Chaumukh Darwaza, Mehrauli Archaeological Park, Delhi

In an isolated corner of Mehrauli Archaeological Park, forgotten by the residents of the ancient city of cities that is Delhi, ignored by archaeological-conservation authorities and tourists alike, reclaimed by vegetation and foliage and veiled by a blanket of dense trees and brilliant sunshine, come face-to-face remnants of several centuries of human existence that culminated into a highly advanced yet culturally sublime civilization whose roots stretch back to several eons in history. Standing testimony to the residence of skilled builder-craftsmen and exceptionally talented artists in this part of the world, these monuments, that have long since passed from the collective memory of those who still inhabit the surrounding country, represent a fusion of several architectural and artistic cultures, a coming together of traditions that had made journeys worth several thousand miles and an equal number of years in time, a flowering of new forms of art and construction from the stalks of existing knowledge and traditional practices. Of all the structures in the vast open plain here, the most frequently overlooked and seldom written about is probably the oldest, and yet it doesn’t play the part of the elderly. In the shadow of the renowned Qutb Minar and Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque, respectively the oldest Islamic structures in the magnificent city and amongst the oldest in the country, enclosed by a curtain of trees and consigned to a sorry existence by layers upon layers of rotting, stench-emitting garbage that seem to grow exponentially, the Chaumukh Darwaza (“four-faced gateway”) happens to be the earliest construction in the region – one of the few surviving gateways of the majestic Lal Kot, the erstwhile gigantic “red fortress” of the Tomar and Chauhan Hindu Rajputs (AD 736-1192) who reigned over immense territories stretching all the way from modern Rajasthan and Haryana to the frontiers of Punjab. Of the thirteen gateways of Lal Kot, Chaumukh Darwaza happens to be the most easily accessible and yet it is rare for a tourist to venture in and explore this section of Mehrauli Archaeological Park despite its proximity to the handsome tomb of Quli Khan (refer Pixelated Memories - Quli Khan's Tomb) – it might have something to do with the huge number of monuments, in different stages of excavation, that are being restored and made visually palatable throughout the massive archaeological park and especially enroute to the gateway, or with the notion that after numerous exquisitely adorned and intricately carved tombs and mosques, a simplistic rubble masonry wall running division between modern residential quarters and medieval heritage structures holds little artistic and architectural value – and yet, it is this long stretch of thick curtain wall, intermittently interspersed with bastions and slight turns, that once demarcated the ancient Hindu citadel from the surrounding countryside.

Delhi's original gateway!

The defensive gateway doesn’t appear eight centuries old, it has been repaired time and again by the numerous dynasties that reigned over the country with Delhi as their seat of strength – the immensely thick sloping walls and the squat, low appearance, made more prominent by the thick base, conveys unparalleled strength and obstinate steadfastness, and is reminiscent of the architecturally-rich Tughlaq-era (AD 1325-1414) construction which was known for its lack of ornamentation and emphasis on function over form. The gateway is said to be one of the principle entrances to the city – it isn’t hard to drift into a world of imagination and fantasy and visualize it as being flanked by low makeshift bazaars composed of tents and small wooden pedestals where traders and merchants stock fruits, vegetables, flour and spices, along the paved tracks are brought bundles of cloth and stocks of firewood by means of horse and bullock carts and a steady stream of people – merchants, travelers, pilgrims, soldiers and criminals – traverse in and out all the time while sentries posted on either side inspect people and their wares in the midst of continuous hum of the chatter of people, jovial cries of children, barks of domesticated dogs, and shouts and music of conjurers, snake charmers and acrobats.

One of the bastions along this stretch of the wall; the gateway peeps from behind the vegetation in the background. The corners have fallen apart where the wall makes extreme turns and one can cross to the residential colony opposite Quli Khan's tomb from there. 

Alas, today heaps of garbage and construction debris being dumped right upto the raised, paved pathway leading to the gateway turn a hopeful visit into a futile excursion since the way to the gateway is blocked and one has to traverse through a flood of food packets, polythene and vegetable waste beside glass shreds and piles of stone and cement, in the company of groaning dump trucks and waste-filled trolley tractors – one begins to wonder if this is actually the backyard of the Qutb Complex, a World Heritage Site, and the magnificently restored monuments stand just around the corner. Oh Delhi, what have you done!

