Pixelated Memories: Ruins

Showing posts with label Ruins. 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 -

July 06, 2015

Qila Rai Pithora, Saket, Delhi

“Primordial Delhi set the pattern for violence – it has always marked the city’s existence. Small wonder that all the Delhis that were to follow faced political upheaval involving a fair amount of violence. The first recorded war for the throne of Delhi – mythological as it might be – is narrated in the Mahabharata.”

– Raza Rumi, “Delhi by heart”

For a historical entity whose near-perennial existence chronologically spans over 5,000 years and is yet far from culmination, a singular diurnal event might as well be regarded as a minor occurrence with unbelievably little chance of surviving in memory and consequences against the rapid passage of the sands of time – and yet, occasionally transpires a remarkable event, often unforeseen, that, through the repercussions that follow its manifestation, literally mutates for successive ages not only the physical landscape but also the emotional and creative wellbeing of the entity involved. With respect to Delhi’s unrelentingly fierce and unusual history, this one event can at best be summed up into one particular moment of enormously significant impact – the defeat of Maharaja Prithviraj Chauhan III’s powerful armies at the hands of the fearsome forces commanded by Sultan Muhammad Muizzuddin ibn Sam Shihabuddin Ghuri in the Second Battle of Tarain (AD 1192). The sudden military upheaval that witnessed the transformation of the powers that be of Delhi, altogether a formidable regime in terms of territorial and financial capabilities, from native Hindu to Turkish-Afghan Islamic Emperors left behind an unsurpassable legacy in terms of religious, architectural-artistic and emotional existence of the entire subcontinent and continues to pose far-reaching effects that unceasingly evade conclusion – of these, of course, the foremost being the question of the religious subdual, inexorable massacre, chronic exploitation, remorseless enslavement and cultural genocide of the Hindu population of the country at the hands of these foreigner Islamic armies and the post-independence status – religious, cultural as well as territorial – of the descendants of these ravaging Muslim invaders and the natives whom they converted to Islam over several centuries of uninterrupted reign.

As gleamed off from the epic poem “Prithviraj Raso” composed by contemporaneous bard Chand Bardai, highly embellished and often fabricated threads of mythology and bardic folklore juxtapose with cruel facts of history to constitute the life, territorial domains and exploits of Prithviraj Chauhan who presently is unambiguously regarded as one of the foremost rulers to have reigned over the subcontinent and presented an aggressive opposition to the relentless fanatical forces of pillaging-plundering Islamic invaders. He defeated, albeit not crushingly, Muhammad Ghuri and magnanimously set him free, only to be ruthlessly opposed, contemptuously defeated, barbarically imprisoned and disdainfully dragged as a captive to the vast, unpitying plains of Afghanistan the very next year by him. Of course, the decimation of the armies commanded by Maharaja Prithviraj, who was bequeathed the throne of Delhi at the age of 13 by his maternal grandfather Anangpal Tomar II (another theory is that Prithviraj defeated Anangpal around 1150-60 AD), had less to do with the military might of the enemy and more to do with his own policy of territorial aggression against his neighbors which alienated him from all the major political centers and warlords of the country, including his own father-in-law Raja Jaichand Rathore of Kannauj (in modern-day Uttar Pradesh) whom he unrepentantly humiliated by arriving uninvited at his daughter’s “Swayamvar” (where a princess chooses her husband from amongst the assembled suitors) and eloping with her.

The first Delhi

In Afghanistan, the formerly mighty king was beaten mercilessly and blinded by the soldiers of Muhammad Ghuri and dragged alongside the regal procession so he can witness the proceedings and rue his own pitiful existence – on one such ordeal, observing an archery competition, he expressed his wish to participate against a worthy opponent – Sultan Ghuri himself if he dared face him – only to be ridiculed and taken to the task. Chand Bardai (who claimed to be a captive himself in the exceedingly long train of enslaved prisoners) magnifies Maharaja Prithviraj’s feats by claiming that he killed Ghuri by shooting a “Shabadbhedi baan” whereby an archer, blind or blindfolded, estimates and targets his enemy by merely listening to his voice! He was afterwards brutally murdered by the rampaging soldiers of Sultan Muhammad and his sarcophagus in Afghanistan, located immediately adjacent the latter’s, is still abused, spat upon and stomped on by Afghan locals and warlords alike – occasional noises are made by Indian Parliamentarians and Hindu leaders to have the remains exhumed and transported back to Delhi, but, as is the case with all noise, it too fizzles out and is forgotten without much action or groundwork. The fact is of course not recorded in history and Muhammad Ghuri’s own chronicles record that Maharaja Prithviraj had attempted to flee the battlefield in the face of disgraceful defeat and captured and executed on the battlefield, though Sultan Muhammad decreed that his bloodied mortal remains be carried to Afghanistan where he be buried like a Muslim as a final humiliation heaped post-death. Sultan Muhammad himself was later assassinated by the henchmen of some local warlords.

