Mubarak Shah Saiyyid's Tomb, Delhi

“Na kisi ki aankh ka noor hun, na kisi ke dil ka qaraar hun,

Jo kisi ke kaam na aa sake, main who ek musht-e-ghubar hun

Paie fateeha koi aaye kyun, koi chaar phool charhaae kyun,

Aa ke shamaa koi jalaye kyun, main wo be-kasi ka mazaar hun”

(“I’m the light of no one’s eye, the joy of no one’s heart am I.

That which can be of use to none – just a handful of dust am I.

Why should someone sing my dirge, or come lay a wreath?

I’m the mausoleum of helplessness, better left in dark.”)

– Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah “Zafar” II

(Reign AD 1837-57)

One of the city’s oldest monuments, and then too not just a mere medieval edifice but the mausoleum of Sultan Muizuddin Mubarak Shah Saiyyid, the resourceful sovereign emperor (ruled AD 1421-34) who reigned over vast territories extending throughout northern India and contiguous sections of Pakistan, is a picture of gross mistreatment and semi-urban squalor in the heart of Kotla Mubarakpur, the fortified citadel he adoringly commissioned which is presently classified as an overpopulated, densely inhabited urban village (an oxymoron of course!) where an unfeasibly enormous number of multistory box-like, uninhabitably ramshackle residential buildings have so thickly mushroomed all around the mausoleum with such an unrestrained unconcern for civic facilities like roads, electricity and drainage that there are numerous stretches in the administratively unregulated colony where the buildings inch so dearly close to each other and tilt in such an alarmingly precarious fashion that they unbelievably render the clear sky a minute sliver of light peeping through – in fact, so dense is this semi-urban agglomeration, renowned as a commercial hub for sourcing construction material and interior furnishings, that Google Maps very nearly becomes worthless here considering that primarily there are no roads snaking through a majority of the urban village’s expanse, and where there are, the buildings have cropped up so close that no satellite can possibly visualize the road’s existence! Although the word “Kotla” translates to fortifications, which have long since disappeared under opposition from the relentlessly vicious forces of burgeoning urbanization and cataclysmic commercialization of land space, I shall nonetheless continue to refer to the urban village as the same for lack of a better term capable of indicating the delineation of the region’s boundaries.

Outrageous!

Mubarak Shah is said to have inherited a perilously fragmented empire from his shrewd father Sultan Khizr Khan Saiyyid (reign AD 1414-21) and the country was still healing from the tremendously brutal wounds inflicted by the remorseless Mongol invader Timur who aggressively plundered Delhi and all the magnificent cities that led to it in AD 1398. Nonetheless, Mubarak Shah proved to be a formidable emperor and an able administrator who incontestably commanded the unquestionable loyalty of a powerful army and continuously undertook fierce punitive expeditions throughout his short reign against rebellious governors and local Hindu chieftains who had transformed the country into a perennially explosive keg. Unlike his forever-cautious father, he also possessed the resolved pugnacity to forfeit any allegiance to Timur and his equally ruthless descendants. Sadly though, he did not show the same cunning in appointing government officials – unchallenged by any administrative or financial checks and balances, powerful local chieftains and conniving court nobles ran the entire country like their own personal fiefs and soon enough, his prime minister ("Wazir”) Sarwar ul-Mulk, blinded alike by his own considerable influence and his contempt for the government of the day, physically assaulted and assassinated the Sultan soon after he dismissed him from service. The magnificent octagonal mausoleum is said to have been planned by Mubarak Shah himself during his lifetime but was commissioned after his demise by his nephew and successor Sultan Muhammad Shah Saiyyid (reign AD 1434-44) – wretchedly however, the massive edifice is so thoroughly surrounded by cramped multistory residential buildings and shop clusters that it is presently impossible to observe any aspect of it appreciably well and one has to eventually rely upon Muhammad Shah’s own strikingly beautiful mausoleum to properly visualize the former’s erstwhile impressiveness (refer Pixelated Memories - Muhammad Shah Saiyyid's Tomb, Lodi Gardens).