Location: Near Quli Khan's tomb, Mehrauli Archaeological Park (Coordinates: 28°31'24.6"N 77°11'14.8"E)
How to reach: One can walk from Quli Khan's tomb (red sandstone markers within the park indicate the way to the tomb); alternately one can access the gateway from Qutb complex.
Open: Sunrise to sunset
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 min
Relevant Links - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Quli Khan's Tomb
2. Pixelated Memories - Qutb Complex
3. Pixelated Memories - Qutb Minar

Suggested reading - 

1. Thehindu.com - Article "Monument stripped of old stones" (dated Sep 08, 2003) by Mandira Nayar

Tohfewala Gumbad, Deer Park, New Delhi

Veiled by an envelope of thick vegetation and hidden from onlookers by a curtain of trees that conspire to deepen its charm by adding layers of canopy around it, the Tohfewala Gumbad in Delhi’s verdant Deer Park is on a deeper level also obfuscated by a veil of mysteries and comes as a surprise even to the hardiest of Delhi’s architecture enthusiasts, even the ones on a lookout for it. It is not uncommon to come across tombs and heritage buildings in the most unlikeliest of places in Delhi – cramped between high rises, semi absorbed into buildings and urban centers, seated amidst landfills or simply overtaken by foliage – but Tohfewala Gumbad, deep red in color with a dripping of black along its top as a result of withstanding season after season of rainfall, dew and harsh summer, peeping from behind the greenery with its simple, stark walls and an architectural design giving proof to its strength and endurance brings a smile on the face of every heritage lover who chances upon it. It isn’t that the tomb is very well maintained, on the contrary it has been allowed to waste as a result of official negligence and obduracy with its walls displaying signs of decay and the platform on which it and several other graves rest crumbling slowly. Nor is the tomb an artistic delight, again on the contrary, the walls are simple, plain with not an iota of ornamentation within or without the tomb. The feeling is simply indescribable – after traversing the thickly vegetated park and moving to-and-fro along the curving and looping pathways looking for these medieval structures, coming across this simplistic tomb in the midst of all the trees and shrubbery is like meeting an old friend unexpectedly! 

Hide-&-seek

Dating back to Tughlaq era (AD 1320-98), the modest tomb reflects all the features that the Tughlaq structures displayed – lack of ornamentation, walls sloping slightly to the outside, use of trabeated entranceways (stone beams of gradually increasing size kept on top of each other to fill space and form a rudimentary arch) despite there being available the architectural skills to build proper arches, kanguras (adornment resembling militaristic battlements) on the roof as well as the octagonal base of dome and an exterior appearance meant to convey massive strength. It is no wonder that the tomb survived eons even though many others that came later disappeared in the face of natural and elemental fury. Apart from the high plinth on which the entire structure and the auxiliary graves rest, the tomb proper also sits on a low plinth of its own. 

Historians point out that Tughlaqs (Qaraunah Turks born of Turkish fathers and Hindu mothers) possessed Turkish strength and Hindu modesty. So do their buildings apparently.

Like the exteriors, the interiors too are exceedingly simple – there is no ornamentation and the walls were once only covered with a layer of plaster which has mostly peeled off since; the monotony is broken by the thick arches that exist above each of the four entrances and the squinches along the corners that help support the load of the heavy dome. Four small square holes are set like a plus sign above each entrance, more for the sake of adding character than for providing ventilation. Interestingly, the tomb is pierced by an entrance along each of its face and the western wall isn’t filled up like in most contemporary structures to act as mihrab (wall indicating direction of Mecca that is faced by Muslims while offering prayers). The four graves within are surprisingly well preserved, each in perfect health and retaining the original designs and features – each of the occupant is male, as identified by the wedge-shaped protrusion atop each grave, however the identity of those buried here is unknown. An argument about the state of the graves that are crumbling outside the tomb can be made, but then the authorities already have their hands full and cannot perhaps make efforts for another structure (a theme recurrent in the past few posts too!) that is otherwise too at the mercy of vandals as so glaringly noticed by the messages left by them in paint on the interior walls of the tomb. Welcome to Delhi, a city so full of culture and heritage that it decided to forget and ignore parts of the same when it couldn’t cope up. Sadly though, there aren’t many who will cry at the loss of these unknown, unsung structures.

Safeguarded by a shy protector

Another structure, known as Thanewala Gumbad, in Shahpur Jat locality nearby is often confused to be Tohfewala Gumbad as a result of a mistake o the part of archaeological authorities. For details of the same, refer Pixelated Memories - Thanewala Gumbad.

Location: Deer Park
Nearest Metro Station: Hauz Khas
How to reach: One can walk from the metro station; availing a autorickshaw is advisable since the distance between the two is roughly 2 kilometers.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 min
Relevant Links -

1. Pixelated Memories - Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad, Deer Park
2. Pixelated Memories - Kali Gumti, Deer Park
3. Pixelated Memories - Thanewala Gumbad

Dargah Dhaula Peer, Saket, Delhi

"O son of Adam, you will die alone and enter the tomb alone and be resurrected alone, and it is with you alone that the reckoning will be made! Be with this world as if you had never been here, and with the Otherworld as if you would never leave it."

