Pixelated Memories: Hauz Khas

Showing posts with label Hauz Khas. Show all posts

August 28, 2015

Hauz Khas Trail, Delhi

“The city of Delhi, built hundreds of years ago, fought for, died for, coveted and desired, built, destroyed and rebuilt, for five and six and seven times, mourned and sung, raped and conquered, yet whole and alive.. Yet the city stands still intact, as do many more forts and tombs, and monuments, remnants and reminders of old Delhis, holding on to life with a tenacity and purpose which is beyond comprehension and belief.”

– Ahmed Ali, “Twilight in Delhi”

Delhi's secret treasures

In the heart of one of the city's most posh localities, presently abounding with upscale fashion boutiques, glittering designer showrooms, expensive restaurants and resplendent souvenir and antiques outlets, lie the remains of Hauz Khas, a regally-patronized, breathtakingly beautifully constructed medieval Islamic seminary (“madrasa”) which – in its original outstanding splendor as a colossal L-shaped construction thoroughly ornamented with numerous colonnades, a profusion of domes and highly-detailed filigreed stone latticework screens, richly plastered over with myriads of delicate stucco patterns and embossed calligraphy inscriptions, and warmly painted in reds, oranges and gold to reflect a beautiful shimmering image in the purple-green waters of the colossal, deep tank that exists besides its enormous presence – is unquestionably acknowledged to be the remarkable zenith of Tughlaq-era (AD 1320-1414) cultural and civilizational heritage that today survives in the form of magnificent massive ruins and beautifully illustrated royal histories and travel accounts. The esteemed seminary, christened “Madrasa-i-Feroze Shahi”, after Emperor Feroz Shah Tughlaq (reign AD 1351-88) who conceived and commissioned it, is said to have been regarded as an unparalleled center for education and learning especially of arts, calligraphy, algebra, mathematics, history, philosophy and Islamic jurisprudence (refer Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex). Scattered around and overshadowed by it are numerous minor, historically insignificant and architecturally inconsequential, but visually fascinating edifices.

Geometry and flourishes - Poti ka Gumbad

Discounting the outstanding Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad and the downtrodden, curmudgeon Kali Gumti and Tohfewala Gumbad in the vast, thoroughly forested Deer Park adjacent which I have already documented in articles on this blog (refer Pixelated Memories - Deer Park), here we shall traverse around the Hauz Khas Village (HKV) proper where, overshadowed by massive trees possessing immense canopies composed of thick gnarled branches, abound several smaller monuments camouflaged as street furniture in the midst of tiny plots of beautifully maintained, manicured lawns carpeted with thick tufts of vibrant green grass and plentiful rows of flowering shrubbery. The history of the commissioning and construction of most of these monuments has not been documented in contemporaneous literary accounts, nor, in the case of the mausoleums, is anything known about the identity or the life and times of the personality interred within.

Another Delhi

Most of these structures and the minuscule garden plots enclosing them have been recently spruced up keeping in line with the beautification drive that visually and aesthetically glorified most of the city on the occasion of the 19th Commonwealth Games (CWG XIX 2010) and consequentially several of these monuments are lit up with incandescent orange and blue lights even during night time and make for interesting photography and evening stroll avenues. Also, granted that HKV is regarded as one of the most posh localities in all of Delhi, the monuments here and the small lawns surrounding them are markedly free of encroachments and conspicuously well-preserved and well-maintained by the archaeological and horticultural authorities respectively. Sadly however, while BMWs, Jaguars and Mercedes zip past here at almost all times of the day, seldom do the passer-bys bother to stop or even grace a second glance to these magnificent structures.

Closest to the Hauz Khas group of monuments is a cluster of three mausoleums – Choti Gumti (“Small Domed Building”), Sakri Gumti (“Narrow Domed Building”) and Barakhamba (“Twelve-pillared Domed Building”) – the first two separated from each other by a wide road that traverses the different localities of Hauz Khas and the last separated from both the others by another wide road that connects HKV to the arterial, perennially crowded Aurobindo Marg in the near distance.

Choti Gumti –

Adorably dwarfish - Choti Gumti

Coordinates: 28°33'12.3"N 77°12'04.8"E
Choti Gumti is a typical perfectly-proportioned Lodi-era (AD 1451-1526) mausoleum that reflects pretty gracefulness despite its diminutive magnitude. The cubical mausoleum noticeably employs small decorative alcoves in cohesion with the numerous pointed arches of the facades on all sides and is surmounted by a proportionate semicircular dome which is itself crowned with a blossoming lotus finial. The noteworthy use of “kangura” patterns (battlement-like ornamentation) and traces of small budding minarets protruding from the corners of the octagonal drum (base) of the dome and the embossed rectangular facades on each of the sides adds a certain flamboyant flair to the otherwise subdued architecture. A solitary grave slightly offset against the side of the raised ornamental courtyard that surrounds the monument crumbles to dust against the relentless assault of the elements while the dark and forgotten interiors, which possess three more sarcophagi, have been miserably transformed into a store room for housing lawnmowers and broomsticks and those information panels which never got around to be affixed against the mausoleum compound’s entrance. Seldom do visitors venture in this forgotten patch of beautified green paradise, but when they do intermittently it is merely to escape the scorching heat of the summer sun or to cuddle into the arms of a beloved and never to observe and appreciate the architecture and the gentle outline of the gorgeous monument. Sigh!