A sliver of magnificence

The satellite view of Kotla Mubarakpur on Google Maps facilitates an interesting observation – the tomb, or its enormous dome rather, stands out prominently in the center and the entire unregulated colony separated from it only by a circumambulating street has developed around it in such a cheek by jowl manner that the contours of the beyond belief narrow streets and the numerous rows of houses turn correspondingly along its octagonal peripheries as if reluctant to let waste even a single square inch of encroachable land! On the ground, owing to the presence of several shops dealing with construction material such as cement and the like, an impenetrable cloud of bleached dust and cement which imparts an unpleasantly hazy appearance to everything perpetually hangs over the road and is stirred up furthermore by the continuous passage of pedestrians, cyclists and children wantonly sprinting around. Good-naturedly hoping to prevent defacement and suspected demolition of the medieval monument but also perhaps in no small measure attempting to escape their own fundamental obligation towards its protection and conservation, Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) has erected a high iron-grille all around its peripheries, although that laughably doesn’t in any way prevent the locals who stack gunny bags of sand and cement all around it – I suspect that ASI assumes that like an impermeable shield, the thick cladding of invasive plants and weeds emerging from the monument’s roof and immense dome would unarguably protect it from the relentless pressures of urbanization and vandalism!

Overlooking history - Mubarak Shah's immediate neighbor is a lavatory!

The mausoleum is nonetheless opened to visitors every Thursday since the locals refuse to accept that this grand edifice entombs a short-lived emperor and continue to regard it as the hallowed shrine of a medieval Sufi saint. A small, gated opening in the iron grille can be used for entry and egress on other days as well, but the day I visited the gate was locked and there was no caretaker to be seen around – neighborhood shopkeepers assured me he had merely gone for tea and should be back soon – I’m till date not sure how much tea did he drink since he did not return in the hour and a half I spent snooping around on the monument from people’s rooftops.

A fine monument built in the architectural style ubiquitously favored by the Saiyyid dynasty royalty, it consists of a large octagonal chamber surrounded by a spacious pillared veranda running parallel to each side and surmounted by a high, slightly protuberant but nonetheless graceful dome. Among the features displayed by the tomb are a continuous, badly damaged eave (“chajja”) along the roof supported by equally spaced brackets, “chattris” (umbrella domes mounted on slender pillars) raised on the parapet above each of the sides, strong buttressed tapering pillars dressed with grey Delhi quartzite stone along each corner of the octagon (to afford enhanced structural stability) and three arched entrances on each side along the edge of verandah.

Claustrophobic! - Enroute to Mubarak Shah's mausoleum

The parapet, the sixteen-sided drum (base) of the dome and the eight-sided drums of the smaller domes of the chattris – each is distinguished by a very prominent row of “kanguras” (battlement-like ornamentation); elegantly tall slender ornamental turrets emerge from each corner of the drum of the central dome and stylishly punctuate the row of kanguras at this level, thereby further accentuating the overall image of a fascinatingly detailed, architecturally opulent funerary structure otherwise subdued in terms of grandeur and colorfulness. The only exception to the overall lack of flamboyance is an intriguingly unusual, bright red sandstone kiosk peppered with white marble highlights crowning the massive dome. Each side of the mausoleum except the western is pierced by an entrance whose heavy stone lintels culminate into painstakingly sculpted exquisite floral patterns; the western wall is filled in with a stone latticework screen so that it functions in the capacity of a mihrab (western wall of a religious/funerary structure indicating the direction of Mecca and faced by the faithful while offering prayers).

The funerary mosque associated with the mausoleum has been so irrevocably and horribly swallowed by the aforementioned surge of modern constructions that it has become irreversibly separated physically and contextually from the mausoleum and to reach it one does have to do significant legwork through successively narrower streets that invariably end in cul-de-sacs or lead to directions other than the ones one wishes to proceed to. Soon enough, climbing atop rooftops of the substantially taller buildings (of course after asking permission!) in order to navigate is the only option one can consider.