– Hasan al-Basri, 7th-century Persian preacher-theologian

Lying curled up in bed, researching the annals of medieval Delhi’s history, smoke curling around in wisps at the end of the cigarette whose grey-speckled ash tail is already dangling too long, one cannot occasionally help but reflect upon repetitively about how many of the city’s existential myths and documented architectural and cultural heritage trace in one form or another their origins to the legendary 14th-century feud that assumed gigantic proportions between the benevolent mystical Chishti Sufi saint Hazrat Nizamuddin and the megalomaniac ruthless Sultan Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq (reign AD 1320-25). It is of course well documented that Ghiyasuddin’s son Muhammad Juna Khan (reign AD 1325-51) and nephew Feroz Shah (reign AD 1351-88) revered the dervish saint and had commissioned numerous structural and artistic additions to the latter’s mausoleum complex (refer Pixelated Memories - Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah). It has also been repeatedly conjectured that the conspiratorial and ambitious Muhammad Tughlaq might have himself orchestrated, under influence of the wordsmith saint, the accident whereby a canopy pavilion collapsed upon his father and younger brother Mahmud Khan and claimed both their lives.

Desolation! - Dargah Hazrat Dhaula Peer

But one often wonders what about the other members of the Tughlaq clan and the extended Qaraunah Turk brotherhood – what did they think about this all-engulfing clash between religion and regime? What sides did they choose and why? Apparently, a piece, unarguably miniscule, of this historic jigsaw puzzle is camouflaged in plain sight as a mediocre decrepit structure that not many would bother to grace with a second glance in the very shadow of Sultan Ghiyasuddin’s bewilderingly colossal fortress complex (refer Pixelated Memories - Tughlaqabad) which has since then been accusatorily rendered as being the notorious root cause of the said extraordinary quarrel even though the latter itself is celebrated and even esteemed in religious and contemporaneous literature, folk lore and bardic traditions. Close to Lado Serai Crossing, in the immediate vicinity of some of the most renowned monuments that dot the city’s verdant beautiful landscape, including the majestic Qutb Complex and the lush, architecturally prominent Mehrauli Archaeological complex, exists the small, long forgotten, perennially ignored, sacred mausoleum ("Dargah") that also lends its name to the little known bus stand adjacent – Dhaula Peer.

Pearlesque!

Hazrat Makhdum Sheikh Haidar “Dhaula Peer” happened to be another nephew of Sultan Ghiyasuddin who too, enchanted by Hazrat Nizamuddin’s engaging sermons and insistent emphasis on brotherhood, compassion and religiosity, became his disciple. He quit both the royal palace and the lavish lifestyle and chose instead to earn his livelihood through honest permissible business as prescribed by Islamic jurisprudence (“Sharia”) – for the purpose, he set up a modest soap factory and within no time, through his proficiency and business acumen, rose to become a leading soap merchant-manufacturer who nonetheless continued to frequently attend to the saint and also philanthropically contribute to noble causes. Besides his near-constant immersion in prayers and devotions, his pilgrimages (“Hajj”) to Mecca and the eminent scholarship of Islamic jurisprudence and religious legalities he professed to, he was also renowned for his insistence on always being attired in unblemished white, which earned him the sobriquet “Dhaula Peer” (“White Mystic”). Upon his demise in AD 1357, his grandson Muhammad Kabir commissioned a remarkably simplistic square mausoleum to shelter his mortal remains at the exact same location where he contentedly spent most of his adult life.

The structure, illustrious of Tughlaq no-frill architecture focusing essentially on bare functionality while entirely ignoring ornamentation and artistic superiority, is an elegantly simplistic chamber surmounted by an unusually massive, slightly oblong dome. As in life so in death, the Sufi’s shrine is drenched in spotless white and bears no adornment except the beautifully subdued minimalist highlights in red and blue paint and the huge golden finial that rests, crown-like, upon the large dome.

Simplicity!

The interiors too are equally evocatively unsophisticated and the only decoration, besides the golden-brown copper-gilt chandelier that is suspended over the green-shrouded grave, are the framed posters of Islamic religious calligraphy and numerous photographs of the hallowed shrine of Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti of Ajmer (Rajasthan) who established the Chishti sect of Sufi saints in India.

On either side, the mausoleum is flanked by a functional mosque-madrasa (Islamic seminary) complex and a twelve-pillared, flat-roofed pavilion (“Baradari”) where recline and share news and gossip the aged visitors to the mosque at almost all times of the day. The arid tract of land around the mausoleum, as if attempting to obliterate all signs of its sacredness, is pockmarked with a well, a few decrepit graves and the remains of old cycles and broken furniture. Considering the devout Islamic belief that the mausoleum of a holy man accords sanctity to the entire area surrounding it, especially surprising is the relatively fewer number of graves and the absence of thick covers of vegetation and foliage around the shrine. The shrine itself very nearly disappears from sight when viewed from the perennially crowded arterial Mehrauli-Badarpur road opposite – one cannot help but imagine that the evasive saint-prince still prefers his reclusive isolation.

