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| CULTURE & SOCIETY |
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CITY SCAPE |
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Encountering Delhi - Cruising through the capital on your feet
A sturdy pair of shoes help you explore the culture and diversity of the different parts of the city
Seeme Qasim
New Delhi
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Illustration: Sanjoy Naorem |
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THERE’S SOMETHING compulsive about walking around in the capital. Once you begin, it grows on you like a yearning that doesn’t go. You stick to it; it builds up into your lifestyle, becoming a part of you. I have walked through different parts of this city, exploring its culture and diversity wearing a sturdy pair of shoes. Depending on my mood, the time I have, it has made me discover facets in people, places and the way the light falls — often illuminating and infusing them with qualities that don’t fade.
From a flyover, amidst the rushing traffic, a dome in Humayun’s tomb complex is visible. It beckons with images of sandstone, marble and water dripping from fountains. Throughout the day, vehicles crammed with people — tourists speaking different languages — arrive to visit this World Heritage Site, where Mughal Emperor Humayun is buried. The tomb’s construction was overseen by his senior begum Hamida Banu in the 16th century. Tombs of other notables are also here.
Regular walkers cover its spaces, especially during early mornings and evenings. When the day ends, gurbani from the nearby gurdwara resounds in the complex. “It’s like being transported to a meditative state here every evening,” a fellow walker says as we go past the lush trees, the sound of birds settling down for the evening and the train in the distance rumbling by on a journey somewhere.
It’s almost night when I go down to the nearby sufi saint’s Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah complex, considered hallowed for both Muslims and Hindus. There are several graves in this area including the poet Amir Khusro and the entrance is thronging with people clutching offerings. As I hand my shoes to the attendant before entering, I look out for the man who took them long ago. I noticed he sat watching over a pile of footwear but the irony was that he had no feet.
He is not there today and I make my way through the place, stopping at the tomb of Jahanara (1681), daughter of Mughal emperor Shahjahan and Mumtaz Mahal. Open to the sky with marble screens around, it was designed by her. There is also an epitaph attributed to her which reads, “… Let nothing but greenery cover my grave/ For grass is the fittest grave for the poor…”
Walking helps discover things, often infusing them with qualities that don’t fade |
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Mornings see plenty of activity in the houses facing the South Delhi colony parks where chauffeurs clean cars and gossiping helps sweep driveways. As I walk, street vendors pass on foot, on cycles shouting out their wares or ringing bells to attract attention. I see people hovering by a woman sketching a sloping flowerbed of marigolds. I learn she’s a still-life artist, whose work — avidly admired by malis and other walkers — over the days reveals various species planted there.
I remember a winter afternoon when I set off on foot from Khan Market to Kotla Mubarakpur. Though I have taken these route innumerable times by car, it was a totally different experience now. I was stared at and auto-rickshaws frequently pulled up alongside, inquiring if I wanted a ride. I felt vulnerable, without the cocooned safety of my car. The beggars at the traffic lights who I often whizzed past, now repeatedly asked me, “Kahan paidal ja rahee ho?”
I eventually branched off via Meher Chand Market from a side road near the Sai Temple. There was a huge rush since it was Thursday, considered auspicious by devotees patiently waiting to go inside. The air was touched with incense smoke and the fragrance of petals as I went past shops with glittering items.
Going past the laidback government flats in Lodi Colony, I reached the railway crossing at Kotla, where different kinds of traffic — vehicles, cycles, carts, cows, horses, camels and monkeys held on leashes by handlers along with people patiently waited for the goods trains to pass. On both sides there were fruit and vegetable stalls alongside tea, jalebi places. Shopkeepers beckoned, urging me to sample them.
Before the Commonwealth Games in 2010, they were removed and the gate closed. The Barapullah from INA Market to Sarai Kale Khan eventually became functional — with speeding traffic going by the area on broadened roads. However, the fruit and vegetable stalls leading up to the boarded up phatak have resurfaced and continue to thrive like before. Its decrepit air has returned as whistling trains rumble by at all hours.
On days when I can’t get out, I walk on my terrace at home. While pacing up and down, I notice new things. The windows in one of the houses across are shut and some panes broken. They look disused, making me wonder if its residents have left and for how long. The neighbourhood cat emerges, jumping from a crate near the old ladder, followed by three recently born mewing kittens. The pigeons on the railing look warily at them, while a pressure-cooker hisses in an adjacent building. I watch glimpses of life continuing through lighted windows and doorways, framed against the darkness like poignant paintings.
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