It would come as a surprise to note that the remains of Maharaja Prithviraj’s impregnable fortress’ unassailably thick rubble walls exist merely a stone’s throw away from the perennially crowded Saket metro station-bus stop combine! Notwithstanding how impressive the ruins are, one could be forgiven to wonder why Emperors would face off for these stones and sacrifice the lives of hundreds of thousands of praiseworthy loyal men. Christened Qila Rai Pithora after Rai Pithor as Maharaja Prithviraj was often referred to as, the colossal fortress’s periphery walls, appearing like a grey-red pearl necklace, survive as a perceptibly curving thick curtain wall punctuated by enormous fortified bastions that exist as mere stubs weathered almost to the base by the unremitting forces of nature and the advance of urbanization and construction which over time prompted the inhabitants of the surrounding areas to even cart off the rubble to build new edifices. Along its sides runs a narrow tract of grass-shrouded lawn, dotted with thorny shrubbery and the occasional Indian Laburnum trees (“Amaltas”/Cassia fistula) indiscriminately showering the ground around with heartwarming golden-yellow petals, which delineates and veils it against the flow of traffic and the peering eyes that peep through the numerous residential blocks existential across the road. But tread the ground for almost a kilometer and chillum-smoking groups of youngsters give way to dreadfully silent isolation; vibrant, brilliantly colored butterflies disappear and in their place appear huge hornets and hordes of persistently buzzing, low flying mosquitoes; and the grass carpet turns into deep, mushy soil that smells of rot and dung and death by stench! The fortress walls themselves, in the beginning 2-18 feet high and 5-6 feet thick, transform into near-collapsed ruins, the glimmering grey quartzite dressing disappearing and revealing the brown-red underbelly of brick and mortar, threateningly reclaimed by foliage and thoroughly colonized by overwhelming shrubbery and vines into thick, dangerously dark and grotesquely gnarled wild hedges – the desolation is total, the stillness ear-splitting.

A touch of gold

Gazing at the ruined desolation, one cannot help reminiscing the words of Bahadur Shah “Zafar” II (reign AD 1837-57), the last Emperor of Delhi –

“Nahi haal-e-Dehli sunane ke qabil, ye qissa hai rone rulane ke qabil

Ujade luteron ne wo qasr is ke jo the dekhne aur dikhane ke qabil

Na ghar hai na dar hai raha ik Zafar hai, faqat haal-e-Dehli sunane ke qabil”

(“Not worthy of narration is the tale of Delhi. This story is for crying and wailing

Raiders have destroyed such palaces that were to be praised and described

Neither home is left nor hearth, Only Zafar remains to tell the tale of Delhi")

Location: Couple of meters from Saket Metro station on the road leading to the garden of Five Senses (Coordinates: 28°31'13.2"N 77°11'58.7"E)
Nearest Metro station: Saket (Saiyadul Ajaib exit)
Nearest Bus stop: Saket metro station
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 min
Relevant Links -
Other monuments/landmarks located in the vicinity -

Suggested reading -

June 12, 2015

Sheikh Yusuf Qattal's Tomb, Saket, Delhi

"Tha woh to rashke hoor-e-behesti hameen mein Mir!
Samjhe na hum to fahm ka apne qasoor tha"

("That hoor from paradise was part of my being, Mir.
I did not understand and blame my utter lack of comprehension of the ultimate truth.")

– Mir Taqi Mir, Urdu poet (lived AD 1723-1810)

Past the narrow streets of Khirki Village – sewage and sludge-drenched, garbage-shrouded, perennially crowded and recently touched up with vibrant, brilliantly multi-hued graffiti artwork – exists a small expanse of land, minimally layered with dry, withering grass and near continuously peopled with marijuana and smack addicts and teenagers playing extremely boisterous games, that seems to have got estranged in time eons far-off in history, where even the loud noises of the teenagers and the perpetual flow of traffic, physically so close, feel immensely distant and passer-bys appear like shadows traversing the same geographical reality and yet mere fragments of imagination and visual illusion. In a corner of this open space exists a diminutive, extremely handsome structure, built in AD 1527, whose very existence, albeit meager and nearly unknown to outsiders, is radiant with the beautiful secret it holds in its miniscule bosom – this is the mausoleum of Sufi saint Sheikh Yusuf Qattal, a prominent mendicant who amicably resided in the area during the reigns of Sultan Ibrahim Lodi (ruled AD 1517-26) and Badshah Zahiruddin Muhammad “Babur” (ruled AD 1526-30).