Sakri Gumti –

Enigmatic - Sakri Gumti

Coordinates: 28°33'11.6"N 77°12'06.7"E
The triple-storied, extremely narrow Sakri Gumti opposite is a remarkable edifice. It is not known what purpose did this building serve – it is too congested and unusually designed to function as a mausoleum, moreover there is no trace of a grave inside. Conjecture is that it originally was a gateway for a garden complex housing at its centerpiece one of the nearby mausoleums – but then again, all its four faces possess an entrance arch and if it ever was a gateway, it certainly was a unique one! What is even more compelling is the presence of a small extension of rubble wall that runs adjacent one of its sides – originally, the wall must have entirely blocked one of its entrances – why then was it constructed this way is anyone’s guess. Externally, through the appendage of ornamental arches and windows the structure has been afforded the semblance of a double-storied building. The short dome rests on a relatively high drum delineated by a row of kanguras identical to the ones that demarcate the roof’s vertical expanse. The only other decorations exist in the form of rudimentary, roughly carved patterns sparsely embossed on a few of the stones that compose its exterior surface and small adornment arched niches and squinches (diagonal added between two arms of a corner so as to span space and convert a square structure successively into an octagon and then a polygon/circle to support the heavy dome) along the confined interiors.

Crowning glory

Barakhamba –

Coordinates: 28°33'10.0"N 77°12'08.1"E
In architectural lexicon “Barakhamba” translates to “Twelve-pillared Domed Building”, however the extremely massive Lodi-era structure present here is an innovative advancement over the simplistic twelve-pillared constructions – the enormous domed square is supported upon pillars of different girths such that the corner protrusions spontaneously take the form of significantly solid buttressed walls. The three arched entrances located along the center of each face are embedded within a wide arched depression that justifiably reflects the colossal nature of the monument under consideration. The entire structure rests upon a high, gently sloping artificial hill and is surrounded by numerous graves and two rare constructions – a singular worn bastion that totally appears out of place here in the absence of any connecting walls and a curious square projection inset with a small alcove (which might have been once used to house an earthen oil lamp) facing the monument.

Considerably thick - Barakhamba

The hemmed-in area around the monument, despondently enclosed by high iron grilles and flanked along one side by the perpetually crowded road, is hidden from passer-bys and pedestrians alike by a nearly impenetrable veil of flourishing vegetation and perhaps that explains why it is not as tenderly maintained as the small patches that frame the other monuments nearby – thus the grass-shrouded lawns are bordered by unruly hedges and punctuated by sporadic outbursts of brightly colorful weeds, thereby suggesting an aura of uncontrollable wilderness benevolently shaded by massive trees that weigh down upon it from every conceivable direction. And in the enclosed space thus isolated abound peacocks with brilliant violet plumage who frolic around and often sweep down from trees to generously pose for the occasional photographer who treads this way.

Dadi-Poti ka Gumbad –

Brown beauty - Dadi ka Gumbad

Coordinates: 28°33'11.8"N 77°12'13.2"E
At the very intersection of Aurobindo Marg and HKV Road (couple of hundred meters from the previous cluster of mausoleums) exists another enclosed landscaped garden, studded with well-maintained hedges and lines of ornamental lampposts, hiding in its beautiful bosom two of the most striking and exceedingly well-preserved mausoleums of unknown identity that the city possesses – referred to as the mausoleums of “Dadi-Poti” (Grandmother-Granddaughter) or “Bibi-Bandi” (Mistress-Hand servant) following later date nomenclature originating from the difference in their spatial dimensions, they rest adjacent each other on contiguous artificial grass-enshrouded hills. The larger mausoleum, “Dadi ka Gumbad” dated to the reign of the Lodi Dynasty (AD 1451-1526), is a massive triple-storied edifice possessing as its distinguishing features exquisitely crafted medallions adorning its interiors and tapering fluted pillars flanking the rectangular embossed facades on each of the sides along its exteriors. The smaller mausoleum, “Poti ka Gumbad” dated to the earlier reign of the Tughlaq Dynasty (AD 1320-1414), boasts of an unfamiliar domed kiosk surmounting its towering dome and displays a splendidly outstanding profusion of intricate geometric and floral plasterwork patterns along one of its sides.

Unusually surmounted - Poti ka Gumbad

It is conjectured that both the mausoleums were primarily constructed for the internment of female benefactors who possibly belonged to nobility – however, the first tomb houses six graves and the second houses three and there is no way of ascertaining whether the personages buried underneath are feminine or masculine since all the graves have been restored and re-plastered over thereby eradicating any identifications/inscriptions that were originally engraved on them.

Chor Minar and Kharera Wall ruins –

Coordinates: 28°32'51.7"N 77°12'20.3"E and 28°33'07.1"N 77°12'18.2"E respectively
In the midst of residential quarters and bungalows on the other side of the village, past the enclosing walls of the medieval village Kharera which are the last of their kind since most of the fortifications and periphery walls that surrounded such villages and settlements were demolished at the obnoxiously avaricious altar of burgeoning urbanization and relentless commercialization, encircled by a small square garden lined with pomegranate and khejdi (Prosopis cineraria) trees, sits the city’s most macabre, supposedly haunted, monument – “Chor Minar” or “Tower of Thieves” is a tapering cylindrical edifice arising from a high rubble platform and possessing along its surface 225 holes through which once protruded sharp spears used to pierce and display the decapitated heads of thieves and other criminal offenders. Said to have been commissioned and employed by the fierce Sultan Alauddin Khilji (reign AD 1296-1316), the structure would have once lain along the peripheries of the 13th-14th century settlement “Tarapur” (“City of Joy”) and thus served to remind the inhabitants and caravan travelers entering the city of the Sultan’s preferred mode of delivering justice.

A monument to the morbid - Chor Minar

It is also conjectured that in order to prevent them from joining their brethren from central Asia in mounting a full-fledged invasion on the citadel, the Sultan here displayed the heads of brutally massacred Mongol citizens (“New Muslims”) who had adopted the city as their home and converted to Islam. Of course, the relentless Mongols did nonetheless attack Delhi in the hope of plunder and pillage only to be contemptibly defeated and rightly butchered – the Sultan raised his new fortress Siri on a purportedly auspicious foundation of their severed heads (refer Pixelated Memories - Siri Fort ruins). It is said that when the number of beheadings exceeded the count of holes, for instance during times of war or increased cases of crime in the domain, the Sultan would decree that only the heads of the more notable of criminals be displayed on the tower and the rest be stacked near it like a gruesome blood-dripping, soul-curdling pyramid! Sadly though, today very few of the city’s inhabitants know the place’s gory history and even fewer venture to visit it. Unconversant with the morbid tales that hang around the air here, locals use the small, well-shaded garden for evening strolls and gardeners and laborers employed around doze off in the corners during scorching summer days. Instead of the decapitated heads grinning their lopsided, post-death grins, pigeons and crows peep through the numerous holes and squirrels cavort around its large platform.