The funerary mosque - A monument swallowed by urbanization

The mosque has been relegated to the wretched existence of a local dumping ground carpeted with mounds of polythene bags stuffed with foul-smelling rotten organic wastes, shards of broken beer bottles and even excreta that the locals projectile as obnoxious missiles from their terraces to the huge cobblestone-paved courtyard adjoining it or leave lining the outer sides of the walls that enclose it (where they do not adjoin other houses – several neighborhood buildings in fact share walls with the mosque’s peripheries! So much for the government’s Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Sites and Remains Act!). But make no mistake – the monument has not been entirely abandoned by mankind – children use occasional clearings in the garbage-stuffed courtyard as a playground and perhaps considering that not many others would venture close to a place that insufferably stenches of rotten wastes, accumulated runoff water and putrid excreta, the covered portion of the mosque is thoughtfully utilized as their very own hangout zone by local alcohol and marijuana addicts who can be seen, bottles and joints in hand, even in broad daylight whiling away their time playing cards and gossiping along the corners. One cannot help feeling heartbroken at the gruesome sight of the delightfully simplistic mosque’s present shameful existence and miniscule probability of improved future prospects.

Surmounted by three domes, the rectangular structure is accessible via five arched entrances supported on crudely crafted double-pillars that were a characteristic feature of the militaristic Tughlaq Dynasty (reign AD 1320-98) who preceded the Saiyyid supremacy. The mosque features exquisite plasterwork medallions, a wide eave (“chajja”) supported on heavy stone brackets, kangura patterns and (on the inside) sorry remains of miniature alcoves styled into numerous intricate geometric and floral patterns. The subdued grandeur, formality of architectural plan and the overall artistic starkness are heartbreaking and confer on the monument a distinctive dignity that refuses to be intimidated to submission even by its unforeseen fall from graceful sophistication to the station of a foul-smelling, visually unappealing garbage heap.

Dignified!

Along one side, a staircase layered with shards of beer bottles and cigarette packs leads upstairs to the mosque’s roof from where one can rummage upon the elusiveness of even the minutest trace of optimism for the pitiable mosque while at the same time feel dwarfed by the towering buildings that flank it on either side and grievously observe and photograph the sheer scale of unwarranted devastation inflicted by inconsiderate locals.

The mausoleum is generally regarded to be the second (of only six!) octagonal tomb to be built in Delhi (three others have been previously documented on this blog here – Pixelated Memories - Adham Khan's Tomb, Pixelated Memories - Isa Khan's Tomb Complex and Pixelated Memories - Muhammad Shah Saiyyid's Tomb). It is also the first instance of a mausoleum to be conceived surrounded by an enclosed fortified garden (which has vanished long since). Also, the funerary mosque associated with the mausoleum is accepted to be the only one built during the Saiyyid Dynasty reign (AD 1414-51) to have survived. Given the excellent statistics associated with them, it is profoundly unacceptable that the mosque-mausoleum languish in such decrepitude and conservational poverty. I do not oppose the local population’s right to venerate the mausoleum as a shrine and frequent it on a daily basis if they so wish but I do feel offended by the sickeningly disgusting treatment they have meted out to the somber mosque. Also, agreed that ASI works with a very mediocre budget and does not have the resources or skilled manpower to feasibly undertake conservation and restoration works, but it can at the very least provide a semblance of security and cleanliness to the monuments under its aegis – and if it cannot, I can mirthlessly only suggest that they lock and board up the monuments and prevent any and every form of entry to them until they can accumulate sufficient resources to safeguard and manage them satisfactorily – at least, we wouldn’t lose another monument to encroachments and general lackadaisical attitude of the populace and civic authorities. So shameful is the present scenario that post observing the deplorable circumstances of the two remarkable edifices and the all-encompassing neglect heaped by the civic authorities on them specifically and Kotla Mubarakpur in general, one instantaneously forgets any significant hopes of restoration and preservation and barely wishes that they at least miraculously survive for the next generation to witness.

Oh, the irony!

Location: Kotla Mubarakpur, near South Ex.I
Nearest Bus stop: South Ex. I
Nearest Metro station: AIIMS
How to reach: Walk/avail an auto rickshaw from South Ex. Ask for "Gumbad" after reaching Kotla Mubarakpur village. The mosque is more difficult to find and one has to climb the rooftops of neighborhood buildings to check the orientation and directions.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 min
Relevant Links - 
Other monuments located in the vicinity - Pixelated Memories - South Ex. Trail
Another Saiyyid-era monument in the city - Pixelated Memories - Muhammad Shah Saiyyid's Tomb
Suggested reading -

