Photo by Jonathan Youngblood

Inspired by an Idea

It was over five years ago that we were on a day-trip from Chennai with my wife and another couple, Swami and Kavitha. After a scenic boat ride amidst mangroves at Pichavaram (and some really delicious prawn masala cooked right on the spot), we made our way to Chidambaram, famous (except to me at the time) for its 1,000-year old temple.

What we found there was wonderful – a massive, beautifully-carved stone temple complex that was deserted except for a few folks on siesta, some kids and a couple of stray dogs. We had it all to ourselves – a tourist’s dream come true – and yet we were somehow disappointed. Is there any other country in the world that would let a millennium-old structure be neglected in this manner? What’s worse, there were no signs telling us about the place. All we could tell right there was that it’s an old Shiva temple – and frankly even that was because we were Indian and some of us were Tamil.

We were discussing how such structures are packaged and marketed in the West (audio tours, guidebooks, kiosks, dedicated websites, re-enactments… the list goes on!) when I first had the idea to start a business promoting Indian history and heritage.

Over the next few years, things changed for me personally and professionally. I moved out of Chennai, first to work in Singapore, then Philippines and finally to the US. I dabbled in a variety of roles, gaining in experience and confidence and building up a network of friends and colleagues. Along the way we even had a child.

Finally the time came when I figured I had the experience – and, most important, the savings – to be able to finally start the venture I had been dreaming of for five years!

Inspired by Circumstances

My brother’s story is different. Several years younger than me, he had goals that most of us share at the start of our careers – to find a good job and grow in it. Unlike many of his peers, though, he is motivated by work content, learning and intellectual stimulation; not so much by money.

Having worked in a TV news channel for a few months, he quickly realized that, while the initial learning was great, he would probably stagnate after a point. In addition, the economy was doing poorly and layoffs were round the corner. So he took a severance package and joined me doing what he loves most – reading and researching. And in doing so, he now produces what I think is the best research available to a tourist or a layperson in India.

Other Examples

In the course of our work we come across so many entrepreneurs who are inspired by an idea, a vision or a desire to simply do something different from the usual. Take Vijay or Wribhu, who gave up promising corporate careers to start travel and financial services companies respectively. Or Jonty, who moved from the private sector to an NGO and then gave up both to start a tour company. She’s now planning another new venture!

There’s even Kaushal, fresh out of an MBA, starting an organization with little more than passion and some skeletal funding. And Peter and Noella, who found their calling in doing voice-overs. Peter also finds time to promote a Poker tournament!

These are life-changing examples. But you don’t always need to make a career change or become an entrepreneur to follow your inspiration. Why not emulate Vaibhav, who takes on programming projects while he completes his Masters? Or how about Claire, who participates in fund-raising activities while continuing to have a successful banking career? Rajen is a successful management consultant who has written a Hindi movie script. And finally there is Vishal, who has chucked it all up to backpack across India!

Whatever be your inspiration, act on it now – even if you can only spare 15 mins a day for it. It’s time to start, don’t you think?

One of the more pleasing results of the development of South Delhi over the past several decades is the variegated urban fabric produced by adding yet one more layer of building construction to an architectural legacy dating back to the so-called Slave Dynasty c. 1192-1287.

Stroll in almost any direction from your doorstep, and you will soon find yourself face-to-face with a trace of Delhi’s long architectural history in the form of a tomb, mosque, shrine or antique wall. For instance, it is almost impossible to take an evening walk without encountering one or more Lodi Tombs, built c. 1451-1526 on what was then an open and sparsely populated land. The Lodi Tombs are spread over a broad area in South Delhi, but are often encountered in clusters, making it easy to visit two or three at a time.

Lodi Tomb Patterns

Although there are variations, the Lodi Tombs generally follow one of three patterns.

1. Type 1 is a tomb that consists of a dome raised on twelve columns over a square platform. The typical octagonal drum of the dome is of modest height, and the dome is usually surrounded by kangura (crenellations) and a chhajja (projecting eave). Each corner of the square tomb is marked by a chhatri (umbrella dome).
2. Type 2 starts with an octagonal base. Each side of the octagon is marked by triple arches, with buttressing at each corner. The dome is supported on a sixteen-sided drum, giving the illusion of a circular space. Often, chhatris mark the entrances, and the parapet is made up of kangura and guldastas (spires).
3. Type 3 looks much heavier, as each façade of the square tomb is all but solid. The pishtaq (central arch) and other arches decorating the facades are usually blind (that is, filled in with masonry rather than left open to light and air). The dome is typically supported by a sixteen-sided dome, which is itself supported by squinches of various forms.

