I found Delhi's attraction at Masjid Moth

I first visited Delhi as a boy of nine on a 'Bharat Darshan' trip with my family. It was supposed to be a trip for the kids to see the country’s landmarks, but I was mostly taken aback by the sheer crowd, dirt, dust, noise, loudness and crowds of Delhi. We lived in a mountain village of four hundred back then. I still remember looking down from the 4^th floor balcony of a hotel (called Neelkamal or Kamal Hans or something with a kamal in it) in Chandni Chowk and seeing more people in one sweep of the eye than I had perhaps seen in my lifetime. I could not find anything appealing in the city. Yes, Gandhi's memorial was cool, so were Jantar Mantar and Red Fort and so on but they weren’t Delhi, they were more like things that had been mentioned in school and had seemed unreal or far away. Textbooks in 3D form.

As I went to college and then to business school and then worked in Chennai and abroad, Delhi was the airport I flew from, the bus station I boarded the bus to Himachal from and the second choice railway station. It was my gateway to the world beyond Himachal but it was one I did not look forward to crossing through. Delhities were rude and seldom answered my questions, auto drivers seemed to be out to fleece me. I was a simple mountain boy in a place that was out to get me, trample me. Someone once said, 'Delhi is cut-throat'. That it is and it almost cut my throat so many times. Only masochism or love could have driven me to move to and walk around the city I most dreaded.

The truth is it was a little bit of both, but that is a different story. Over nine months of wandering, I found many things that made Delhi tolerable. But it was only after I paid ten grand last Diwali to fly to Delhi for just two days, that I realized that I, like so many sceptics before me had become a Del-mantic. Sure I was partly there for the friends, but the truth is that something else draws me back to Delhi. I can’t put a finger on what it is. The city hasn’t changed, it is still as dusty, loud, and polluted as ever so it must be me. I have a theory that over all of these centuries, the city never really changed. The loved tortures, subdues, and changes its lovers without ever once moving itself.

On Diwali, over a pontificating session, we discussed how Diwali might have been celebrated a few centuries ago without reaching a conclusion (this was pontificating after all). But the next day I went with Varsha (who writes here and is still wandering around Delhi) to Masjid Moth. This was the first time someone else had taken me wandering around Delhi. I had often seen the signage from a flyover on the Outer Ring Road reading 'DDA Masjid Moth Flats'. Often I had imagined that there must be a Masjid Moth and a couple of times even thought of venturing there.

The first surprise came with the realization that Masjid Moth is not anywhere near those DDA Flats. It is a good 3-4 kms away near Hauz Khas. We got off an auto and, expertly, Varsha led me through a maze of streets. I have often noticed and never mentioned that there are many Old Delhis in Delhi. You can go anywhere in an older neighbourhood and find an old fashioned market where a grocer sells only limited goods, a stationer only stationery, there are a couple of shops for fixing the punctured tyres of bikes, a couple of cheap eateries and a doctor who calls his business a 'dispensary'. Old Delhi just happens to be the biggest such neighbourhood and the most chaotic. But that is beside the point. We were now in the heart of something somewhere in Hauz Khas with chaotic criss-crossing lanes in an old fashioned market place. I could not believe I had missed a site this close to where I took Spanish classes.

After walking a few minutes, we came upon a stone structure to our left. It was ruined and dilapidated. There were a few cars parked next to the walls, which stank slightly of urine. We walked through a small gap, past a wall, turned right and then saw a gate. Stunning. Carved with delicately carved floral patterns and geometric figures, it has to be the most ornately carved gate I have seen in Delhi. Once inside, I was surprised again with the carving in the second picture below.

It is very un-Islamic to have a life form carved in a mosque, infact it is prohibited by the Quran. This is however a case of a mixing Hindu and Islamic architecture: a Hindu arch laid within a Muslim arch. The story of the mosque's origin is also fascinating and can be found at this Wikipedia link.

