not a bad ending for the man who built his city on rocks.

That role privilege is a double edged sword. Those who have it become accustomed to the comfort it brings, whether that comfort is monetary or knowing they'll never have to work as hard as others to get ahead, they believe they're invulnerable to poverty, illness, and the rest of the world's problems plaguing the less fortunate. For Michael Rockefeller, privilege allowed him to travel the world and have the kinds of experiences most people only dream of, but it also

came at a cost. Rockefeller was born in nineteen thirty eight to Mary and Nelson Rockefeller. His father, grandfather, and great grandfather had made their last name synonymous with wealth and power, from Standard Oil to U. S Steel and the US Vice presidency. The Rockefellers never knew anything but a life where the best was rarely good enough. Michael was one of seven children and attended the finest schools growing up. However, he didn't coast on his family's name

or reputation when it came to his school work. He was smart and had many varied interests. He gravitated towards art and history, much to his father's chagrin. Nelson had wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, which meant putting on a suit and managing the family's business affairs. Michael, though, chose a different path. By the early nineteen sixties, he was working on his graduate degree in anthropology at Harvard when he got the idea to visit a place rarely seen.

It was an island off the coast of Australia called Papua New Guinea, known then as Dutch New Guinea. The young Rockefeller had secured permission from the Dutch National Museum of Ethnology in the Netherlands to take a trip to the island. He would be traveling with the express purpose of obtaining art made by the native Osmat people who lived there, which he would then put on display back home. The Asthma people of the Aganop tribe greeted Rockefeller and

his team with trepidation. Many had never seen white men before, nor had they ever seen technology such as cameras. Though the indigenous peoples of the island tolerated the Americans documenting them, one thing was clear. Rockefeller was not allowed to take any of their art. Violators of this one edict might meet an end similar to those of rival villages who dared cross the Asthmats. Their heads would be cut off

and they would be eaten by the tribe. Rockefeller didn't worry, though, to him, the Asma were primitive compared to his advanced Western ways, he would have been wiser not to underestimate them, though, as his hubris would be instrumental in his downfall. He returned to America knowing that he'd have to make a return trip to the island if he was going to get the art he needed for his new exhibit. In nineteen sixty one, Rockefeller boarded a boat with an anthropologist

neighbor in a Wassing for a second try. They had almost reached the village when their boat was overturned in a storm. The two men floated there, holding onto their capsized hull, over ten miles from the island. As Rockefeller bobbed in the water, weighing his choices, he decided he would swim for it. I think I can make it, he said, and then Wassing watched him take off, unaware those would be his companion's final words. The future air

of the Rockefeller Fortune was never seen again. A search was conducted over the following weeks for Michael Rockefeller's body. It was never found. One theory suggested that he was eaten by sharks on his way to shore, and that premise was only half right. It took fifty years, but journalist Carl Hoffman eventually got the truth rocket Feller's death had been covered up. He learned from members of the outs Janup tribe that Michael had the unfortunate luck of

being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You see, three years before his first trip to the island, the outs Janup had gone to war with a rival tribe, and many on each side had been killed. The newly installed Dutch colonial government couldn't have these warring factions threatening their men, so they took matters into their own hands. They attempted to subdue the rival tribe. Unfortunately, a miscommunication

led to four Janup war leaders getting shot instead. To them, the other tribe was no longer the problem white men were. Michael Rockefeller had in fact made it to the island after his boat had capsized. Those who caught a glimpse of him thought he was a crocodile at first, until they got a closer look. When they saw that he was a two on or white man, they figured he was part of the Dutch colonizers who had come to

their village several years earlier. And to make matters worse, the specific as Janup who had spotted him had been the sons of the murdered war leaders, so they took their revenge out on Rockefeller. Michael Rockefeller had been born into a life of means. He believed himself to be above others, especially those of a culture are different from his own. None of it mattered in the end, though no amount of privilege would have saved him that day. It's a cautionary tale that teaches us a lot about

respect and valuing our differences. It shows us what can happen when power gets in the way of peace, and above all, it shows us just how curious our world truly is, and sometimes that's enough. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works.

I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot Come and until next time, stay curious. Yeah h