Tombs at Lodi Gardens

The obvious place to visit tombs of the Lodi is, of course, Lodi Gardens. The Gardens are so-called because they contain the tomb of Sikander Lodi (r. 1489-1517), the second ruler of Lodi Dynasty. Here you can also explore the Bada Gumbad and the Sheesh Gumbad, both built during the reign of Sikander Lodi. Predating, but formally related to the Lodi tombs, is the tomb of Mohammad Shah of the Sayyid Dynasty (1414-1451).

Lodi Tombs in South Delhi

A large number of Lodi tombs are scattered across South Delhi from Hauz Khas (market) west to Vasant Vihar. This group of tombs starts in the east with the twelve-pillared Tomb of Makhdum Sahib, and runs west, roughly following the road west across Aurobindo Marg into Green Park. Poti ka Gumbad, Dadi ka Gumbad, Chhoti Gumti, Sakri Gumti and Biran ka Gumbad are all in easy walking distance of Aurobindo or Green Park markets. Within the forest of Deer Park, you can visit Bagh-i-Alam ka Gumbad, Tuhfewala Gumbad and Kali Gumti.

Other Lodi-Era Tombs

The third notable cluster of tombs is much more widespread, stretching east from Aurobindo Marg. The three sub-groups form a rough triangle, pinned at the corners by South Extension, Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, and Defence Colony. Proximate to the South Extension Main Market you can visit the Kale Khan ka Gumbad (1481), as well as the unique Tomb of Darya Khan Lohani, the Chief Justice during the reign of Bahlol Lodi, and vakil (advocate) under Sikander Lodi. Slightly north of the market stand the Chhote Khan ka Gumbad and the Bade Khan ka Gumbad, as well as the much more modest Bhure Khan ka Gumbad. Defence Colony features the Tomb of Khwajah Sara Basti, a small part of a larger complex that includes a mosque and baoli (tank). Near Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, you can view three anonymous tombs dating from the 14th-16th centuries.

Outside of these three major groups, you can spot Lodi tombs in almost any neighborhood in South Delhi—Humanyunpur, GK-1, Vasant Vihar, etc. Although many of them adhere to the three patterns described above, you will notice interesting variations in the detail, especially if you view them together.

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This is the third in a series of posts about the Lodis by a network of experts on the subject. Read part 1 and part 2.

The scene is set… a large amphitheatre with thousands of spectators in their allotted places waiting with bated breath for the most significant event of the year to commence…. No, this isn’t wishful thinking about the 2010 Commonwealth Games ceremonies, though it is, in some way, a precursor! It’s a spectacle that took place 99 years ago in a large Delhi ‘maidan’, just off Karnal Road, in the year 1911.

As you may have guessed, it was the grand Coronation Durbar of King George V of England where he was crowned the Emperor of India, the first time for an English monarch to be enthroned whilst in India. The vast yet innocuous space of land that today hosts a few statues and a solitary commemorative obelisk, was transformed into a carefully orchestrated theatre where officials gathered in colourful turbans and tunics and where princes of the native states of India paid their obeisance by placing their swords in front of the King’s feet.

Now while all this sounds quite regal and the Durbar was an impressive spectacle of colonial order and discipline, the events that led up to the coronation were far from it. In fact just as the current Commonwealth Games saga has been mired in controversy, so too was the Coronation Durbar. Events like the famines of 1896-97 and 1899-1900 and the partition of Bengal in 1905 had soured public opinion of the British, especially in Calcutta, and the durbar was as much a diversionary tactic for the British as it was a show of power.

The site chosen was the same one used for two previous durbars, in 1877 (proclaiming Queen Victoria as Empress of India) and 1903 (proclamation of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra), but this occasion was quite different. The emperor himself was present, which wasn’t the case in the previous durbars. Further, the announcement itself was a momentous one, with far-reaching consequences for India.

Dressed in all his finery (including a crown studded with 6,170 diamonds!), the king emperor stood on the dais and proclaimed that Delhi would become the imperial capital of India instead of Calcutta! Once again, Delhi was the seat of power in India.