1. Footlooseindilli.blogspot.in - Tomb of Mubarak Shah - Kotla Mubarakpur
2. India-seminar.com - Article "A millennium of building, 50 years of destruction" by Ratish Nanda
3. Indianexpress.com - Article "The lost cities of Delhi" (dated Sep 27, 2009) by The lost cities of Delhi Alokparna Das 
4. Sarsonkekhet.in - Dilli Darshan: Sayyid and Lodhi Delhi

Tihar Jail – Graffiti and Haat, Delhi

“Subah likhti hun, Shaam likhti hun, 

Is Chardiwari mein baithi, bas tera naam likhti hun 

In faaslon mein jo gam ki judai hai, Usi ko har baar likhti hun 

Ye mere shabd nahin, dil ki aawaz hain, 

Khwaish zinda hai, Sochti hun subah kabhi to hogi hi, Har aas mein jeeti hun 

Haan, Subah likhti hun, Shaam likhti hun, 

Is Chardiwari mein baithi, bas tera naam likhti hun” 

(“I write in the morning, I write in the evening, 

Trapped between these four walls, I just write your name 

I continue to write about the sorrow of separation 

These are not my words, but the anguish of my heart, 

My dreams are still alive, I wait for the dawn and continue to live in hope 

I write in the morning, I write in the evening, 

Sitting in this prison, I just write your name”) 

Chaardiwari - Four Walls

An artistic transformation is in progress at Tihar jail. Asia’s largest prison complex now flaunts the country’s largest mural – spread over 968 meters, it is a blend of exquisite artwork and lyrics of a poem painted in the prominent street art textual style executed by extremely skilled artists. It is no secret that hand painted lettering that is symbolic of the subcontinent’s streetscape and a source of livelihood to thousands of painters and artists is dying a slow death at the hands of cheaper machine-printed vinyl and paper posters and text/art panels – an attempt is being made to jolt the lettering style back to life by the Delhi Street Art festival (“St. Art Delhi”) that is a brainchild of painter-artist Haneef Kureshi and envisages introducing the inhabitants of this antique city to the nuances of graffiti and street art. Hauz Khas and Shahpur Jat villages, the renowned hubs of textile designers and uber-expensive restaurants and bars, already display the handiwork of these talented artists, especially “Daku” (“Bandit”) who has left his mark on numerous walls and flyovers of Delhi through his trademark signature executed in the vernacular – but who would have ever thought that Tihar jail, that continues to remain a symbol of oppressive incarceration and inhumane treatment despite several reforms aimed at improving the social and emotional well being of the inmates besides police sensitization, would one day host this splatter of multi-hued and vibrant colors that are indicative of artistic freedom and imaginative abundance.

Tihar's other side

Nonetheless, to augment the mood within the prison walls and in solidarity with the inmates, the designs are largely subdued and depict numerous symbols reminiscent of the imprisonment of these men and women and the reasons thereof. The poem itself, entitled “Chardiwari” ("Four Walls"), has been composed by Seema Raghuvanshi, an inmate of the jail, and strikes an extremely poignant note, especially when read in Hindi (my English translation is horrible!). While the text follows a largely uniform pattern with the monotony being broken by the use of several different colors and shades ranging from vibrant reds to glittering blues and dazzling yellows, it is the artwork accomplished by the artists from the neighboring state of Uttar Pradesh and students of Delhi College of Arts that steals the show with its range of subjects and sketching styles – on a large gray panel is a caricature of a man drowning in a pit of black ink emanating from a pen, perhaps expounding on media trial of the accused and the assumption that a person is guilty before being proved so; another is a tempting collection of three panels painted side-by-side and interspersed by wide white margins depicting three dark angels confined in a space that is too congested for them; a third innovatively utilizes the trunk of a tree growing through the prison wall to depict a cruel, rough face that, in a commentary on the judicial system and law enforcement agencies, holds in its hands a cage and a bird respectively.

Atleast the tree cannot be held by the prison walls - One of my favorite panels

Another art piece, by graffiti artist Yantra, depicts, through a smooth blend of vibrantly colorful swirls and flourishes culminating into several heart shapes nudged in square panels reminiscent of diabolical machineries in cartoon shows, the mentality of a prisoner being transformed by the Tihar jail. Painted, in both Hindi and English, adjacent to one of the entrance/exit gate of the jail is the description – 

“Behind bars, Imprisoned in four walls, 

A set routine to be followed day after day. 