Thus comes to end a midsummer day’s exploration of death and macabre in the heart of one of Delhi’s most expensive and colorful locations. Hauz Khas does have several additional monuments and ruins to offer as well, several of them deserving individualistic articles for themselves on account of their exemplar detailed artworks or architectural features – fodder for future posts!

Fitted seamlessly - Kharera village fortifications and an air conditioning unit

Nearest Bus stop: Hauz Khas on Aurobindo Marg
Nearest Metro Station: Green Park (900 meters away)
How to reach: Walk from the metro station/bus stop - Dadi-Poti ka Gumbad exist on the very intersection of Aurobindo Marg (on which the bus stop and metro station are located) and HKV Road leading to the restaurants, gastropubs and larger monuments of Hauz Khas. The rest of the monuments are located along HKV Road on a straight line from Dadi-Poti ka Gumbad. Chor Minar and Kharera fortifications are located on the other side of Aurobindo Marg and one can ask locals for directions to them - Chor Minar is a fairly famous park/traffic turnaround.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20-30 min per monument
Suggested reading -
Other monuments located in the vicinity -

Other trails in the city -

August 18, 2015

Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan and Bijay Mandal, Delhi

“Few maps of modern Delhi bother to mark Begampur. It lies engulfed amid the new colonies that have recently sprung up along the way to Mehrauli, a small enclave of mud-walled, flat-roofed village life besieged by a ring of high-rise apartments. The smart metalled road which links the new colonies in Aurobindo Marg gives out a few hundred feet before you got to the village. Bouncing along the rubble track, you arrive in the midst of a dust storm of your own creation.”

– William Dalrymple, “The City of Djinns”

Sultan Alauddin Khilji (reign AD 1296-1316) was one of the most formidable Emperors of the city of Delhi – an ambitious ruler, fierce general, ruthless administrator, efficient dispenser of justice, master of diplomacy and a pronounced agnostic with a taste for fine sculptural arts and captivating architecture – his mighty armies stemmed the flow of Central Asian Mongol invader-plunderers and themselves ravaged the entire Indian subcontinent from Bengal in east and Gujarat in west to Karnataka and Tamil Nadu in the south. He vigorously consolidated the mighty empire by violently crushing rebellions from nobles and smaller kingdoms throughout his vast territories, strengthened the frontiers by having constructed fearsome garrisons and military centers and eradicated robbery and criminal activities by having his subjects disdainfully beheaded for even the minutest of transgressions. The Emperors who chronologically followed him throughout the medieval history of the subcontinent strived to emulate his glorious example of administration and display of the untrammeled might of the state – and architecture, imposing and bewildering, was to be one of the most often employed means to portray the same.

Forgotten glory? - Jahanpanah - "The Refuge of the World"

The Tughlaq Sultans Muhammad Juna Khan (reign AD 1325-51) and Feroz Shah ibn Rajab (reign AD 1351-88), individually perennially endeavoring for posterity throughout their long eventful lives, decided to attempt something architecturally similar to Alauddin – so while the latter had his enormous community water tank “Hauz-i-Alai” restored and expanded into a massive, ethereally beautiful madrasa complex (Islamic seminary) that would over the years become a leading center for the study of Islamic jurisprudence, languages, mathematics, algebra and calligraphy (refer Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex), the former was even more vigorous in his undertakings – in AD 1326-27, instead of overtaking and retrofitting Alauddin’s long-abandoned fortress citadel and acknowledging it as his own, he commissioned an enormous fortification – the fourth medieval city of Delhi – that would engulf within its own being Alauddin’s capital Siri as well as several other preceding cities. The new mammoth capital, determinedly christened “Jahanpanah” (“Refuge of the World”), possessed as its centerpiece an immensely grand, thousand-pillared wooden palace that was to outrival Alauddin’s architecturally similar residence and was also to be referred to by identical nomenclature as “Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan” ("Thousand-pillared fortress"). Jahanpanah has since been obliterated off the face of Delhi, disintegrated by the vagaries of time and nature – an eventuality that it shared with Siri, the elliptical enormity that it attempted to emulate and surpass – the magnificent wooden palace has long crumbled to dust, the imposing audience halls Diwan-i-Khas and Diwan-i-Aam have disappeared in their entirety and only a couple of the more colossal of the Sultan’s edifices remain, ruined and collapsing, marooned in several of the city’s urban villages and posh colonies as run-down fortified mosques and remnants of palaces and fortresses (even a huge medieval water reservoir in one case! Refer Pixelated Memories - Satpula) – the terminology “Jahanpanah” however lives on as one of the city’s better preserved and protected forests near Jamia Hamdard College. British travel writer Jan Morris could have been summing up Jahanpanah’s present existence when she sharply described Delhi thus –

“Tombs of Emperors stand beside traffic junctions, forgotten fortresses command suburbs, the titles of lost dynasties are woven into the vernacular, if only as street names."

Fall from grace - Sultan Muhammad's personal palace

The remains of Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan can be spotted in the village of Begumpur best accessible from the nearby located Hauz Khas metro station – across the road immediately opposite gate 2 of the station, walk a couple of hundred meters down the unpaved dirt path leading into the village proper and the ruined, foliage-reclaimed walls of the palace appear in all their splendor on the right – mere skeletons of their original glory, the carcasses of the edifices rise through grass and weeds that have grown well past higher than me in certain places and pierce the village’s ragged colorful skyline in a protrusion of sheer rubble masonry and fortification redundant of all forms of artistic ornamentation and sculptural art. One can literally feel the trademark Tughlaq disdain for bewitching ornamentation and graceful plasterwork. The deep red rubble buildings, emerging from the vast patch of dry grass and foliage that twirls and unfurls with every undulation in wind, are redolent of ignorance and desolation and a ruinous, long forgotten existence that steadfastly refuses to be snuffed out. Mongooses quickly scurry around and with alarming frequency buzz tiny insects and mosquitoes probably breeding in the murky puddles around the corners where locals dump their everyday domestic waste and excreta. Several of the dry weeds rattle incoherently and hoarsely against the onslaught of the aggressive wind, prompting one to wonder whether there might be rattle snakes (or just about any kind of snakes) here.