(Note: the Coronation Memorial site is a few kilometers beyond Kingsway camp, just after Nirankari Colony. The obelisk can be seen from afar and the statues of George V and his dignitaries are located in an enclosure. If lost, look out for children playing cricket)

The author of this post interned for a month with Go!Places researching the Sufi movement and associated sites in Delhi

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As I got out of the rickshaw that brought me to the entrance of Nizamuddin Basti in south-east Delhi, I found myself amidst a human flood. It was seven o’ clock on a Friday evening, and the gullies of the basti were teeming with people, many of them on their way to the dargah sharif of the 14^th century saint Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, after whom the area is named. After losing my way a couple of times (as is inevitable, I am convinced, on your first few visits) I was directed to the entrance of the shrine of the famous pir. I found myself a spot on the verandah that surrounds the sanctum of Hazrat Nizamuddin’s tomb, and sat there watching many scenes unfold at once.

At Dargah Hazrat Nizamuddin

Impressions at the Dargah

As the azan was called, men trooped towards the Feruzshahi jamat khana masjid, while women picked up copies of (what I assumed to be) the Quran sharif stacked in the gallery around the pir’s mazar. Many women however, continued rocking back and forth in fervent prayer to the saint, that was uninterrupted by the azan. Some of the young girls sat with their friends, chatting and laughing; other women were tying bangles and written prayers bound with thread to the jali screens of the tomb-shrine; still others were sitting at the door of the sanctum, praying and gazing at the saint’s sarcophagus. A few beggars headed for obvious targets (by which I mean anyone with a camera).

I handed my offerings- garlands of flowers purchased from a stall outside the shrine- to a khadim who placed them upon the saint’s grave, and tied a thread (which reminded me strongly of moli dhaga) to one of the jali screens. Being a woman I was not allowed to enter the sanctum, and had to be content with peering into the colourful room through the gaps in the jali.

Tomb of Hazrat Amir Khusrau

I then made my way to the less crowded tomb of Hazrat Amir Khusrau. Once more, a khadim took my offering of garlands and directed me to the corridors around the grave, which is where women devotees pray. As I sat squinting through the marble screens around the poet-saint’s tomb, I saw a man in the sanctum scoop some of the petals he had placed on the mazar as an offering into his pocket. This is a practice modeled on the pre-Islamic Indic custom of receiving prasad at places of worship. It is based on the belief that the baraka, or divine bliss, of the saint lingers on in the vicinity of his grave. This baraka consecrates all offerings made to the pir, and renders them auspicious for devotees. Another practice (mentioned above) that I recognized as common to both temples and dargahs, is that of tying thread around screens, trees or objects in the sacred premises that lend themselves to the purpose, in hopes that the devotee’s wishes will be fulfilled.

Historical, Yet Contemporary

In Prayer

What struck me most forcibly on my visits to Dargah Hazrat Nizamuddin is how inextricably the shrine is woven into the everyday lives of so many people. Devotees of the pir (many of whom are non-Muslims) come from near and far seeking his intercession in their very worldly troubles- unhappy marriages, looming examinations, financial difficulties, no children.

As I sat watching people praying at the dargah, I couldn’t help but feel that what I had read about Islamic mystical philosophy was in many ways irrelevant to the contemporary reality of the shrine. Certainly the compassion for which pirs were (and are) famous has its intellectual explanation- but it is, perhaps, equally the product of their disposition and charisma, that have been amplified by the hagiographical literature produced by later generations.

It is this compassion and their mythic proximity to God, rather than their familiarity with sophisticated mystical doctrine, for which pirs are famous today. And not only today- the living tradition of worship one witnesses at dargahs is a product of a historical process of profanation of the transcendental.

As early as the twelfth century CE, the mystical content of Sufism was diminishing as cults mushroomed around individual pirs. While many saints continued to be mystically inclined and accepted a few disciples with similar philosophical interests, they increasingly attracted lay believers, who, hearing of their walayat, or sainthood, flocked to them for succor from their worldly grief. [1] In fact, Islamic mysticism has undergone such metamorphoses over the last millennium and more, that it seems simplistic to define ‘Sufism’ as even a semi-coherent phenomenon.

A Web of Social Relations

Shops

Regardless of what tradition of worship the cult around Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya belongs to- and perhaps disaggregating the strands that constitute this tradition is not quite possible- it is certainly closely bound up in the fabric of many lives. Not just devotees though- the khadims, pirzadas (official at the shrine, often descendants of the saint) and many others who live near the shrine are economically dependent on the saint’s legendary baraka, that has made the site a favourite amongst pilgrims.