The associated mosque - A straightforward religious affair

Location: Mehrauli-Badarpur Road, 700 meters from Lado Serai crossing in the direction of Tughlaqabad/Badarpur
Nearest Metro station: Saket (400 meters away)
Nearest Bus stop: Dhaula Peer
Nearest Railway station: Tughlaqabad
How to reach: All the buses plying on MB Road stop at Dhaula Peer. Alternately, walk from Lado Serai crossing/Saket metro station.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 20 min
Other monuments/landmarks located in the immediate vicinity - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Ahinsa Sthal
2. Pixelated Memories - Azim Khan's Tomb
3. Pixelated Memories - Mehrauli Archaeological Park
4. Pixelated Memories - Qutb Complex
5. Pixelated Memories - Tughlaqabad - Adilabad - Nai-ka-Kot Fortress complex

Other prominent Tughlaq-era monuments in Delhi - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Begumpur Masjid
2. Pixelated Memories - Feroz Shah Kotla
3. Pixelated Memories - Hauz Khas Complex
4. Pixelated Memories - Khirki Masjid
5. Pixelated Memories - Satpula

Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin, New Delhi

Tucked in a forested weather-beaten location near Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station is a simplistic structure part-modern and part-medieval. Known as Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin, it can easily be missed by someone not specifically looking for it. Flanked on one side by the rubble-built boundary walls of Humayun’s Tomb complex (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) and on the other two sides by the white-washed walls of Gurudwara Damdama Sahib, the white-green structure fits so snugly into the heritage zone that it is ignored by almost everyone wandering around its precincts. Passing cars do not stop here, nor does anybody get down from local trains at the railway station adjacent to visit this place. I did, but I am, as always, an exception. Except the caretaker and the resident “fakeer” (spiritual mendicant), there was not a single soul to be seen at the large complex in the entire duration that I explored about. Surprisingly, the beautiful dargah (mausoleum) of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, one of India’s foremost Sufi saints and the patron saint of Delhi, a few kilometers away, is the site of revered prayers and pilgrimage for thousands of faithful devotees who throng to it every single day to pray for health, prosperity and fulfillment of wishes, and yet the actual hallowed site where the benevolent saint, bestowed with the honorific “Auliya” (“friend of God”), spent 65 years of his life till his demise has been relegated to an unenviable existence of isolation and ignorance! To confess the truth, even I wasn’t aware of this medieval spiritual gem and wouldn’t have stopped by were it not for the Urdu signboards indicating its presence that I noticed while on my way from the forgotten but bejeweled Nila Gumbad mausoleum to the magnificent Humayun’s Tomb complex. I cannot read Urdu, but the signboards piqued my curiosity and I couldn’t stop venturing within to determine what this verdant, pristine complex was. It was then that I noticed that there were Hindi and English boards too, hidden by foliage and visible only on close inspection.

Entrance to Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin and the Urdu signboards

I had read a lot about the 14th-century Sufi saint Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya and his powers, how his curse brought down rulers, most notably Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq (refer Pixelated Memories - Tughlaqabad Fort for the inimitable tale about Ghiyasuddin's fortified citadel), and how he bestowed prosperity and wellbeing on his followers (Read “Delhi – A Novel” by Khushwant Singh) and his chilla-khanqah being located in the Nizamuddin area. However I had neither the clue about its exact location nor any plans of visiting the spot anytime soon. But now that I had, coincidentally, discovered it, I had to have a close look at its constituents – the graves in the marble-lined, open courtyard out front; the simplistic, L-shaped, green-white structure which, given its architectural features (battered walls, wide eaves (“chajja”) supported on heavy brackets, lack of ornamentation, unadorned rectangular pillars supporting the arches), dates to the early Tughlaq-era when Hazrat Nizamuddin walked the earth; large equally old and crumbling chambers towards the back of the complex accessible from a doorway built in the longer side of the L. The immediate structure, that is the aforementioned shorter side of the L-structure that bears the distinct architectural features easily recognizable as Tughlaq, functions as a mosque – the small covered portion along its western wall acts as the mihrab (a mihrab is a niche in a mosque wall to indicate west, the direction of Mecca. Muslims face this while offering prayers) and alcoves built along its surface are filled with books and framed posters of Hazrat Nizamuddin’s and Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti of Ajmer’s dargahs. Also located towards the side facing the colossal Humayun’s tomb complex is a small graveyard.