From mechanical conformation 

To a rehabilitated self, This was a jail 

Until it set my heart free.” 

The text is often interspersed by garbled lines looping several times upon themselves and painted in a variety of styles that can be seen so often painted through the city by juvenile graffiti artists. The impressive artwork is definitely worth a stop outside the jail premises, it beckoned me immediately the first time I passed it after it had been completed, yet very few passer-bys and none of the vehicles stop to admire the panels or read the touching words inscribed on the otherwise green-gray monotonous walls and I find it hard to believe that the residents of the city are unable to appreciate the execution of such wonderful artwork by these brilliant artists. 

Some words carried through and others lost in a jumble

I on my part never thought graffiti art could blossom in the country, especially since almost every public surface is considered open space for pasting horrible posters advertising everything from political parties to bakeries – somebody or the other would always cover up a beautiful piece of art with hideous posters (my eyes are on you ABVP and NSUI – shame on you for defacing public infrastructure, this wasn’t expected from students, especially those who claim to be the future of the country). Also graffiti is considered an offence under the West Bengal Prevention of Defacement of Property Act, 1976, which was later extended to other states as well. Section 3(1) of the Act states that whosoever defaces any property in public view by writing or marking with ink, chalk, paint or any other material except for the purpose of indicating the name and address of the owner or occupier of such property, shall be punishable with imprisonment for a term which may extend to one year or with fine which may extend to Rs 50,000, or with both. 

Another particularly scathing commentary - The media and public trials and the assumption of someone being guilty before being proved so.

But before I digress again – a gateway in the kilometer long front face of the prison complex where the graffiti–poetry is inscribed leads to the renowned Tihar Haat, an outlet for everyday FMCG products manufactured in the jail by prisoners. “Most of the prisoners here are victims of outbursts of rage which gripped them unexpectedly and propelled them to commit a crime they didn’t really intend to. Only a very small fraction are hardened criminals” pointed to me the middle-aged soft-spoken man who was running the Haat that day. Though he refused to share his name and the details of the crime he committed, he acknowledged that he was in for life imprisonment and no amount of remorse can alter his past. Delving into his emotions, which weren’t too far from the surface, perhaps owing to lack of people to talk to and his need to share his story, he confided that he misses his family and the prison system is a cruel one where the inmates do not have emotional solace or filial support. Though he didn’t have to live in the prison complex anymore owing to his good behavior and the grant of government accommodation opposite the complex which he shares with other inmates also employed in the Haat, he wasn’t free to do whatever he wanted or roam the city like he used to and it is the luxury of freedom that he missed most. I couldn’t fathom what to say to lessen his grief while he recounted his story but promised that I shall write about the graffiti mural and the Haat. 

Inside Tihar Haat - The furniture and art section

Though photography within the Haat premises is prohibited, I was able to click a few photographs while glancing through the goods shelves – the Haat is divided into several sections – the first one encountered is the pottery section immediately outside the well-ventilated showroom; inside, apart from daily use articles (soaps, oils), food products (pickles, spices, bakery items), jute bags, rugs and incense, the Haat also houses a publication and furniture department – I was introduced to the book “Tinka Tinka Tihar”, a voluminous anthology consisting of poetry and stories penned by the inmates and their photographs, possibly the centerpiece of the Haat given that all copies were wrapped in transparent plastic sheet and displayed prominently on the wall shelves. The furniture, especially the votive alcoves crafted from wood, have been crafted exceptionally skillfully and priced reasonably too. But the most splendid of all the items on sale are the numerous paintings and sketches, created by the inmates as part of psycho-therapeutic sessions, that adorn the entire interior surface of the Haat and mesmerize onlookers with artistic proficiency. Most of the bulkier items however were not for sale since one is required to first place an order for them and, given their worthiness and nominal pricing, they are so much in demand that usually a patron has to wait for a couple of months for delivery. 

Angels, fallen and confined

Apart from the boutique and the FMCG department, the Haat also possesses a small cafeteria and a seating arrangement outside that is enclosed and roofed by fiber glass panels. The inmates, most of them being skilled workers and yet entitled to a meager salary of Rs 74 per day, refuse to be photographed and dejectedly I again feel the terrible pinch of what had just been discussed about guilt and stigma.