The shops near the dargah, for example, sell not only offerings of flowers, incense and chaddars, but also the opportunity for zakah, to do charity, one of the five pillars of Islam. (Zakah is perhaps especially important for ardent devotees of Hazrat Nizamuddin, for the saint is believed to have been generous and self-negating in the extreme.) As I walked down to the shrine, shopkeepers called out to me to have the poor fed on my account- a quick way to boost my piety! [2]

Singer

The qawwals too derive their livelihood from working at the shrine. (On my first visit I noted, somewhat cynically, that the ‘best seats’, so to speak, at that evening’s qawwali session- right next to the qawwals- were occupied by foreign tourists.) Though Thursdays are traditionally reserved for sama (literally ‘audition’, though in Sufic terminology, it contains the added meaning of listening with the heart) [3], the qawwals at the dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin perform throughout the week. Male devotees (at least, I didn’t see any women) express their appreciation for the music by placing money at the qawwals’ feet. Many also tip the men who fan devotees as they sit in the courtyard of the shrine complex.

As I walked back to Mathura Road from the dargah I was left with a distinct impression of the fusion of many realms into a mosaic of economy, polity, ritual and intense belief. In his lifetime, Hazrat Nizamuddin is said to have assured his lay disciples that moral living, rather than asceticism, was the key to salvation. Posthumously, he continues to be at the centre of a web of social relations, himself transcendent, and thereby invested with the power to assure his devotees success in their worldly, yet moral, endeavours.

[2] The stalls that line the alleys leading to the dargah were, at one time, manned predominantly by pirzadas- those claiming ancestral links to Hazrat Nizamuddin. According to a study published in the 1970s, many pirzadas were seeking employment beyond the basti, thus leading to an influx of outsiders into the economy of the dargah. I imagine that this process only accelerated with the years. (Patricia Jeffrey, Frogs in a Well: Indian Women and Purdah, Vikas Publishing House, 1979.)

[3] Once more, it is interesting to note the changes wrought by time in the Sufic traditions of worship. While customarily the emphasis of sama was on audition rather than performance, in the age of mass media, qawwali and sufiana kalam have become popular genres of music that have brought the performers to the forefront.  The widespread popularity of sufiana music is exemplified by the remix of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s Dam Mast Qalandar by the British group Massive Attack.

Imposing Mughal buildings dominate Delhi’s landscape, and most travellers, like Delhiwalas, would include the splendid Red Fort and gorgeous Humayun’s Tomb in their sight-seeing checklist. Perhaps history lovers and picnickers make repeat visits to these and myriad pre-Mughal ruins that dot the sprawling metropolis to frolic in lush gardens, dabble in amateur photography and soak in the atmosphere of bygone times.

But who were the Mughals and where did they come from? How did they get to Delhi and emerge as arguably the most glamorous and powerful dynasty in the world by the time Shah Jahan, the most opulent of Mughal Emperors, built the Lal Qila (Red Fort) and a brand new sparkling city, Shahjahanabad (now Old Delhi)?

A King Without a Kingdom!

Babur

A larger story begins with the amazing tale of Zahiruddin Muhammad “Babur”, aptly nicknamed “tiger”, who at age twelve lost his father and found himself ruler of Fergana, a tiny rustic principality, due north of Kashmir, once in ‘Turkestan’, now in present-day Uzbekistan. Born in Andijan, Babur claimed descent from two legendary nomadic warriors – the Tartar Turk, Timur (corrupted to Tamerlane) on his father’s side, and the Mongol, Chingiz (often spelt Genghis) Khan on his mother’s. By age fifteen, Babur had realised his dream of taking Timur’s once imperial capital, Samarkand, just west of Fergana, but also lost it along with Fergana, first to rebel cousins and brothers, in the fashion of the times, and finally to Uzbegs determined to drive Timurids out of Central Asia.

Coveting Hindustan

Babur almost never made it to Delhi. Following years of wandering without home or kingdom, by a sudden act of fate, Babur seized Kabul when its ruler, an uncle (Ulugh Beg, grandson of Timur) died, opening up opportunities for Babur to turn his sights further south. He wrote in his excellent memoirs, the Babur-nama, that ever since he won Kabul in 1504 at age twenty-two, he “coveted Hindustan” – northern India, as a possible refuge and chance at gaining real fame. Twenty years later, on his fifth attempt, supported by disaffected Lodhi governors of Punjab and Sindh who sought his help in ousting the Lodhi Sultan of Delhi, Ibrahim, Babur had some luck. Crossing the Khyber Pass and the Indus River, he marched south to the Yamuna (or Jumna) River, to the hot, dusty plains about fifty miles from Delhi, and there fought the decisive Battle of Panipat.