As we walked in and wandered around the courtyard, the quintessential Delhi ruin quiet caught on and I just sat on a parapet mulling over life. It is amazing how repeatedly, Delhi can throw old buildings your way which really transport you back into time, where the sound of the traffic seems to come from a distant place and age. I was thus lost in a reverie when I was interrupted by a voice. It was the security guard at the mosque talking to Varsha. She was asking him questions about the history, which he did not have concrete answers to. I got up from my seat and walked over to them. He was clearly a recent immigrant from either Eastern UP or Bihar, like most of the security guards in Delhi these days. Slowly, as he got talking, he mentioned his previous job at Humanyun's Tomb. In a soft tone, he said

'There are ghosts there.'

Varsha was almost livid. She does not like nonsense. However, before she could interrupt him, I cut in, 'Really? How do you know?'

'I have seen them. All the guards in Humayun's tomb are scared of going anywhere near the crypt in the night. Sharp at midnight, when everyone is asleep, and the tomb is absolutely silent and dark, the royal procession of Humayun makes it way out clad in royal shining fine silk robes and mounted on beautiful steeds.'

I was already in dream ghost land when Varsha, who could take no more of such nonesense, pulled me away. To this day, I have been imagining how the plot would have developed. Would Humayun's procession cross the road and be joined by a procession of Abdul Rahim Khan-i-Khana and, together, would they meet the spirit of Nizamuddin and seek his blessings? Or would the procession just wander around lamely within the tomb walls? Damn you Varsha!

The guard also sheepishly mentioned something about ghosts in Masjid Moth but I did not get to hear about them either. Instead we sat down under a tree and read a little from a book which describes the mosque. I climbed the top of the gate to see if I could get a good picture (I couldn't) and then we heard the creaking of an opening door. Right opposite us, in the courtyard of a small shanty sharing a wall with the mosque was an old man with a newspaper. The courtyard had a line with laundry hanging on it. Casually, the old man sat down on a chair, appraised his surroundings with a slow movement of the neck, looked towards us and the courtyard of the mosque, and finally faced the mihrab and started reading his paper. It’s only in Delhi that someone can so casually share a wall with history while a visitor from another city stands across the way appreciating the finesse of the fabric hung out to dry, and fantasies of royal phantoms march through the courtyard between them.

I couldn’t capture the word, but I almost understood what pulls me back to Delhi.

The Gate

The Blasphemy

The courtyard

The Mosque and............The Ghost

Qudsiya Bagh

 In my last post about the wanderings on the ridge, I made a brief mention of Qudsiya Bagh and then promptly forgot about it. That was until this Sunday. Browsing the internet for something random, I came across a website of old Indian photos. It had a photograph of the Qudsia Bagh masjid from just after the mutiny (war of independence) of 1857. Taken in 1858 by Dr. John Murray from the Western side, it shows the collapsed or collapsing arches of a bridge on the right and the main building of the mosque, all holed and battered perhaps by the gunfire.

The Qudsiya Masjid in 1858

In some ways, the Qudsia Bagh of today stands in a very similar setting. First of all, it is, amazingly, still a bagh i.e. a garden. It still is an island of silence and serenity right next to the bus station. Unusual for such a setting, there are no amorous couples here. All we came across were the caretaker of the mosque and a couple of old ladies sitting under an old gate. The mosque is still alive, the domes in the exaggerated late Mughal style. The damage to the standing walls has been covered up with plaster but none of the collapsed walls have been rebuilt. The gate has ornate red sandstone carvings and decorations with floral patterns and vines.

Qudsia Bagh is not a place I would recommend a standalone visit to. However, if you are around the bus station with a few minutes to spare, do walk over. It is short, it is sweet and it is stunningly serene and detached. The mosque, the old gate, and one later structure (which looks like a mansion but we could make nothing further of) are the bonuses.

Qudsiya Masjid in July 2011

The gateway

Floral patterns on the arch

Fatehpuri Masjid

Fatehpuri is one of Old Delhi’s many hidden gems. In 1650, Shahjehan decided to let his wife, Fatehpuri Begum (known so because she was from Fatehpur) build a mosque at the far end of Chandni Chowk, a straight shot down Red Fort’s once great canal. Standing at the gate of Fatehpuri Masjid you could see the Red Fort clearly. Today, that view is obscured by Delhi’s ever present haze, haphazard construction, and tangles of electric wires.