The Chilla-Khanqah. The arched doorway on the left leads to Hazrat Nizamuddin's personal chambers.

A “khanqah” is a small monastery used for praying. It was here that Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya lived, meditated, interacted with followers and died. This place was also where he performed the practice of “chilla-kashi” in which a Sufi secludes him/herself from the general population and followers and undergoes extreme penance without water, food or sleep for 40 days continuously while indulging in reverential prayers and commune with the divine. Hence, the name “Chilla-Khanqah Nizamuddin”. Hazrat Nizamuddin’s adoring followers would come here to see their beloved saint, hear him deliver sermons and seek from him blessings of happiness, marital bliss, fertility and childbirth, agricultural beneficence and legal/diplomatic achievements. A community kitchen functioned from the premises where the saint’s affluent devotees would contribute food materials and have it prepared for distribution among the crowds gathered irrespective of any distinction of religion, gender and social and economic status. The white marble-lined veranda leads to the chambers towards the back of the complex where the saint lived and meditated – though the rest of the complex has since been painted and modified through the use of marble, plaster and stone numerous times since, this area is maintained as near to the original state as feasible, and thus the dull, faded paintwork, crumbling structure baring the rubble skeleton of the walls underneath, and the overall ruinous existence of the primary chamber that is now revered as a shrine.

Unbelievable - The Auliya lived and meditated here!

When Hazrat Nizamuddin was sent to Delhi as the “Wali-e-Hind” (“Saint of Hindustan”) by his spiritual master Sheikh Fariduddin Ganjshakar, the area where the chilla-khanqah exists today as well as the adjacent Humayun’s Tomb complex used to be complete wilderness and the nearest settlement was that of village Ghiyaspur several kilometers away (since then renamed as Nizamuddin Basti and more recently as Mirza Ghalib colony). The monastery is said to have been built by an unparalleled devotee Ziauddin Wakeel Mulk (also spelled Vakil or Wakil) who was a contemporary of Hazrat Nizamuddin. Legend is that when Wakeel offered to build a humble monastery for the saint, the latter warned him that the person commissioning it would not live for long. Unperturbed in his devotion to the Auliya, Wakeel went ahead with the project saying that everyone has to die someday. The complex took 30 days to finish and a “mehfil” (celebration) was organized on the first evening following its completion. As prophesied, Wakeel danced ecstatically throughout the night and his pious soul left its mortal body as the music reached its crescendo! He is buried in a solitary grave, perennially covered with green cloth and surrounded by green flags, in the grassy lawn in front of the chilla-khanqah. Green and red flags, symbolic of Sufism, also flutter around the place, especially near the simplistic entrance.

Eternal slumber - The grave of Ziauddin Wakil, the sincere devotee

The saint’s decrepit rooms are stuffed with miscellaneous items like posters, cloth bundles and praying mats while the floor around is lined with small earthen vessels filled regularly by the faithful with grain for birds and milk for the resident cats. The uncharacteristically unkempt wall alcoves, lined with beautifully embroidered green cloth but also clogged with spider webs and blackened by the lightening of oil lamps, contain hardbound photographs of Mecca and Hazrat Nizamuddin’s dargah. Belief is that if one reverentially asks for the fulfillment of a wish while facing these alcoves it does come true! Despite it being a summer afternoon and the sun blazing scorchingly, the interiors maintained an unbelievable coolness brought about by the traditional architectural practices and construction techniques that are sadly no longer of use to the modern air-conditioned city and its closeted inhabitants. Immediately opposite the entrance from which one enters is another doorway, now barred and locked, that leads outside to the other side – during his lifetime, Hazrat Nizamuddin extensively stressed upon the separation of religion and state and boasted that his monastery has two doors and if a Sultan comes in through one he himself quickly leaves from the other. As I roamed about the place silently like a cat (I wanted to be quiet, the caretaker had, after showing me in, fallen asleep in a corner), I noticed that some of these medieval chambers were grilled and locked to prevent visitors from entering. In one of these there was a large transformer but I have no idea what lies in the rest. (Edit: Interestingly, I realized much later that, were they not grilled and barred, Hazrat Nizamuddin’s rooms would have opened directly to the landscaped lawns of Humayun’s Tomb complex that came up here over two hundred years later. The tomb complex’s enclosure walls culminate into a serene pavilion christened as Chilgah pavilion (refer Pixelated Memories - Humayun’s Tomb complex for details and photographs of the same) that overlooks the chilla-khanqah complex and Gurudwara Damdama Sahib adjacent.