A touch of flamboyance

I had returned to my beloved Delhi for a mere fortnight after almost six months in Bangalore and Delhi Instagramers Guild, my photography club, had organized a walk at Khirki Masjid nearby (refer Pixelated Memories - Khirki Masjid) when we spotted the structure – for me, it was symbolic of what I really adore about the city – an epitome of the unequaled architectural, cultural and spiritual heritage that it possesses, a repository of knowledge and visual composition dating back centuries and yet dominating the monotonous landscape, a promise that while the entire cityscape and its surroundings were rapidly mutating (I’m still surprised by how much the city has changed in just 6 months!), it essentially remained the same.

Externally, the vermillion red, square structure is exquisitely detailed with patterns in red sandstone and plasterwork, including “chajja” (eaves) and unbelievably intricate “kangura” patterns (battlement-like ornamentation, here highly stylized). The roof still displays remnants of magnificent blue tile work and is surmounted by a large dome. The twelve pillars that support the structure are spanned by delicate stone lattice screens (“jalis”) sculpted in multiple fine geometric patterns that throw up a kaleidoscope of light and shadows in the interiors where local devotees, of all faiths and religions, leave behind reverential votive offerings of sweets, incense sticks, marigold flowers and bowls of “halwa” (extremely sweetened semi-solid confectionary conceived from clarified butter, sugar and flour) to appease the saint, whom they locally refer to as “Peer Baba” (“Old Dervish”), so he might implore God to grant their wishes (though stories of the mausoleum being eerily haunted also abound!).

Light and shadows

The western wall of the mausoleum, again elaborately sculpted from stone but recently outrageously painted ghastly green-white against the vivaciously flamboyant red of the building, functions in the capacity of a “mihrab” (western wall of a religious/funerary structure that indicates the direction of Mecca and is faced by the faithful while offering Namaz prayers) and bears the Islamic Kalima legend –

“La Allah illah Allah, Muhammad rasool Allah”

(“There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his messenger.”)

The mausoleum is recorded to have been commissioned by Sheikh Alauddin, the grandson of the unparalleled Sufi saint Sheikh Fariduddin Ganjshakar (“Baba Farid”, the spiritual mentor of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, the patron saint of Delhi), and is architecturally regarded as a relatively unpretentious cousin of the magnificent tomb of Imam Zamin located within Qutb Complex in nearby Mehrauli (refer Pixelated Memories - Imam Zamin's Tomb). Besides the mausoleum exist equally modest remains of a congregational chamber and a low rectangular mosque, the latter bestowed with three arched openings and remains of intricate plasterwork adorning the interior surfaces, the unwelcoming exteriors however presently thoroughly drenched with miserable whitewash – the state of monumental conservation-restoration efforts in the country can at best be described as paradoxical, occasionally as regressive – red sandstone plaques affixed near the ground entrance affirm that the structures have been recently restored by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and National Culture Fund (NCF) with financial collaboration from PEC Ltd (a public sector undertaking of the Delhi Government’s Ministry of Commerce and Industry), and yet the mosque has been immediately, retrospectively overtaken by the local population and tragically repainted as a mark of their unbenevolent acquisition of it. Recent restoration work however also involved the removal of centuries of accumulated soil and debris from around the structures and it has been revealed that they originally stood upon a really high plinth which was submerged underground over time and now has been intermittently exposed.

Spot the blues

Throughout its expanse, the open ground surrounding the mausoleum is pockmarked with a smattering of smaller wall mosques and graves of long forgotten personalities who saw their burial in the vicinity of the saint’s sacred sarcophagus as a means of reaching paradise. The only other ruin that can verily be described as comparatively significant is a set of six pillars arranged in a hexagonal pattern and flanking a single tombstone – quite possibly the remains of a “chattri” mausoleum (umbrella-dome surmounted upon simplistic pillars), the dome of which has long since ceased to exist, but the pillars remain to present an uniquely unusual appearance. But the population possesses only as much consideration for these such ruins as the people interred within have need – in the immediate vicinity has come up a majestic, ethereally beautiful five-floor high graffiti mural portraying a physically and sartorially pre-Columbian feminine figure whose weightless heart is prevented from flying off by being bound to a staff! – I couldn’t really understand the symbolism, but the scene is nonetheless gratifying, especially considering that it does momentarily distract one from the heaps of cow dung, garbage and broken automobile parts surrounding it. Oh Delhi!