Obliterated lavishness and destroyed grandeur

As the wind liberally drifts around, time seems to have slowed down to a near halt in this little patch of wilderness in the heart of the city. An uninterrupted hush surrounds the ruins, disturbed only occasionally by the movement of several fat, odorous cows grazing on the dry grass and the crash of another polythene bag, stuffed with vegetable wastes, plastic wrappers and in numerous cases, glass bulbs, flung across the high grilles into this ignored wilderness by the residents of the nearby box-like, equally ruined and creaky residential quarters. The heat made matters worse – Delhi's sweltering weather anyway makes one toss and turn and debate whether lying still is hotter or moving about, it worsens the tempers and makes one launch into acts of aggression on the slightest of pretexts – the dogs in this miniature “Heart of Darkness” were faced with a similar dilemma of having to decide whether to continue pretending to snooze or take turns barking and chasing me or the cows around – the cows, of course, were not be perturbed while they munched in utter abandoned tranquility, so the dogs went back to pretending to have dozed off while occasionally cocking a wary eye at me, the foolish stranger with the camera hopping around the crashed stones and devastated walls.

Glimpses of color!

Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan happens to be the city’s most perplexing monument – while it is known that it originally functioned as the idiosyncratic Sultan’s residential palace and was originally surrounded by numerous fortified gateways, beautiful audience halls and vast tree-lined gardens, historians and architectural scholars today have a hard time explaining the set of disjointed, confusing ruins that survive as the Sultan’s stronghold. The first structure visible even from a distance is the “Bijay Mandal” (“Pavilion of Triumph”), a tapering octagonal protrusion that projects from the palace’s roof and has been invariably conjectured as a military watchtower, the Sultan’s penthouse apartment, an abnormally designed defensive bastion at the junction of fortification walls and even a relic from Alauddin’s original, vertically dominant palace complex. Stepping through the mere iron gateway that now defines Qasr-i-Hazar Sutan’s peripheries, one is struck by the unrelenting onslaught of wilderness and weeds that even shroud the larger buildings and unbelievably even appear to be thriving on stone faces. Whitewashed and heralded by a few furiously fluttering green flags, in the shadow of the better conserved ruins of interconnected chambers in a corner near the gate is the modest grave of Sufi saint Sheikh Hasan Tahir who lived sometime during the reign of Sultan Sikandar Lodi (reign AD 1489-1517) and about whose existence nothing is remembered or documented in contemporaneous historical records. From here on begins the short walk over sloping land to reach the palace’s remains – it is a wonder how the locals manage to fashion an almost straight and uniformly wide pathway by incinerating a narrow strip through the grass whose selfless sacrifice marks the entire length of the path in the form of a layer of grey-speckled black that immediately comes into view against the brilliant green of the all-encompassing foliage and the merciless glare of the scorching sun.

Sufism - Seeping into even the most miserable of edifices in the city

The ruins of the Sultan’s private residential quarters, including the deep pits which one led to the treasuries and where pearls, diamonds, gold and emeralds were discovered till as late as last century, are stuffed to the seams with garbage in the form of polythene bags, plastic wrappers, beer bottles and cans, empty packs of cigarettes and rotten, foul-smelling vegetable waste and excreta from man and animal alike. The tell-tale Tughlaq roughly carved rectangular pillars stand like wasted sentinels supporting amongst themselves roofs that, if not collapsed and reduced to rubble fragments projecting in free space, are blackened by the numerous fires that have been lit under their sanctuaries for several centuries past by vandals and encroachers. The coats of sparkling white plaster that must have once covered the walls and the arches is long gone and only layers of rubble and rough-hewn stone garishly compose the ruined walls at present – there are neither exquisitely sculpted stone lattice screens nor intricate stucco patterns in plaster, consequentially neither artistic distractions nor regal grandeur or architectural harmony – the age was prohibitively ascetic, disdainful of ornamentation and elaborate artwork. In the distance, engulfed by vegetation and layers of accumulated earth, can be spotted the occasional grey-glistening fragment of stone in which were once pegged the thousand delicately gilded and painted wooden pillars that supported the colossal gorgeous palace building. Adjacent this roughly rectangular edifice is an impressive yet puzzling square structure that confoundingly possesses 12-feet thick walls and is surmounted by a strange ribbed dome thoroughly overgrown with dry grass – the purpose that this building served is not known, however most historians concede it to be a later Lodi-era (AD 1451-1526) addition to the complex. Could it have been an attached mosque or a funerary structure given that its western wall is entirely walled in and might have functioned as a “mihrab” (western wall of a mosque/religious structure indicating the direction of Mecca and faced by the faithful while offering prayers)? One can be forgiven for believing that these monuments have been long abandoned. As Sam Miller notes in his poignantly humorous journal “A Strange Kind of Paradise: India through Foreign eyes” –

“Bijay Mandal has its uses. It is frequented by drug addicts, card players, young lovers and goats – and is popular with latrine-less locals who use it as a urinal and a shithouse – but I’ve never, ever, in my half-dozen trips there seen anyone else ‘visiting’ it; not a single tourist, Indian or foreign.”