The associated graveyard

Wandering around, I reached the small graveyard on the other side of the complex – there couldn’t be more than one score graves, some of which were delightfully decorated with “jaalis” (stone latticework) and vibrant, multi-hued embroidered cloth sheets. Almost all of them were well-kept and several had small plants and grass growing through the shallow hollows built along the upper surface. This practice, of leaving small space for plants to grow from on top of the tile-covered graves, besides being in accordance with Islamic burial specifications that require a grave to be covered by nothing but grass and being regularly wetted by dewdrops (that is, not enclosed by extraordinarily colossal or rich mausoleums) is also visually appealing and spiritually heartwarming. Eco-friendly graves, I call these!

Solemn - Some are remembered and some are not.

The resident mendicant, a very old and very friendly person who believed that Nizamuddin Baba looks after everyone, was sitting in the graveyard. He inquired if I had been to Hazrat Nizamuddin’s room and if I had, if I asked for a “murad” (wish). On hearing that I didn’t ask for anything, he led me back to the room where he made me sit on my knees in front of the alcove and placed his hand on my head while muttering incantations to Allah to grant me success and health. A few seconds later when I turned my head he had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. Leaving a ten rupee note in the alcove, I returned to the graveyard to check if he was there, but he wasn’t. Instead there was another old mendicant, sitting atop a solitary grave and having his lunch – he happily offered to share it with me, even though it was apparent that he didn’t even have enough to sustain himself. That’s why I find Sufi dervishes so endearing, they are always genuinely sweet and compassionate and willing to share what they possess. It is revolting to think that the universal syncretism, musical spiritual congregations and methods of worship and devotion, such as those involving the benevolence of deceased legendary saints and mighty djinns to intercede to Allah on behalf of mortal humans, practiced by Hindus and Muslims alike at community shrines such as dargahs that are open to every person irrespective of any distinction of religion, gender, socio-economic status or belief have come under criticism and fierce, intolerant hostility from orthodox organizations such as the Tablighi Jamaat that has opened its headquarters immediately at the footstep of the route leading to the Auliya’s dargah and opposes visiting both the dargah and the chilla-khanqah on the grounds of it being against the tenets of Islam.

Having finished with the photography and following a thorough recce of the foliage-veiled complex, I moved ahead towards the next destination with the prayer incantation of the fakeer still resounding in my head. The serenity and quiet of the place is touching and invigorating at the same time, soothing both mind and body. It felt amazing to just be cut-off from the world and be in a place, even for a short while, that is secluded from all the noise, commotion and worries of life and is also luxuriously surrounded by a diminutive forest with multi-hued butterflies and pretty peacocks for company . And then there is the sacred presence of the boon-bestowing Hazrat Nizamuddin penetrating every stone and cranny of the complex lovingly overlooking every soul who ventures within.

The mendicant who disappeared

Location: Nizamuddin area, hardly 20 minutes walk from Hazrat Nizamuddin railway station (Coordinates: 28°35'42.2"N 77°15'06.9"E)

Open: All days, sunrise to sunset

Nearest Metro station: JLN Stadium

Nearest bus stop: Hazrat Nizamuddin dargah/Humayun's Tomb complex

How to reach: Walk from the railway station. The metro station is situated several kilometers away and one can either take an auto from there or alternately take a bus to Humayun's tomb complex and walk a kilometer and half from there on. The chilla-khanqah lies immediately to the back of Humayun's tomb complex and one can walk along the latter's boundary walls to reach it.
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 30 min
Other monuments located in immediate vicinity - 

1. Pixelated Memories - Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah
2. Pixelated Memories - Humayun's Tomb Complex
3. Pixelated Memories - Nila Gumbad
4. Pixelated Memories - Unknown Mughal Tomb

Agrasen ki Baoli, New Delhi

“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.”

– Mary Howitt, "The Spider and the Fly"

Even though located in the immediate vicinity of the perennially crowded Connaught Place (refer Pixelated Memories - Connaught Place), the commercial and cultural heart of Delhi, the magnificent Agrasen ki Baoli (aka Ugrasen ki Baoli) happened to be a rather difficult find – none of the people, including auto-rickshaw drivers and shopkeepers, traversing the busy streets or manning the glittering shops seemed to know about its forgotten existence, leave alone directions to its enthralling presence, nor did Google maps prove to be of any help either – the last indicated the presence of the beautiful step-well on Hailey Road, off the Consulate General of Malta, but heck! Nobody even knew where the Consulate General was located and Hailey Road is too long a stretch to explore! My persistence only fueled the anger of Divya, Rashmi and Bhavna who had agreed to accompany me to see the majestic Jantar Mantar complex (refer Pixelated Memories - Jantar Mantar) and the baoli, under the misguided assumption that I knew both their locations (I knew neither actually, as they later discovered!) After being shouted upon by the three for over an hour while we navigated near-deserted streets, I eventually succeeded in flagging down an old Sardar ji driving an auto-rickshaw, who agreed to give us a ride till we discovered the evasive Baoli, although, much to our undisguised dismay, despite plying in Connaught Place and adjoining regions for over half a century, he had never even heard of Agrasen or his baoli. Unbelievably, another hour and Rs 90 later, on the verge of despair, our perseverance did finally pay off and we spotted a miniscule sign, painted blood red, indicating the presence of the Baoli within a narrow by-lane – bewildered, one wonders if the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) couldn’t have installed a bigger board? Thankfully, at least the three ladies, impatient as always, were smiling. Phew!!