Blossoming amidst ruins

Location: Khirki Main Road, Khirki Village. Close to Select Citywalk, Saket (Coordinates: 28°32'02.2"N 77°13'08.7"E)
Open: All days, sunrise to sunset
Entrance fees: Nil
Nearest Metro station: Malviya Nagar
Nearest Bus stop: Khirki Village
How to reach: Enter Khirki Village from the narrow uneven lanes projecting immediately opposite Select Citywalk Mall on the Press Enclave Road side. The massive Khirki Masjid (locally referred to as "Qila", refer Pixelated Memories - Khirki Masjid) is visible immediately upon entering the village. The mausoleum is located towards its rear side and can be accessed by following the road running beside it for a few hundred meters.
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 minutes

October 25, 2014

Sultan Garhi, Vasant Kunj, Delhi

“This blessed building was commanded to be erected by the great Sultan, the most exalted emperor, the lord of the necks of the people, the shadow of God in the world, the bestower of safety on the believers, the heir of the kingdom of Sulaiman, the master of the seal in the kingdom of the world, the helper of the chief of the faithful, the sultan of sultans who is specially favored by the Lord of the worlds, Shamshuddin Waddin Abul Muzaffar Iltutmish the sultan, may God perpetuate his rule, as a mausoleum for the king of kings of the east Abul Fath Mahmud, may God forgive him with his indulgence and make him dwell in the center of the paradise, in the year 629.”

– Translation of the inscription carved on the entrance to Sultangarhi

As a child, Shamshuddin Iltutmish was intelligent, handsome, hardworking and displayed signs of understanding wisdom and a gifted intellect that often provoked the jealousy and a misplaced sense of inferiority in the neighborhood kids and even his own brothers. Such was the chagrin his inconsiderate and devious brothers experienced when faced with his piety and fine knowledge that they eventually decided to deprive him of paternal love and the noble upbringing his affluent family could afford and had him sold as one of the many slave boys to a merchant from Bukhara (Uzbekistan). The man, a dealer in slaves and fine merchandise, further sold the boy to Qutbuddin Aibak, the meritorious lieutenant and the foremost of slaves of Muizuddin Muhammad ibn Sam, the Sultan of Afghanistan (also otherwise known as Muhammad Ghuri), who later went on to become the Sultan of Hindustan. Following the death of his master in AD 1210 and the subsequent incompetent rule of his successor Aram Shah, Iltutmish decided to capitalize upon the disgruntled nobility and the disenchanted armed forces and with their aid ascended the enviable throne of Delhi. He who once was an undesired but forever grateful child, now ruled over the massive Indian subcontinent and wielded considerable influence as the “Sultan-i-Azam”, the great emperor; a formidable military commander and an unparalleled administrator, he boasted of fearsome fighting capabilities and a fiercely loyal backing of powerful armies and slaves; yet he remained a tender-hearted father when it came to his children upon whom he doted and lavished immense affection while attempting to fulfill all their demands and wishes as best as he could. Had he been able to foresee the future, he would have been shocked and appalled at how his progeny would butcher each other after his death, but we shall connect the various threads of Delhi’s often horrific and rotten history later in this article.