"This is not Street Art" (specified near the prison entrance)

Location: Jail Road, near Janakpuri
Nearest Metro Station: Tilak Nagar
Nearest Bus stop: Tihar Jail
How to reach: Buses are available from different parts of the city for Tilak Nagar and Jail Road. One can avail a bus/auto from the Tilak Nagar metro station which is located couple of kilometers from the prison complex.
Open: All days, 10 am - 5 pm

More graffiti abounds here - Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas complex
Suggested Reading -

1. Blogs.wsj.com - Article "Photo Essay: Delhi’s Street Art Festival" (dated Feb 2, 2014) By Aditi Malhotra and Enrico Fabian
2. Dnaindia.com - Article "Digitising hand-painted lettering" (dated June 26, 2011) by Kareena Gianani
3. Economist.com - Article "Tihar prison in India: More dovecote than jail" (dated March 5, 2012)
4. Expressindia.indianexpress.com - Article "For two Tihar Jail inmates, freedom for seven hours every day" (dated Apr 10, 2012) by Geeta Gupta
5. Thehindu.com - Article "Tihar Jail's brush with colours" (dated March 2, 2014) by Kritika Sharma
6. Tihartj.nic.in (Official website of Tihar Haat)
7. Timesofindia.indiatimes.com - Article "Art, song bring Tihar walls to life" (dated March 20, 2014) by Kim Arora
8. Wikipedia.org - Tihar Jail

Kshitish's Durgapur

The last post I put on was shared from my cousin’s photo-blog & it’s been more than a week since I myself wrote anything. I haven’t grown lazy over the past few days (ok, a little bit), but the main reason to be blamed for this lack of activity is the internet connection at my college. We are provided with high-speed internet connectivity & LAN inter-connectivity & I spend my entire days surfing the internet for reading material & history stuff like an addict. Hence, the dereliction of duty towards this blog. Thursday was a holiday, it was celebrated as the Hindu God Krishna’s birthday throughout the country. Had I been back in Delhi I would have gone to the temple nearest to my house & taken photographs of the proceedings & celebration. But Janmashtami (as the occasion is called in Hindi) is not celebrated with the same pomp & gaiety in Bengal. Oh! How I miss Delhi!!

My friend Kshitish (who has become a fixture in this blog’s posts, in terms of new ideas & topics for photography) suggested we visit the nearby rural/semi-urban areas of Durgapur (that’s where my college is situated, some 3 hours from Calcutta). I was baffled – to a Delhiite, the entire Durgapur is semi-urban!! So we decided for a photo walk at 6 in the morning. Sadly neither of us woke up at the decided time & 4 hour later while brushing our teeth we were still discussing where to go. The sun was up high & it was getting real hot & sticky humid & we decided to convert the photo walk to a photo motorcycle ride (if there is any such thing). We borrowed a rickety motorcycle - that stopped more than it ran - from a friend (no names – he would flay us if we say anything about his bike) & off we were. Wandering here & there through parts of the city we had already seen, still confused about where to head. For the uninitiated, Durgapur is one of the most planned cities of the country, boasting of 2 national resources – the Durgapur Steel Plant (DSP as it is called) & your truly’s college (wonders of wonders!!). There are wide roads, boulevards, public parks – but the city planners could not change the rural nature of the township & there are no large malls (except one) or markets (again except one) or for that matter, any other spot of historical or national importance. So phut-phutting our way around, Kshitish decided that we should stop at a tea-shop & have some cigarettes & then continue from there on foot. From one tea-shop to other, we wandered & talked to people. Actually, Kshitish talked to people. I somehow could not open up to strangers as he does. & while he talked, I photographed birds. & dogs. & goats. & more birds. I am posting a picture I clicked (& we all liked) – the bird is called “Lali” in Hindi. I couldn't find its English nomenclature.

Lali Bird

At a small run-down tea-shop we met an old man selling lottery tickets. The guy used to work at DSP for more than 40 years & considers himself a “Sarkari Aadmi” (Government Official). He did indeed tell us that the lottery tickets are all sanctioned by the Sikkim Govt. & thanks to him several people had earned a lot of money. So Kshitish made him pose with a “V for Victory” sign to show his happiness over helping others rake in heaps of cash!!