Agrasen ki Baoli - The camouflaged lover's haunt

On the outside, the baoli, or rather the periphery walls that flank its ethereal existence, appears mediocre – an unkempt, cobweb-shrouded set of small alcoves and chambers, composed from rubble masonry and surrounded by a stone courtyard delineated by sharp steel fences – not one’s picture of a bewitching ruin that holds in its bosom the secret promise of transforming into a lover’s haunt. But wonders of wonders, the interiors are an altogether different world and the massive underground superstructure, so cleverly hidden amongst its surroundings that the millions of occupants of the huge skyscrapers looming in the distant background, to which it compliments strikingly, have not the slightest clue of its existence. The pristine, undisturbed environments and the unparalleled silence and sense of tranquility that the place offers makes one feel suddenly, implausibly transported back to the past when the megalith was constructed and the locals had begun to converge here for social obligations, gossip and as an escape from the sweltering summer heat.

Sadly though, the historical step-well, deemed protected by ASI under the Ancient Monuments and Archeological Sites and Remains Act (1958), lies forgotten, unvisited and ignored. And although there are no historical records to prove when or by whom it was commissioned, in popular imagination it is said to have been originally built over 5000-years ago by the legendary Mahabharata-era king Agrasen (the benevolent father of the evil Lord Kansa of Mathura and therefore the brother of the maternal grandfather of Lord Krishna, the supposedly divine, exemplar cowherd-statesman-diplomat-warrior-charioteer-philosopher) and rebuilt in 14th-century by the Agrawal community which traces its origin to Maharaja Agrasen. The structure does find mention in the 12th-century Sanskrit work “Pasanahacariu”, penned by an Agrawal poet Vibudh Shridhar who resided in Delhi during the reign of the Tomar king Anangpal III (ruled AD 1151-80). The same poet also does give one of the first references regarding the historicity and christening of Delhi in his verses –

“Hariyanaye dese asankhgaam, gaamiyan jani anvarath kaam

Parchakk vihtanu sirisanghtanu, jo surav inna pariganiyan 

Riu ruhiravtanu biulu pavtanu, Dhilli naamen ji bhaniyan”

“In the country of Haryana exist several villages where the people toil hard.

They do not accept domination by others and are experts in shedding their enemies' blood.

Even Indra, the God of Thunder, praises their valor. The capital of this country is Dhilli.”

Ruins of an era long gone - The Tughlaq-era mosque

Architectural historians however contend that the structure was in all possibility constructed, or at least refurbished, during the Tughlaq Dynasty reign (AD 1320-98), which does explain the relatively straightforward, unornamented nature of the structure, true to Tughlaq aesthetic simplicity and emphasis on function rather than form. It might also explain the presence near the step-well’s entrance of the diminutively-proportioned, minimally adorned and nearly collapsed rectangular mosque that possesses besides the unusual curved sloping roof, three arched entrances and medallions inscribed with calligraphy. Over time, hidden from prying eyes and forgotten even by the most thoughtful of minds, the baoli remained stuck in a time eons past in history while the city around it mushroomed, modernized and transformed into the highly metropolitan entity that it is today.

The outstanding, evocative 60 meters X 15 meters rectangular structure, consisting of a single flight of 103 steps that culminate in a (now dry) water tank, is flanked by stone walls that are stark and yet striking. Walkways interrupt the walls at three levels, allowing a visitor to explore the various alcoves and chambers that mark the peripheries and would once have been used as shaded retreats. Presently however, the more hazardous of these rooms, considered structurally unsafe, are secured with iron gates, and of course, one must at all costs avoid the overly territorially possessive pigeons who now claim them as their own private roosts. The domed roof surmounting the water tank on the far side appears thoroughly darkened and nightmarishly appears heaving to and fro – hundreds of bats who come to nest in the baoli converge along the concave surface where they hang upside-down throughout the day before taking off during night. Spooky, to say the least! Especially considering that one literally feels naked and vulnerable to the threat exposed by these feral creatures while walking on the narrow ledges that define the arched openings on the different levels against the colossal water tank.

Framed!