Fatehpuri Masjid at sunset

The mosque, a poorer cousin of the grand Jama Masjid is still in operation and actually quite big itself. As you enter from the main gate, on your left you can see recently constructed apartments encroaching onto what used to be the madrasa on the first floor. A yellow wall here, a few red bricks there, some taking up all the space and some just teetering into the mosque. Its as if a web of the surroundings is starting to engulf the mosque, very slowly. Even if new construction takes the originality of the building away, it makes the old mosque a true part of the bustling surroundings. The courtyard has a homey feel. People stroll through the courtyard with nonchalance, as if they were walking in the courtyard of their own homes. Maybe that is what they are actually doing.

The surroundings becoming one.

I visited three times, spending quite a bit of time on each trip. The hospitality of the people in the courtyard struck me every time. Someone offered to take me around, someone else volunteered information about the mosque, and yet another person inquired if I was having a good time and liked the place. Whatever the mosque lacks in size and grandeur compared to Jama Masjid, it more than makes up for in its welcoming atmosphere and hospitality.

Walking to pray

 

Sunehri Masjid

One day last winter, I was walking from Nili Chhatri Mandir towards Chandni Chowk when from amongst the leaves of a large tree, I saw a small bronze dome right next to the road. A small detour to the right, up and down some steps and through a large iron gate, I finally landed at the Sunehri Masjid. It was built in late Mughal period by Qudsiya Begum, mistress of the infamous Muhammad Shah 'Rangila', the Nero of Delhi. They say the three domes were gilted with copper. The copper was stolen, possibly during one of the many foreign sweeps of Delhi. Eventually Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal emperor, had the remaining metal replaced with sandstone.

Today it stands a little away from the Red Fort, very close and yet very far from the road. The inside has 3 arches with reed mats laid below. In one corner are some taps for performing ablutions before the namaz. Once in a while, someone walks in to pray. The noise of traffic outside is drowned out by the sound of a broom scrubbing the floor.

The Fliers

This is on the domes of Moti Masjid in the Bakhtiyar Kaki dargah.

 

Khirki Masjid

Why is it that after going through painful hours of searching for a monument, it always ends up sitting right in front of me the whole time? When I find it, I realize I’ve already walked all around it, never taking that final turn to get me there.It reminds of an old Hindi saying 'Chirag tale andhera', (there is always darkness under a lamp).

One April afternoon, I was looking for directions to Saket Mall on Google Maps. Across the road from the mall, I noticed Khirki Mosque written in large letters. I was intrigued but did not expect much. Being so close to the mall, I figured it would already have been a local attraction if it was anything great. But for a lark, I pulled up the satellite image. Here is what I saw:

In the middle of a lot of cramped housing, there was this big, square structure with a collection of what looked like honeycombs. It was far more interesting than I had expected. I recognized the cupola shaped domes of the Tughlaq period that won me over at Begumpur Mosque. There has always been a strange appeal in their symmetry, monotony and ugliness. They look so bland forming the sides of a square at Begumpur Mosque but here, they looked better. I decided to go there immediately.

That afternoon, with the sun beating down hard, I took an auto over to the Saket Mall. The satellite image had made Khikri Mosque out to be huge, so I didn’t think it would be difficult to find at all. After reaching the mall, I asked someone for directions and with the auto on meter, I was sent into the Hauz Rani village, a collection of narrow alleys surrounded by high four to five storey buildings with no space between them. As you can probably guess, we were soon lost. After a while, I asked again and was told that the entrance was down a side alley. I asked the auto to wait and walked down the street. In two minutes, I was out on the main road and again staring at the Saket Mall. As I walked back, I asked another man, who very authoritatively sent me down a new side alley. This one, after a 10 minute walk, led me right to Max Hospital. Of course I lost my way back. By the time I found it, the auto had already been waiting over 15 minutes. Apologizing to the driver, I asked him to get out of the alleys and back to the main road. Maybe a fresh look from outside would help.