Desolate remnants from an interesting past

On the other side of this humongous entity, fragments of unconnected staircases, beginning here, terminating in another corner, following the thread through another side, lead upstairs to the unusually designed roof – entire Begumpur can be observed in detail from the Bijay Mandal and in the distance, veiled by the lines of buildings and commercial spaces, can be spotted the slender outline of the towering Qutb Minar (refer Pixelated Memories - Qutb Minar). Historians conjecture that Bijay Mandal was the “Badf Manzil” (“Wonderful Mansion”) rooftop pavilion, described in his memoirs by the 14th-century Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta, from where the Sultan would administer his colossal kingdom and appear before his supplicant subjects. The octagonal building with alternate shorter and wider edges is a culmination of essentially unaesthetic Tughlaq architecture juxtaposing militaristic, defensive battered sloping walls against fringe highlights of color introduced by the utilization of thick, minimally carved slabs of grey quartzite and red sandstone – also noteworthy is the introduction of trabeate arches composed of flat lintels stacked spanning the space over one of the doorways and proper horseshoe-shaped arches endowed with keystones on other sides. Beer bottles in their hands and potato crisps strewn around them on newspapers, half a dozen teenage youngsters, three guys and three girls, sit gossiping, giggling and cozying up in the shade afforded by the pavilion. Once the Sultan must have stood here and inspected the vast expanse of his sovereign territories, monitored his troop formations and gazed fondly at monuments from ages prior to his, including Alauddin’s massive “Hauz-i-Alai” near which once he and his father Ghiyasuddin Ghazi Malik Tughlaq (reign AD 1320-25) had stationed their combined forces to challenge the might of the armies of Khilji Dynasty (reign AD 1290-1320) assembled under the command of the usurper Khusro Khan. Noticing the near-total disappearance of his unassailable fortress and the deplorable condition of his beloved palace, his anguished soul must be wretchedly writhing in his mausoleum – of course, his miserable plight would not have been this heartrending and dark-humored ironic had the inhabitants of his kingdom at least remembered where he was interred!

Unusual! - The Sultan's penthouse pavilion

Location: Begumpur Village, Malviya Nagar
Open: All days, sunrise to sunset
Nearest Metro station: Hauz Khas
Nearest Bus stop: Laxman Public School, Hauz Khas
How to reach: From Laxman Public School/Hauz Khas Metro station Gate 2, proceed for Begumpur village immediately across the arterial Outer Ring Road/Gamal Abdel Nasser Marg. A straight track one kilometer long takes one to Begumpur Masjid past Hazar Sutan/Bijay Mandal ruins.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr
Relevant Links -
Some of the other Tughlaq-era constructions in the city -

Other monuments located in the neighborhood -

May 13, 2015

Begumpur Masjid, Delhi

“A doom-laden place, implacable in its hostility, foreboding, menacing, redolent of death.”

– Alistair Maclean, “Caravan to Vaccares”

The colossal, long abandoned Begumpur Masjid, lying miserably neglected and uncared for in the urban village (an oxymoron of course, but Begumpur cannot possibly be described otherwise!) that lends its name to it, can undeniably be cited as a prominent example of Tughlaq-era’s (AD 1320-98) fortified architecture which inherently favored functional characteristics, including defensive capabilities and fortress-like features, over artistic aesthetics in religious, royal and even funerary structures. Of course, the Tughlaqs were more concerned with commissioning defensive structures which could offer additional protection against pillaging hordes of Mongol invaders from Central Asia, and thus their preferred choice of construction material, the grey Delhi quartzite stone, on account of being extremely capable of withstanding repetitive blows, rendered the same possible but was definitely not an ideal choice for sculptural artwork.

180° panoramic view of Begumpur mosque depicting the primary (eastern) gateway (right) and the thickset pishtaq (left)

The medieval mosque, primarily inspired by Uzbek influence, is exceedingly massive, the second largest in the city after Shahjahan’s graceful Jama Masjid (refer Pixelated Memories - Jama Masjid), and possesses a huge domed gateway, accessible via large ziggurat-like staircases, along the center of each of its northern, southern and eastern sides. Considerably blackened at present owing to the decay of organic materials such as lentils and jaggery that were employed, in accompaniment to plaster, as an external coating for the structure to enable it to easily withstand extreme weather conditions, the gateways and the walls retain occasional remnants of minimal sober ornamentation such as floral medallions conceived of red sandstone and painted blue plasterwork. There are two equally plausible theories under contention amongst historians regarding the construction of the epic mosque. The first states that it was commissioned by Muhammad Juna Tughlaq (reign AD 1325-51) as the “Jami Masjid” (royal congregational mosque) contiguous with his unusual thousand-pillared palace complex “Hazar Sutan” located couple of hundred meters away – this finds collaboration from the fact that the mosque also possesses, adjoining a corner, a distinct smaller square “Mallu Khana” (zenana mosque) that would have been used by the royal ladies for personal private prayers and would have been connected via a passageway to the palace complex so that the ladies could come and go as they pleased without being spotted by outsiders (its outline although can unquestionably be determined from outside where, unlike the rest of the mosque, this spatial square projection displays “jali” (stone filigree screens) set into the wall openings). The second theory, more widely accepted by scholars on account of there being an absence of literary records of the mosque chronicled by Muhammad Tughlaq's contemporaneous historic sources, approximately dates its construction to AD 1375 and credits it to Khan-i-Jahan Juna Shah Telengani, the Wazir (Prime Minister) of Feroz Shah Tughlaq (reign AD 1351-88), who also built several other considerably enormous mosques in Delhi’s then settlement conglomerations, including the interesting Khirki Masjid which I documented here – Pixelated Memories - Khirki Masjid.

Grandeur personified - One of the gateways of the colossal mosque

Incidentally, given that the mosques are built as miniature fortresses, the local population of the surrounding settlements moved into them in AD 1739 to escape rape and execution when the ruthless Iranian Sultan Nadir Shah overran and plundered the city subsequent to the gradual weakening of the Mughal dynasty (reign AD 1526-1857) following court intrigues, filial rivalries, administrative and territorial blunders and power struggles. Afterwards, the people (and their cattle, poultry and donkeys!) never moved out but built living quarters, complete with kitchens and toilets, within the mosques themselves! The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), soon after it was constituted, managed in 1921 to convince the occupants to move out and establish villages around the heritage structures but already extensive damage, including miserable blackening of walls and ceilings by soot residues deposited from fires, had been heaped. But the story did not end here – centuries later, many of the desperate refugee families from Pakistan who reached Delhi following the horrendous partition of the subcontinent in 1947 amicably resettled in the mosque and continued to live there till as late as a few years back!