Sultan-i-Garhi - Seated in a forest

Iltutmish delegated the administration of the eastern territories of the subcontinent to his eldest and favorite son Nasiruddin Mahmud, entitled him “Malik-us-Sharq” (“Lord of the East”) and appointed him the Governor of the fertile and affluent land of Bengal (Lakhnauti). He always knew that among all his children only his daughter Razia was capable of inheriting and governing the colossal kingdom over which he reigned supreme, but he continued to groom Nasiruddin Mahmud as an efficient administrator-general and his heir-apparent. But it was not meant to be – following ill health brought about as a result of Bengal’s climate, Nasiruddin passed away in the year 1229, leaving behind him a distraught father, grieving siblings and mournful subjects. Considering himself to be a sinner and an inconsiderate creation of God, he decreed that his body should be thrown down in a dark underground cave and not subjected to a royal funeral and burial in magnificent mausoleum. The inconsolable Sultan did bury him in a cave, but this cave was especially custom-built above the ground for the purpose – thus came into existence Sultan-i-Garhi, “Emperor of the Caves”, an octagonal crypt enclosed within a miniature square fortress with massive walls and gigantic bastions (“burj”) that lend it an undeniably masculine, militaristic appearance. One of the least known major monuments in Delhi, the mausoleum, built in AD 1231-32, has the fantastic reputation of being the oldest existential monumental tomb in the city (and in the entire country since the only earlier royal mausoleum of the subcontinent – Qutbuddin Aibak’s tomb in Lahore – is in Pakistan) and it is so different from the later tombs and religious shrines that it superbly succeeds too in living visually the role of grand old monument. Seated, unarguably with an indisputable sense of conviction and steadfastness, upon a raised plinth (3 meters high) in the thoroughly vegetated southern ridge forests where thorny bushes and stunted trees compete for space with blasted rocks and infertile outcrops, the 800-year old tomb is enclosed by thick, high walls and built almost entirely out of golden-brown Delhi quartzite stone.

Up on the plinth and inside the enclosure - The octagonal crypt and the pyramid-surmounted mosque

The characteristic unyielding nature of the quartzite renders it highly unsuitable for sculptural and inscriptional purposes, thereby necessitating the use of an alternate construction material in combination with the former – in this case, the requirement is fulfilled most notably by white marble highlights which has been utilized in constructing the massive projecting entrance of the mausoleum as well as the interiors. In fact, after one does overcome the initial gasps of shock and awe at witnessing the inimitable majestic fortress-tomb rise from the ground in the middle of the unrelenting forest, it is the splendid beauty of the gigantic rectangular entrance, neatly carved into strips of straight lines ultimately culminating into graceful strips of calligraphy that renders visitors speechless. In an instance of unbelievable irony, shared sacred culture and peaceful cohabitation, the local population, both Hindu and Muslim, over the ages began considering Nasiruddin Mahmud a saint and venerate him despite his everlasting conviction of his status as an eternal sinner – the telltale signs of people visiting the tomb complex and offering prayers begin right at the entrance (they are observable in the ridge forest too in the form of rusted and poorly painted signboards indicating the direction to “Peer Baba” (“Revered Sufi saint”), as Nasiruddin is now reverentially referred to as) – climb up the high staircase and either side, near the bottom, the calligraphy characters have turned black as a consequence of regular lighting of oil lamps and incense. Continuing since decades, in a tradition unaffected by any political or religious attempts at introducing chasms between members of different religions and belief systems, and as a sign of heartwarming coexistence between these people of varying faiths and their mutual admiration and acceptance of each other, the mausoleum is especially visited by reverential locals in large numbers every Thursday when prayers are allowed and free food (“langar”) is distributed to everyone irrespective of any differences of faith, creed or gender. Newly-wed brides from the surrounding villages are also brought to the mausoleum by their relatives to seek blessings of marital happiness from the saint. The locals also regularly clean and take care of the shrine, without in any way making any modifications to the original structure – and this, the involvement of the locals, in my opinion, is possibly the best possible manner in which a monument can be conserved for future generations compared to either totally blocking the locals out or giving them such a free hand that they encroach upon the monument and its associated structures.

Stunning! - Details of the inscription carved into the entrance frame

The interiors are exceedingly straightforward – sheltered colonnades, composed of unadorned, simplistic rectangular pillars plundered from Hindu temples destroyed by Emperor Iltutmish, exist along the eastern (entrance) and western sides of the square enclosure, while the other two sides have arched windows built in the walls and looking down upon the vast spread of dense green forest and ancient sets of ruins surrounding the mausoleum (more on that later). Windows also pierce the eastern and western sides, but here the more dominant visual factor is the white marble entrance and the serene mihrab (western wall of a funerary zone/mosque indicating the direction of Mecca, to be faced by Muslims while offering prayers) composed of the same material – interestingly, if one observes carefully, the windows are arched only visually, but not architecturally – the unique corbelled arch technique has been employed here where stone blocks forming a wall are merely carved to resemble curved arches – the style originated immediately following the invasion of the Indian subcontinent by Turkish Muslim armies and the incessant insistence of the new commissioners of buildings and tombs for them to possess arched entrances and openings, a concept alien to the incorrigible native Hindu artists and sculptors who were only capable of constructing trabeates (where stone ledges of gradually increasing sizes are placed atop each other to span space). The splendid mosque/mihrab, surmounted by an enormous pyramidal roof that boasts of an intricate circular floral sculpture along its spellbinding interior side, is a bewitching artistic entity – the white marble has been dexterously and immensely patiently sculpted into detailed bands of floral and geometric motifs and Quranic calligraphy inscriptions. The fluted pillars, supporting the immensely heavy roof on equally heavy brackets, are constructed out of equally flawless white marble for use around the mihrab, but are composed of the same luster less quartzite in the rest of the colonnaded section. Immediately next to the mihrab’s wall is a shallow concave depression hollowed in the marble floor where devotes leave sugar balls, marigold flowers and incense sticks as a mark of faith towards the sanctity of Nasiruddin Mahmud and his boon-bestowing capabilities, but the sugar balls especially attract an enormous number of big ants and flies, the result being the entire floor area is crawling with these creepy, large insects!