Right next to Saket Mall, I could see two devoutly attired Muslims walking purposefully along the road.

'Where is the Khirki Masjid?'

After silently appraising me and almost staring me down, one of them asked me, 'What will you do there?'

'It is a historic place, I want to have a look.' I said

'We do not know.' He closed the conversation.

Ok, so you do not know where it is but you want to police it. Anyway, I climbed back into the auto and asked another pair of men for directions. They sent me in a direction which was completely counter intuitive but what the hell, maps are so often wrong. Who knows? This time I found myself in front of a 20 year old whitewashed wall enclosing a very recent and fully active mosque. I guess if I was looking to pray this would have been the time.

Again we came back to the main road and asked directions and again we were sent to Hauz Rani. That was all I could take. I abandoned the my goal and instead checked out what I later learned is the Satpula on Press Enclave Road. After two hours and 170 rupees I had come to know exactly where not to find Khirki Masjid. Where to find it had to wait. I had appointments to keep, yes there is a life outside of Delhi's spirit world.

Then a couple of weeks ago, almost three months to the day, I set out with a friend to renew the search for the mosque. I was pretty much without hope. Khiriki and Hauz Rani are urban mazes, to expect to find something there would be silly. Maybe my opinion was coloured by my previous experience. This time though, we approached from the east (instead of west) and let the auto off just in front of the mall. Using an Eicher map for navigation, we entered a narrow alley and after a few steps asked a shopkeeper for directions. Very confidently, he told us to walk back a little, take a right and walk down that alley for about 30 metres. I was sceptical. The path passed through private courtyards. At one point, it almost seemed like we had reached a dead end in the large open courtyard of someone's house. But, after looking around a little, we found an exit to our right. And all of a sudden, like a swift kick to the chest, there it was.

The entry gate with sloping walls and minarets.

In the middle of a cluster of houses stood a huge structure. I was so excited I could have run to the entrance screaming for joy. I managed to hold it in for a fast walk to the entrance. As I looked to my left from the entrance, there it was, the @#$#@#$!!!!, Saket Mall. The mall was all of 30 metres away from where I was and yet the small street which led to the mosque was barely visible.

As we entered from the gateway the stink of bat shit was all pervading. This 14^th century mosque, said to have be one of the seven mosques been built by Khan-i-Jahan Mahbub Tilangani, the Prime Minister of Muhammad and Firoz Tughlaq, is the only covered mosque in India. Except four square courtyards, each of which, judging by the slope and drains, were used for ablutions before prayer, it is covered. A plus shaped walkway lined by huge pillars forms the centre. On the north eastern edge, the roof was caved in. It was from here that I saw the remains of the domes that had originally enticed me to start this journey. Looking from below, the ceiling is plastered with rubble and lime to fill the domes on the inside and it is difficult to imagine the domes that sit atop the roof.

On of the four ablution courtyards

The maze of pillars

Caved in roof at the North Eastern end

 On my second visit I found my way to the roof. In an attempt to get a picture of as many domes as possible in one shot, I used my newly acquired climbing skills (thank you IMF for your crappy practice wall) to climb the southernmost dome. Nothing I tried allowed me to take a picture of the domes as I wanted it. I want a bird's eye view of the mosque but much clearer than the satellite image. Nothing in the surroundings (mostly houses at a distance of anywhere between three to five metres from the mosque walls) were high enough to let me do that.

The top view

Thats the best I could do for the domes

There are 85 domes (or used to be before one of the sides caved in). Or 89 counting the ones on the four minarets. And finally, from atop the difficultly climbed dome, I could see, Guess What? THE SAKET MALL! I wondered , as I often do, if seven centuries from now people with cameras in their hands and wanderlust in their hearts will climb atop the ruined roofs of such malls and wonder at how these ugly monstrosities came to a pass.