A different perspective - The mosque, as spotted from one of the neighborhood buildings

Irrespective of how many times one has read about the mosque or spotted its photographs (which anyway prove to be incapable of conveying the grand magnitude or subdued magnificence of the monument), nothing prepares one for the first visual onslaught that its majestic proportions prove to be as soon as one steps within the gateway – one can never be accused of resorting to hyperbole in stating that the words “gigantic”, “enormous” and “immense” quite simply fail to convey the sense of grandeur under consideration here. The mammoth expanse of the “sehan”, the cobbled stone courtyard (91 X 93 square meters!), further accentuates the distant tapering gateways and the domed passageways that the sides culminate into and outlines the vertical protrusion of the lofty “pishtaq”, the towering structure that serves as an entrance to the mihrab (western wall of a mosque that indicates the direction of Mecca and is faced by the faithful while offering Namaz) and is flanked by two huge tapering pillars that frame it in a fairly masculine and well-proportioned manner. While the skyline is totally dominated by the humongous off-white pishtaq and the gateways, the numerous smaller domes punctuate the otherwise overall uninspiring monotony of the straight lines of the colonnades.

Dominating - The mosque, hemmed in by ramshackle multi-floor apartment buildings

The inner surface of each dome would have originally blossomed into a colorful flourish of floral medallion from whose center would have hung lamps but only traces of the erstwhile decoration survive now underneath a few of the domes; most of the simplistic rectangular stone pillars too have now been carved with names, love letters and uniformly distasteful etchings by vandals and local children who presently utilize the humongous courtyard and the passageways respectively as a cricket pitch and a hangout zone for gossiping, playing cards and alcohol parties. Of all the colonnades, the spellbindingly symmetrical western one, triple-rowed and composed of a line of double pillars facing the courtyard side and two lines of single pillars behind in contrast with the rest of the colonnades which are single-rowed, leads to the mihrabs of which the central is minimally ornamented with just a touch, not very distinguished or striking but not unnoticed either in the otherwise continuous regularity, of red sandstone and white marble, very meticulously but simplistically sculpted. The overall artistic austerity, in addition to the unpunctuated silence and measured intimidating aloofness, multiplies manifolds the bewildering influence endowed to the structure by its gargantuan proportions. One literally feels dwarfed, inconsequential and even slightly scared and disoriented in the face of such unparalleled enormity.

Grace and symmetry - The western colonnade

Helical staircases built into the flanking tapering pillars of the pishtaq lead first to the upper floor where one can walk into a claustrophobia-inducing extremely narrow passageway and witness, quite nerve-rackingly in deed, the courtyard’s immensity, unyielding cobblestone surface and the building’s vertical projection, necessarily in that particular order followed immediately by navigation for asylum back to the staircase’s little safety and later by an obdurate desire to climb even further and check the view from the very roof of the structure – thankfully, the latter is promising and renders the terrifying climb this high worth – besides the village’s chessboard skyline of box-like multicolored buildings occasionally interrupted by a few trees, there is Qutb Minar majestically looming like a beacon in the far distance (refer Pixelated Memories - Qutb Minar) and Muhammad Tughlaq’s “Hazar Sutan” nearby (more on that on a later date). Some of the alcoves and the area around the staircases leading to the gateways and within the courtyard are littered with stone slabs, rubble, plaster and other material to be utilized for the structure’s restoration-conservation, which it undoubtedly direly requires, but except for a few dogs snoozing around and a few locals drinking beer and playing cards in the colonnades, there is not a soul in sight, no laborers at least. Wonder when the restoration begins, if it does at all.

Precious remnants

Location: Begumpur Village, Malviya Nagar
Open: All days, sunrise to sunset
Nearest Metro station: Hauz Khas
Nearest Bus stop: Laxman Public School, Hauz Khas
How to reach: From Laxman Public School/Hauz Khas Metro station Gate 2, proceed for Begumpur village immediately across the arterial Outer Ring Road/Gamal Abdel Nasser Marg. A straight track one kilometer long takes one to Begumpur Masjid past Hazar Sutan/Bijay Mandal ruins.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr
Some of the other Tughlaq-era constructions in the city -

Suggested reading -

October 19, 2014

Nili/Neeli Masjid, Delhi

A year and a half ago, exploring on foot the lavishly affluent Hauz Khas village area, that has become symbolic of ultra-rich fashion and fine dining with its many lounge bars, designer showrooms and merchandise outlets and yet retains a hemmed in, “village-like” feel in part because of its secluded existence isolated from all the real villages that flank it on every side, was when I first came across the enchanting Nili/Neeli Masjid (“Blue Mosque”). Dead camera batteries bounced in the bag, nodding affirmation to the subdued magnificence and beckoning grandeur of the Hauz Khas ruin cluster (refer Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex), leaving me with no option except making a mental note of the directions to access the beautiful mosque in order to return at a later date and photograph its humble glory.

The Blue Mosque - What's in a name?

But as time would have it, few months later I met with an accident in Calcutta that left me with 14 fractures, a shattered left arm and numerous other wounds – and where would my family take me for orthopaedic consultation upon the much anticipated return to Delhi – you guessed it right – Hauz Khas and then too in the immediate vicinity of the mosque! In fact, my orthopaedician-surgeon Dr Rajnish Gupta maintained his residential clinic so near the medieval mosque that I passed it nearly every day on my way to and from for severely excruciating surgeries, monotonous physiotherapy sessions and often incapacitating painful consultations – but the sorest agony remained my inability to even lift a camera and click the 500-year old mosque despite passing by it every day and the festering urge that had grown out of a deep nurtured wish to return to the structure and document and photograph it to my heart’s desire! Finally, almost a year later, following the declaration of fitness by the jovial doctor, I joyously returned to the mosque and clicked it despite the fact that it was raining and thundering relentlessly and my vehement insistence on heading to the mosque was also accompanied by brutal naggings from my cousin who accompanied me that I’ll wet the camera and damage it perennially. But there was a sensation of completion, of fulfillment – a year later, life had come full circle!