Exquisitely detailed - The tomb's associated funerary mosque

The corner bastions and the towering pyramidal roof rise way above the canopy of the surrounding forest and can be seen even afar from the Mehrauli- Mahipalpur road that runs on considerably higher ground skirting the forest territory. Quell the excitement to explore the octagonal crypt just a few minutes more and head to the prominent corner bastions gracing the fortress-tomb – these too possess rather ordinary, but simplistically beautiful, carved floral medallions along the undersurface of their shallow conical domes – the distinctive domes themselves are raised from corbelled stonework and are no insurmountable feats of architectural excellence, but the view from the arched windows in these corner towers is scarily fascinating – one is so high above the ground that it is spellbindingly thrilling and shuddering at the exact same moment!

At last, one heads to the crypt, raised further almost a meter above the ground (that is, the 3 meter high plinth level) in the form of an octagon faced with white marble and possessing stairs along one side leading upstairs and along another heading downstairs – part of the octagon seems to have been constructed from the remains of desecrated Hindu/Jain temples and the same is observable from the lengthy spans of exquisitely sculpted stone fragments that compose the top edges of the octagon just inside of the marble periphery and concentric with it. There isn’t any purpose to step up the stairs to reach the crypt’s roof unless one wishes to observe the numerous pigeons that flock and flutter to feed on the grains and water left for them by the devotees and the guards (yes, the premises are ticketed, though there wasn’t another visitor except me the entire day and am sure the revenues must be disappointing to an extreme degree) – pointing to the stairs that lead nowhere, some historians contend that the tomb was never completed and a dome or roof was meant to cover the octagonal crypt later, but then the obvious question is if the entire fortress-tomb could be raised in two years, why not a small domed chamber in the next few months while the Emperor was still settled in Delhi?

Spookiest tomb I have actually been to in Delhi. This photo of the crypt has been brightened to an extent - it is several shades darker in actuality.

Stepping down into the uncomfortably dark and damp cave chamber is perhaps the scariest dreadful experience I have ever encountered in my short life – supported on extremely plain, unadorned rectangular pillars is the heavy roof of the cave under which rest three graves, each of them draped in a length of light green cloth as is suitable for the sarcophagus of any saint and garlanded with marigold flowers. The largest grave, situated along the western face of the dark cave and ensconced between two of the pillars is said to be that of Nasiruddin Mahmud, though there is neither any sign of ornamentation nor recognition – the faithful have tied numerous letters, deep red threads, pieces of cloth and silver foil, in order to beseech the prince and his family to grant their wishes and fulfill their dreams (“mannat”) upon which they shall return to express their grateful respects and remove the symbolic application (“arzi”), that is the thread/cloth/letter, from the pillars. As I already confessed, I was scared witless on stepping into the deep chamber, more so since I was the only one there and it had suddenly begun to rain and howl furiously, slamming the wooden door of the crypt against the walls – I have no qualms in expressing the fact that I did not step down the last high stair but instead went back upstairs, hoping that the door wouldn’t now slam in the other direction and leave me stranded in a pool of utter darkness and dread! The tomb complex is considered haunted and very few venture here after dark – legend goes that a saint meditating here was burned alive and his ashes scattered around much before the construction of the mausoleum (though it isn’t remembered why this violent and horrifying act was perpetrated), the saint is often spotted at night as a glowing apparition flitting between the trees and traversing the tomb, especially in and around the crypt. Spooky!