The king-maker - Lottery ticket seller

The shop owner was a middle-aged lady with a pale face, jet-black hair & was very shy by nature. In fact Kshitish had to coax her to get a photograph clicked. & oh she was so jubilant when I showed her the photograph in my camera. Perhaps this was the first time she has been clicked. It should have been obvious to us, we are in Bengal, one of the poorest states of the country, where millions starve everyday & Calcutta boasts of Asia’s largest red-light district.

Lady in orange - Tea shop owner

Next we headed to a nearby temple, where I was handed dates as Prasad (offering) & allowed to click pictures of the beggars. The beggars too were very happy on being clicked, & wanted me to take more photographs of them while the priests tried to shoo me away. The beggars & truck drivers lying here & there seemed wasted with liquor & disease. It was very moving & I guess any sane person would have felt pangs of pain at the sight. Though most Indians have seen so much of poverty & deprivation that they have become numb to it & don’t even spare a second glance – leave alone some coins for the poor, or even sympathy!! The beggars did ask me for money when I was done & though several of the books & guides or even photography tutorials would tell you never to give money to beggars while in India, it is very difficult not to do so after seeing their horrible conditions & many-a-times, disfigured or amputated bodies.

Withered & wasted - A beggar

While I was at the temple (yes I was alone there & my poor communication skills made sure that the priest finally shouted me out of his premises – I sometimes feel like a foreigner in my own country!!) Kshitish went to a small school next door. While the entire country celebrated a vacation on Janmashtami, the kids & teachers had gathered at the Govt. funded school for the mid-day meal. It is a scheme started by the Govt. sometime back with the aim of providing nutrition to the poor & needy children & decrease the school dropout rates by providing free food to all kids who have enrolled themselves in the educational institutions. Besides this the scheme has also helped bring down the barriers of castes & religion in certain parts of the country by seating the kids together for meals without any distinction (special attention to “certain parts”). The kids were all the more eager to get themselves clicked & literally clambered all over me & Kshitish. It was so much exhilarating & at the slightest indication of a picture being clicked, they would all gather together in a tight group lest someone remained out of the photo.

The eyes say it all..

I could only take very few “portraits”, the rest are all more of group photos with everyone pushing everyone else to get in the frame. I was shoved & pulled & made to get down on my knees to show the photos to the kids & I actually enjoyed it (ok, one part of me was afraid that I would break the new camera!! My heart stopped pounding every time someone took the camera from my hands!!). But the kids looked so innocent & cute & their eyes sparkled to show signs of mischief, & the way they all laughed at each other’s photos (or may be at my photography) was so refreshing, & their curiosity heart-warming. Half an hour later, I had to literally shake all the little ones off myself in order to get up. We didn’t want to leave, & the kids too didn’t want us to leave, but the school was in progress & though the teachers had been so very cooperative with us, we didn’t want to waste the class hours & left again on the phut-phut motorbike which roars when starting. The kids all ran out to the front porch of the one-room school to bid us farewell & their “byes” could be heard even though we had covered some distance between ourselves.

Sparkling white - One of the kiddos

It has started to drizzle softly & we were enjoying the sudden change in weather (Durgapur is like that only – one minute sunny, the next it’s raining) & the cool breeze, & decided to head back home. In one of the alleys, we saw a small structure composed of stitched cane & woven bamboo, kind of like a glorified hut. Several young men had assembled there for a friendly match of carom in the amazing weather & over shared cigarettes & discussions about college life, we took several shots of the players & their endless games.

Let the games begin..

Returning to the college, I began thinking that Durgapur is a much better place then I used to think it was. Kshitish made me see a new, beautiful township full of beaming people eager to share their stories, happy in the confines of their own small worlds - contented might be the word to describe them – quick to form bonds over cups of steaming tea & cigarettes, ready to leave the tasks they have at hand to welcome you to their shops & schools. Perhaps this is the real India & I am actually a tourist in my own land. I have to see a lot now & waiting for the next Durgapur tour & have a feeling that I will miss Durgapur (& Bengal as a whole) a lot when I leave for Delhi for good.

It's not a Pokemon, you know..