A sketch of the mosque depicting the architectural features and artistic motifs (Photo courtesy - Ioc.u-tokyo.ac.jp). It is sad that there are no Indian sites/studies generating the architectural layouts of the monuments.

According to an inscription plaque above its central arched entrance, the graceful mosque, surrounded by an ornamental enclosure along its front face that itself is flanked on the corners by enormously thick decorated bastions, was commissioned in AD 1505-06 by Kasumbhil, wet nurse of Fatah Khan, son of Khan-i-Azam (“The Greatest Lord”) Masnad-i-Ali ("Seat of the Faith") Khawas Khan, Governor of Delhi during the reign of Emperor Sikandar Lodi (ruled AD 1489-1517). Kasumbhil is thus regarded amongst the line of several distinguished women who patronized massive architecture and transformed Delhi’s landscape though their additions, most notable among them being Hamida Banu Begum who commissioned Humayun’s tomb complex (refer Pixelated Memories - Humayun's Tomb Complex), Maham Anga who had Khair-ul-Manazil mosque built (refer Pixelated Memories - Khair-ul-Manazil Mosque) and Qudsia Begum who constructed the Dargah Shah-e-Mardan complex (refer Pixelated Memories - Dargah Shah-e-Mardan Complex). Apart from its unique ornamental bastions and the tapering conical supporting towers along its back (western) wall, there aren’t many other distinctive features distinguishing the mosque from several other medieval structures. The single dome surmounting the rectangular structure springs from an octagonal drum (base) whose each corner is marked by slender turrets; the central of the three equally proportioned arched entrances allowing access to the mosque interiors is set in a protruding rectangular embossment; slender turrets also emerge from the corners of the roof and the said central rectangular embossment. Along the roof runs an especially intricate line of kanguras (battlement-like ornamentation) inset with vibrant blue tiles, thus generating the nomenclature – Nili Masjid or Blue Mosque, however it appears that the ornamentation was only limited to the portion above the central facade; where the tiles should have been along the rest of the front face runs a wide “chajja” (overhanging eave) supported on rather thick simplistically carved brackets.

Blue tiles, calligraphy and exquisite artwork

The overall image is of opulence, indulgence indeed but not flamboyance – instead by limiting the adornment to the roof features and the small alcoves that flank the entrances, an aura of simplistic elegance has been thoughtfully imparted. There is also a well within the fenced, ambiently-vegetated enclosure around the mosque – but I do not recall seeing the fence the first time I was here, then the mosque's surrounding green square simply opened to the road along an entire side and a characteristic red Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) sign identified it. The mosque seems to have been plastered very recently as part of regular conservation-restoration regime, though the roof and its ornamental features remain untouched. It is still used for offering prayers by devotees and expectedly the interiors have been considerably altered – a long prayer mat covers the entire floor and another is rolled up and stacked in the corner; a religious instructor was preaching and calling the faithful for prayers and his voice resounded through the loudspeaker installed on the roof – clicking seemed a precarious option considering that there were already several devotees inside not inclined to be disturbed by a unbelievably cheerful photographer less than a third of their age. The mosque is one of the few that are under control of the ASI and still used to offer prayers – the encroachments can be distinguished rather easily, apart from the prayer mats and the obvious pressures exerted on the 500-year old structure, there are coolers fixed into the arched openings in the shorter sides of the mosque, fans and loudspeakers along the roof and tube lights nailed to the front facade.

View from the threshold of the foliage-covered open patch. In the right foreground is the well.

Despite the obvious contravention of rules regarding monuments and heritage sites and the affixing of modern fixtures to the its vintage walls, the mosque retains a certain grandeur, at least when viewed from the lush, tree-lined square it possesses around it, if not from the road which physically and abruptly cuts through its limited realm of forgotten existence. It is from here that one can click numerous compositions and perspectives of the little mosque, its unique architectural and ornamental features and the masculine bastions flanking it. Happy clicking!

Side profile of the mosque. The second picture illustrates the architectural layout and the interior features vis-a-vis external structure. (Photo courtesy - Ioc.u-tokyo.ac.jp)

Location: H-Block, off Aurobindo Road, Hauz Khas market (Coordinates: 28°33'12.9"N 77°12'25.3"E)
Nearest Metro station: Green Park

Nearest Bus stop: Hauz Khas
How to reach: Walk from the metro station (850 meters) or the bus stop (250 meters). If coming from the metro station, walk towards Hauz Khas bus stop. A massive white marble-lined mosque with towering minarets (Highway Masjid) exists on the Aurobindo Road near the bus stop and the road immediately opposite leads within to H-Block residential areas and the Nili Masjid.

Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 min

Also located nearby - Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex

Delhi's other monuments also commissioned by women -

Suggested reading -

August 05, 2014

Deer Park, Delhi

Teeming with a much admired variety of flora and fauna , one of Delhi’s largest green lungs and a delight for nature enthusiasts and joggers alike, the aptly named Deer Park in Hauz Khas has endeared itself amongst heritage lovers for another reason – the thickly forested, almost pristine grounds present to visitors a feast of monuments that remains hidden behind multiple layers of foliage and is reached by following a labyrinthine trail convoluting and turning over itself throughout the massive park – in fact, it is the sheer frustration at being repeatedly brought back to the same point by the slithering, sneaking maze-like pathway and the mind-boggling confusion about finding the correct way in the vast, unmanageable park that might prove a hindrance (if you do consider these one) to locating all three medieval tombs within the complex – but then it is the thrill of discovering these forgotten beautiful structures through veils of vegetation and a complexity of trails that drives the enthusiasts and the curious to explore this hidden magical nook in the heart of the city. The park promises to present to visitors the momentary surreal feeling of awestruck surprise at the sight of a marvelous centuries-old structure that just might peep out all of a sudden through thick layers of vegetation and a tangle of branches and vines or behind vibrantly colorful swings or even amidst unbelievably large mounds of dead and dry gnarled wood! For couples, the park is a heaven, one of the last remaining bastions where young lovers can meet without being judged, disturbed or subjected to moral policing by the older generations and right-wing brigades, though of course, there might be a few lonely, frustrated guys lurking behind a tomb or a tree and sneaking up on couples and clicking them while they get physical.