My heart thumping through my chest I stepped out of the crypt and spent a considerable few moments regaining my composure before finally deciding that a sojourn up the staircase leading to the roof of the entrance is regrettably necessary if I wish to click the standard photograph that every visitor to the mausoleum clicks – the one depicting the octagonal chamber with the colonnaded pavilion and the pyramidal roof of the mihrab in the background. Here it is –

A view from upstairs. Notice the ridge forest stretch far in the background.

An extremely jovial dog, a resident of the mausoleum, ran upstairs on spotting me there and decided that he was in the mood for a brush and a jog – it was extraordinarily hard to make him run back even after playing and patting for over twenty minutes, but probably I shouldn’t have since the guard’s companions forcefully chased him out of the tomb complex and into the forest when he ventured to sit close to them. Sad.

Adjacent to the mausoleum and towards its left is a single pavilion tomb – a rather elongated, egg-like dome surmounted on pillars – but there is no grave underneath. The dome rises from an octagonal drum (base) adorned with a row of tall kanguras (leaf motif battlement-like ornamentation) and there exist sixteen pillars in total (three to each of the eight sides) arranged in an alternating fashion such that eight are carved out of quartzite slabs and the other eight are built from dressed rubble; just below the roof along some of the sides, the tomb also features remains of wide projecting, slanting eaves (“chajja”). The unique dome, so unlike the ones that surmount the corner bastions of the mausoleum, is said to have been a replacement ordered by the architect-emperor Feroz Shah Tughlaq (ruled AD 1351-88) against the original, damaged one (it is contended that the marble mihrab inside the mausoleum is also a handiwork of the formidably skilled artists and sculptors employed by Feroz, but the design patterns and inscriptions resemble those at the entrance to such an extent that they appear almost identical). Though only one exists now, there were originally two identical pavilion tombs – the first built in AD 1236 commemorated Ruknuddin Firuz Shah (ruled AD 1236) while the second raised in AD 1242 housed the remains of Muizuddin Bahram Shah (ruled AD 1240-42), the other brothers of Nasiruddin Mahmud. Their father considered them incapable of executing governmental decisions or conceiving public works and symbolic actions, therefore disregarded them when it came to governance and administration and instead decided to appoint his magnanimous daughter Razia as his successor. But soon following Iltutmish’s death (he is buried in the Qutb complex, refer Pixelated Memories - Iltutmish's Tomb), Ruknuddin, then the Governor of Badaun (Uttar Pradesh) and Lahore (Pakistan), conspired with the conniving nobility to deny Razia her claim and ascended the throne of Delhi, but as Iltutmish had projected, he proved to be a worthless ruler who spent most of his time in the company of buffoons and fiddlers and in satisfying his sexual urges. The governance was left to his ambitious mother Shah Turkan who decided to punish all the nobles and Governors who had offended her when she was just a slave handmaid – she had many of them killed, others rose in rebellion against her authority and refused to acknowledge Ruknuddin’s ascension to the throne – the final thread snapped when she had Iltutmish’s younger son Qutbuddin killed and the conspiracy to murder Razia too leaked out. The rebellious, disgruntled nobles arrested her and Ruknuddin and had them both murdered in prison. Ruknuddin was the Emperor of India for six months, seven days. It was then that, in a decision that is considered extraordinarily progressive for the age in which it was agreed upon, the Turkish nobility and armed forces accepted the ascension of Razia Sultan, Ruknuddin and Nasiruddin’s sister and the most efficient child of Sultan Shamshuddin Iltutmish, to the throne of Delhi. I have already recounted Razia’s brief reign and life here – Pixelated Memories - Razia Sultan's Grave. It is a pity that while her brothers got such magnificent mausoleums, she was constricted to remain in eternal sleep in an unmarked, unadorned sarcophagus besides the other sister Shazia. Bahram Shah, Razia’s third brother and her murderer, became Sultan after her execution but remained sovereign only in name while the real powers were appropriated by the nobility, especially the Naib-i-Mamlikat (“Commissioner”) Ikhtiyaruddin Acitigin and Wazir (“Prime Minister”) Muhazabuddin. When he began to consolidate his powers and had some of the more powerful officials executed on the pretext of ignorance and non-execution of his orders, the other nobles came together and had him murdered too. Ruknuddin’s son, Alauddin Masud Shah (ruled AD 1242-46) was placed on the throne afterwards to act the symbolic pretense of there being a sovereign.

Buffaloes for company! Who'd have thought a Sultan is buried here?!