Heading down the stairs, to the innermost recesses of the earth from where the sky, framed by the baoli’s ominously dark walls, appears like a sliver of glorious blue light and where the stink of pigeon feathers and droppings nearly become unbearable, past heaps of rubble walls long collapsed and layers of sand that once might have formed the waterbed, one can step into the dry water tank after squirming around (almost) on all fours and come face-to-face with one of the city’s most intimate secrets – here, standing in the well, looking at the far off brilliant disc of light that is the opening against the sky, one can feel what it must be like to have fallen in a well without actually doing so – claustrophobic in my opinion. The cobweb-layered walls, stuck with rotting, foul-smelling pigeon feathers and the disorienting desolation of the place are reason enough for one to become silent and subdued, but the ghastly figures that the rotten, semi-decomposed pigeon and bat carcasses portray visually do force one to beat a hasty retreat. Thankfully, the splendid visual composition emerging from the upside-down view looking at the handsome arched openings sheltered by the rows of eaves (“chajja”) supported on ornamental sculpted brackets does render the walk down (and back up) the ever-narrowing staircase worthwhile.

Interestingly enough, the remarkable architectural specimen is not without its fair share of myths, superstition and folklore – local legend is that the place, when it used to be filled with groundwater and monsoon showers, was haunted by spirits and entities of the malevolent kind which manifested as ghastly voices and exercised an extreme degree of compulsion upon stressed and depressed minds, mercilessly urging them to drown into the water and raise its level, thereby leading to numerous suicides. It is hard to imagine the place to be anything but a splendid, majestically noteworthy monument in the heart of the city, but then who knows what kind of depression and loneliness creeps up on some folks when they are solo in some such desolate and long forgotten corner. The Government has therefore, by official order, prohibited visitor entry to the monument after sunset.

Colors of Delhi

The baoli has been condemned to a state of perpetual disregard by the ASI and the public in general. Although there is a guard on duty (sitting on a broken plastic chair) during daytime within the premises, no caretaker has been assigned and the place is neither cleaned regularly, nor redeemed of the pigeon feathers and droppings that carpet its staircases and alcoves. The ignorance is perhaps a good thing – the place survives as one of the most beautiful and soothing spots in the entire city, untouched by tourists and unruly crowds. Thankfully, even the lovers who haunt it do not scribble their names on the walls.

Edit (November 2014): I did visit the baoli again – this time on a photowalk with my photography club Delhi Instagramers Guild, whereby we also did cover the Sunday morning Raahgiri event in nearby Connaught Place (CP). I seemed to remember some of the routes despite the passage of several years and thus the place did not seem so far-off nor so isolated, although in all honesty, the Raahgiri event which encompasses the streets to be necessarily free of vehicular traffic and available for pedestrians, cyclists and people for dances, acrobatics, yoga and stunts, did render the outer areas of CP appear isolated and uninhabited, as if one was walking in a movie-like post-apocalyptic/holocaust Delhi. The event itself, lasting every Sunday for the short duration of two hours (7-9 am), is an interesting concept, and apart from numerous pretty ladies walking and jogging about whom the photographers in tow never failed to click, there were stretching classes structured by Reebok, dance and band performances organized in collaboration with Times of India (a partner to the event along with Delhi Police and Municipal Corporation of Delhi), musical sermonizing by the "Hare Krishna, Hare Rama" group (custodians of the nearby ISKCON Temple, refer Pixelated Memories - ISKCON Temple, Delhi), nearly thousands of participants of all age groups walking, jogging, cycling, skating, dancing, flying kites or simply strolling about and lastly, numerous stunt performers and daredevil dancers. Besides several smaller, relatively inconsequential graffiti artworks that dot the streets adjoining Kasturba Marg and Hailey Road, we also did spot the massive, vibrantly colorful, albeit now crumbling graffiti designs portraying demons, nuns and Lord Ganesha, the pot-bellied, elephant-headed Hindu deity of auspiciousness and luck, that have been present opposite the baoli for quite a long time now but one way or the other I kept missing visiting the area. Finally! And I’m impressed I must admit.

The city's newest fad - Raahgiri Sunday

Location: Hailey Road, near Connaught Place (Coordinates: 28°37'33.4"N 77°13'30.0"E)
Nearest Metro station: Rajiv Chowk
Nearest Bus stop: Connaught Place
How to reach: Walk/avail an auto from CP.
Timings: 9 am - 5 pm
Entrance fees: Nil
Photography/Video charges: Nil
Time required for sightseeing: 1 hr
Other places of interest located nearby -

1. Pixelated Memories - Connaught Place
2. Pixelated Memories - Jantar Mantar
3. Pixelated Memories - India Gate
4. Pixelated Memories - National Museum
5. Pixelated Memories -  Parliament House
6. Pixelated Memories - Presidential House

Suggested reading - Archdaily.com - Article "India's Forgotten Stepwells" (dated June 28, 2013) by Victoria Lautman