The Battle of Panipat

In just half a day’s dramatic battle on a sweltering April day in 1526, Babur’s modest army, equipped with superior strategy, cannon and musket, and sheer guts, defeated Ibrahim’s massive imperial forces on the historic battlefield slightly east of Kurukshetra of Mahabharat fame. Ibrahim was slain, and as per rather gruesome custom, his severed head presented as war trophy to Babur, who ordered the unfortunate sultan’s body to be bathed and buried with honour in a brocade shroud at that very spot – in a tomb in modern-day Panipat town. The road to Delhi and Agra now lay wide open for the conqueror.

A New Emperor of India

Babur immediately dispatched his teenage son, Humayun, to take over Agra while he headed to Delhi, where he first “made a circuit of Shaikh Nizamuddin Auliya’s tomb”. Even in our times, Nizamuddin is a much-visited Sufi shrine in the heart of south Delhi, in remembrance of the great ‘expat’ saint who lived in the capital and died there in 1324 at the age of ninety-two. The next day Babur visited Khwaja Qutubuddin’s tomb (near the Qutub, honouring a saint from Ush in Fergana who came to Delhi centuries earlier and died there in 1235), and “visited the tombs and residences of Ghiyasuddin Balban and Alauddin Khilji, his Minar, and the Hauz-shamsi, Hauz-i-khas and the tombs and gardens of Buhlul and Sikandar (Lodhi).  Having done this, we dismounted at the camp, went on a boat, and there araq was drunk.” Two days later, the Friday sermon, or khutba, was read in Delhi’s main mosque in Babur’s name and money distributed to the poor and needy. Babur was proclaimed ruler, and as, in his words, “Dihli is held to be the capital of the whole of Hindustan”, he was its new Padshah Ghazi or Emperor.

St. James' Church

What’s so great about Kashmiri gate besides the conveniently placed metro station, you ask? Well, if you’re ever in the neighbourhod and have time for a saunter, check out Delhi’s oldest church (circa. 1836) and the historically fascinating area which once played host to Delhi’s ‘White Mughals’. The handsome renaissance style church known in local parlance as St. James, forms the piece de résistance of this area and is a testament to the vibrant legacy of its patron, James Skinner.

Vow to Build a Church

Born in 1778 to an East India Company officer and a Rajput princess, Lt. Colonel Skinner grew up in north India’s Islamicate milieu just as the British were establishing their hold over the subcontinent.  “Sikander sahib” as he was fondly called by his men, commanded a body of irregular cavalry initially for the Marathas and later for the British in the early 19^th century. One day whilst leading his corps of ‘yellow boys’ (famous for their yellow tunics), Skinner was caught in a skirmish and seriously wounded in the battlefield. As he lay helpless, Skinner vowed to build a church if he survived.

Scarred in 1857

A victim of the mutiny of 1857, the church was attacked by rebels who took pot shots at the ball and cross that are now housed inside the premises. Also interred within the church compound are Skinner’s close friends, the East India Company Resident Sir Thomas Metcalfe who built two houses in Delhi (one of which was over a  tomb!) and Commissioner William Fraser, described by travellers as mix between a “half asiatic” and “scotch highlander”. Skinner, himself buried inside the church, passed away in 1841 leaving behind a regiment – ‘Skinners Horse’, which still remains a vital part of the Indian army.

Near the church stands the site of the old St. Stephen’s college (now the election commission office), the Delhi Telegraph office, the remnants of the Kashmiri gate and the British magazine.

Exploring the Kashmiri gate area is like walking through a treasure trove of history…all within minutes of that convenient metro station.

(St. James is open daily from 8 am – noon and 2-5 pm)

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References:

H Fawnshawe: Delhi Past and Present (1902), Asian Educational Service, 1993

Victor Jacquemont : Letters from India (1828-1831) India, Tibet, Lahore and Cashmere – 2 Vols, Asian Educational Service, 1993

The Golden Calm : An English Lady’s Life in Moghul Dehlie, Reminiscences by Emily , Lady Clive Bayley, and by her father, Sir Thomas Metcalfe. Ed. M.M Kaye, Webb and Bower, England 1980

The recollections of Skinner of Skinner’s Horse: James Skinner and his ‘Yellow boys’ Irregular Cavalry in the Wars of India Between the British, Mahratta, Rajput, Mogul, Sikh and Pindarree Forces, Lenotaur ltd., 2006