Scattered around the mausoleum in very close vicinity to it are numerous other ruins too, most prominently residential quarters but also Tughlaq-era (AD 1320-1414) mosques. There is a small mosque immediately opposite the entrance too, just across the wide open space that separates the tomb from the forest facing it; another set of residential ruins is located further away from the tomb along the unpaved pathway leading to it from the Mehrauli-Mahipalpur road, sadly though these ruins are totally enclosed by means of walls and pointed wires in order to keep vandals/encroachments from accessing them. The other set of residential quarters, situated immediately besides the tomb and spread over a vast area but entirely enveloped by vegetation, are fascinating in terms of their historic antiquity as well as the confusing incomprehension they impart to the impartial rigidity otherwise accorded to the entire area by the militaristic mausoleum. The individualized residential units seem to indicate that several nuclear families occupied these; in certain places there are stairs too leading to upstairs apartments, these however have ceased to exist and any signs of there remains or scattered rubble have been totally obliterated by nature as if they did not even exist. Vibrantly-colored yellow, green and black butterflies flitter around while Wren’s warblers jump querulously from branch to branch even though Red-vented Bulbuls refuse to leave the secrecy of the undergrowth and only confirm their presence by intermittent chirps and quick flights in and out. Stepping through thorny bushes and interminable dense undergrowth that proves unbelievably non-negotiable at times, one has to explore the structures and their ordinary features – I was trying hard to find a pillar that bears a Sanskrit inscription commemorating the digging of a well on the occasion of a wedding in AD 1361, but could not locate it in the utterly chaotic ruins and vegetation.

Faith - Letters and threads tied by devotees beseeching the saint to grant their wishes

Behind the mausoleum and past the pavilion tomb is a immensely gigantic well – the largest I have ever seen at 7 meters diameter – dated to Tughlaq-era, the well is considered amongst the oldest in Delhi but now remains shrouded by convoluted vines threading their way in and out. Coming up near it are modern structures – a grave on a rubble platform has been recently raised to more enlarged proportions and covered with white tiles, cement pillars have already been built on each corner of the platform and are being heightened even further, possibly with the purpose of erecting a roof over the central grave and the less distinguished ones near it – am not sure what the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) people and the guard are doing, but the constructions are in complete disregard of the Monuments Act 1958 which prohibits any construction in a 300 meter radius around a monument or heritage structure. The constructions might even be a euphemism for land encroachment in the form of a religious structure and need to be restricted with an immediate effect – let’s hope the ASI takes adequate and befitting action, though they have so far failed to even acknowledge my mail (accompanied by photographs) in this regard. The tomb otherwise has been superbly maintained by the authorities, very clean and unharmed by vandals and graffiti, and I suppose they can’t either be faulted for the shrubbery overtaking the settlement ruins because it will continue to grow and turn into the thick undergrowth it was when I visited soon after every time they clip it.

This brings us to an end in the sojourn connecting the threads of essentially some of the most important and renowned Emperors and Empresses of Slave Dynasty of Delhi – another instance where numerous far flung and often relatively little known and forgotten monuments are connected to each other through strands of history and filial relationships. One has only to open one’s eyes and see all these dots connect to each other and form a vast pattern that is Delhi’s amazingly fascinating history in itself, and then even the ghastly wars and bloodthirsty massacres seem to fall in place with generous Emperors and inconsiderate military commanders. This is Delhi, the city of cities, my beloved.

Panoramic view depicting the crypt, mosque (left) and the entrance colonnade (right)

Location: Southern Ridge forest, opposite Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8 and Ryan International School, just off the Mehrauli-Mahipalpur road

Nearest Metro station: Chattarpur

Nearest Bus stop: Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8
How to reach: Buses are available from different parts of the city for Vasant Kunj and Chattarpur. If coming by metro, take a bus from the metro station to Vasant Kunj Pocket C-8 – the branching unpaved pathway leading to the ridge forest and mausoleum (rusted signboards indicate the directions to “Peer Baba”) is about a hundred meters or so prior to the bus stop on the road from Chattarpur. If unsure, ask locals for directions to “Peer Baba ki Mazaar” or “Rangpur-Malikpur pahari” (Hill ridges of Rangpur-Malikpur) since that’s how the locals identify the complex.
Entrance fees: Citizens of India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Thailand, Myanmar, Maldives and Afghanistan: Rs. 5/person; others: Rs 100/person. Free entry to children up to the age of 15 years.

Photography/Video charges: Nil

Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr

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