At Deer Park

It was a particularly sunny summer afternoon when I visited the park and the adjacent Hauz Khas complex (check Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas Complex) – the trees seemed parched, the concrete felt as if it would melt under the fiery onslaught and the air itself struggled to escape the scorching clutch of the sun – the park’s huge trees, with their wide spread of branches and dense foliage, conspired to keep the sun from showing its dreaded face to those who were seeking asylum under their wild expanse, thereby providing much appreciated relief to humanity and wildlife. But as evidenced by the presence of scores of couples who throng to the park at all times of the day irrespective of blistering sun or drenching rain, love knows no bounds! It has been often observed that all medieval structures – be they tombs, mosques, pavilions or palaces – tend to be considerably cooler than the surrounding environments as a result of location-specific architectural practices, honed over centuries of construction, employed in their building – it is therefore no surprise that the tombs within the park become a refuge during the daytime for dreary visitors, tired couples, heat-struck rodents and hassled birds. Though at all times the park remains threatened by vandals and deranged lovers who take to monuments to vent their emotions, be it love or anger or frustration, and often leave behind irritatingly disgusting love letters or abuses, such elements are more active during the day when the crowd is relatively less and thoroughly dispersed and there is little suspicion that anyone can go about such anti-social, anti-heritage activities diurnally – the few guards on duty have it real rough, having to patrol such vast space and managing undisciplined, and in all probability uneducated, louts and vandals who are adept at badmouthing and harassing at the slightest pretext – despite my rants against the poor state that the government has subjected the monuments to, I do feel bad for the guards.

Nothing stimulates an adrenaline rush like a friendly fight!

True to its name, the park has enclosures that house rabbits and deer and there are ponds where duck and geese waddle about in enjoyment. The deer are a real delight (probably apparent from the large number of photos I clicked), there are so many of them, and a few look suberbly majestic with their striking horns and chiseled bodies. Incidentally, it was much later that I found out about the monuments in the park, it was the deer I first read about it in a newspaper article, that’s what piqued my interest – who would have thought there are deer roaming about in a public park in Delhi! One can also spot rare avian visitors if one is observant enough – there are lapwings, peacocks, parrots, pigeons, mynas and occasional terns.

Of the three tombs within the park premises, the largest is Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad (“Tomb within the garden of the world”), a beautifully adorned, medium-sized tomb that seems to be a favorite with visitors, enchanting them with its modest blue tile work and exquisite multicolored medallion art on the interiors, and also attracting couples to its deep recessed alcoves where one can hope to shut out the world while embracing one’s beloved. Along the tomb is a beautiful rubble masonry wall mosque with thick turrets and a leaf-covered and bird dropping-drenched cemetery – look out for more couples in the hollow turrets, I found it amazing how people can clamber into such narrow spaces! Nearby stand the Tohfewala Gumbad (“Gifted tomb”), an unidentified tomb whose interiors are exceptionally well maintained even though the exteriors appear all run-down and crumbling, and Kali Gumti (“Little black domed structure”), another unidentified structure whose purpose for construction is unclear but whose nomenclature is arrived at after considering the organic mortar finish applied to its round dome that has taken a blackish hue over time. You can look up these structures here – Pixelated Memories - Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad, Pixelated Memories - Kali Gumti and Pixelated Memories - Tohfewala Gumbad.

Majestic - Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad

The park has been modeled by the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) into creating a space to keep the local residents physically fit through the utilization of several simple exercise regimes along a fitness trail and the employment of info boards to guide and explain exercises to the visitors – the exercises are numerous and jocularly interesting, thanks in part to their naming and also to the strange set of accompanying instructions, take for instance “Jumping Jack”, “Balancing Beam”, “Straddle Walk”, “Spinal Exercise”, “Knee Bend” – it is another matter that rarely do people follow these instructions, nor are there many visitors, except couples, to the park except during early morning and evening.

Over the past few years, the park has been in the news for all the wrong reasons – official apathy, poor conservation-restoration of monuments, poor horticultural maintenance, lack of control over vandals and unruly elements, unclean animal enclosures straddled with garbage and polybags, maintenance-related issues and garbage dumping – at least the park was actually clean the day I was there – there weren’t any heaps of garbage, nor any disturbing elements, though yes, the issue of defacement and spoiling of public property, monuments especially, is glaringly rampant in the park premises; the park trails were being relaid with brick red soil and the guards were actually going about and looking after the property. Public facilities are another issue – though there are water coolers near the entrance gate, they seemed to be in a disgusting state of maintenance (the basin hasn’t been cleaned in ages, the taps do not close properly and are forever dripping thereby leading to moss deposits along the basin walls and overspill along the tiled walkways, the perennially filled basins have been taken over by hornets and one has to hope for their mercy while edging closer for a sip). It would take some time for Delhi to get its act together, the city is after all aiming for a UNESCO World Heritage City status, but at least it’s a start – in a city where parks, wetlands and forest covers are rapidly diminishing and children have to come out to play on streets for lack of proper parks and sporting facilities, such a vast green space is truly an unexpected delight!

Look at those horns!

Location: Hauz Khas
Nearest Metro station: Green Park

How to reach: Walk/take an auto from the metro station to the park.

Entrance fees: Nil

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 45 min

Relevant Links -

Suggested Reading -