A Day at the Ruins

Ya rahey hissar* oosar, ya basey gujjar (May [this place] remain unoccupied, or else the herdsmen may live here).

I will admit I started with doubts. Don’t get me wrong, I love to wander around ruins and love seeing new parts of the city even more. But Shalabh can sometimes be a little over enthusiastic about history. So when he told my friend Johnny that we were going off to a far corner of the world to look at a fort with no ceilings, no complete structures to speak of, surrounded by villages and used as a grazing ground for the local goats, I felt it was my obligation to explain to Johnny that he should keep an open mind and just enjoy the metro/auto adventure until we saw what we were really up against.

The metro ride itself had to be an hour. It was January of 2011 and the Tuqhlaqabad stop (second to last stop on the purple line) still had a film of new station dust. After twenty minutes on a corner, we convinced an auto to take us to the fort. Feeling generous and desperate, we agreed to pay his way there and back so he didn’t have to wait for us to finish to pick up another ride. Bumping along, I wondered if we were leaving the authority of the MCD. Just a bit further and we would be in Faridabad.

Even after we piled out onto Mehrauli Bedarpur Road, and I saw the huge walls of the Tughlaqabad Fort looming above us, I was pretty skeptical. The entrance looked hokey, there were fake stone stairs, an ASI board, polished towers, and a ticket booth.  The warning signs of an uninteresting afternoon.

I could not have been more wrong. Three hours later and I was convinced. There is no better way to appreciate the grand, artistic, spiritual, and destructive history of Delhi than within the walls of Tughlaqabad. Here is a simply recipe for how you might spend the day.

1.    Take twenty minutes when you first enter to sit on a hill and look to the far reaching walls and the desolate inner grounds of the fort below you. Despite missing roofs it is easy to conjure up dreams of history and life pacing streets. A grain grinder looks as if it is waiting for the operator to come back from a long harvest season. Perhaps it’s because the ghosts of this disserted city were abandoned here, disconnected from the growth and destruction of Delhi, undisturbed even now.

Climbing through secret tunnels.

2.   Take a walk with the ghosts. Legend has it that this city is cursed. When Ghiyas-ud-din began building his fort city, the famous Sufi dervish Nizam-ud-din was completing a step well for serving the needs of the local people. Although Ghiyas-ud-din decreed that all craftsmen should be dedicating their time to the fort, many snuck out at night to volunteer on Nizam-ud-din’s well infuriating the ruler who already mistrusted and disliked the spiritual leader. During their struggle Nizam-ud-din proclaimed, Ya rahey hissar, ya basey gujjar (May it [Tughlaqabad] remain unoccupied, or else the herdsmen may live here).

Whether curse or prophesy, Nizam-ud-din's words were remarkably accurate. Tughlaqabad, which took four years to build, was only occupied for six years before a lack of clean water and the ambition of Ghiyas-ud-Din’s son, Muhammad, forced the capital to shift to the new city of Jahanpanah.

3.     Get into the walls. I won’t tell you where it is but somewhere, perhaps a kilometer from the entrance, there is a crawl space in the fort walls that will lead you outside, and leave you standing on the edge of fort and forest in what used to be a mighty water way. Perhaps an escape route, or something less interesting, it is definitely human sized (well, small human sized). If you find it, keep in mind you will be sharing the crawl space with bats and the only option once you have reached the other side, is to turn back around through the tunnel, or scale the fort walls. You don’t need ropes but you may want to bring a friend. We found it perfectly safe, but promise nothing.

Reaching new heights.

4.     Play a game of tag. Ever since visiting this site I have a recurring fantasy of playing laser tag or paintball at the fort. Of course, that is impossible, but a game of simple tag is not. If you steal this dream from me, tell us tell us how it goes!

If you haven’t figured it out yet, Tughlaqabad is sort of like a giant sandbox. If you can allow yourself to regress into childlike imagination and restlessness you might just have the best day you’ve ever had in Delhi.

*Struck through and corrected after the comment by Arghanoon-e-aashiqaan at 05:05 on 24th May 2012

A story from Sultan Garhi

Prince Nasiru'd-Din Mahmud was brash and young. As the eldest son of Iltutmish and the governor of large parts of Eastern India, the prince had unparalleled prestige in the empire and was looked upon as the successor to the throne. This heir apparent slept on a bed laid with rose petals every night. A slave girl was employed just to ensure the petals were laid out well and the prince's bed stayed soft.

One day, tempted by luxury, the slave girl decided to see for herself how the bed felt. After all the prince wouldn’t be back until much later. However, the bed turned out to be so comfortable that the girl slept for over four hours and was only woken when the furious prince dragged her out of bed and ordered her flogged. As she was being flogged, she started laughing hysterically. This irritated the prince even more. He ordered her to be whipped harder. But the more she was punished, the more she laughed. Finally tired of the flogging and stumped the prince put a stop to the punishement and walked up to her.


'What is wrong with you? What is so funny!?'


The girl did not respond and just continued laughing. Multiple entreaties from the prince yielded no response. Finally, after much cajoling, the girl said:


'You will have me killed if I tell you what I think.'


Nasiru'd-Din Mahmud, curious as hell promised her riches and a life long pension if she would just open her mouth. Convinced, the girl replied,


'I was wondering if sleeping on this bed for four hours makes me feel so soft and weak, what must you feel like? You have slept on this bed all your life.'


The prince was flummoxed. This was a man known for his bravery, for having helped conquer parts of East India and was known as Malik-us-Sharq, King of the East. And here, right in front of his eyes, a slave girl, bound and tied was calling him a weakling. Stories say he was a fair minded man. He kept his word of reward to the girl. Before she left she predicted:


'You will never be the king. But you will be venerated as a saint.'


True enough, Nasiru'd-Din died long before his father and never got to be the king, though he was buried in a tomb befitting one. Over eight centuries later, without knowing the weight of the prince’s story locals from Sultanpur and Rangpur pray at the tomb and address him as baba, a title normally reserved for Sufis. Every thursday, the well to do from the villages host a free lunch for the poor. The entire community basks in the light of baba Nasiru'd-Din.


This was my introduction to Sultan Garhi. A middle aged man, lame with a wooden crutch, ostensibly the care taker of the tomb of Nasiru'd-Din Mahmud was flitting around in the dark underground crypt when I entered. Peering through his half closed eyes with a broom in his hand, he egged me to climb down the stairs. I could hardly see anything. A beam of light was entering the crypt from the small, short entrance, lighting the tomb in a surreal light and making it look like something from the distant past. Three graves lay at the bottom, two of them unidentified.


Seeing me stay around for much longer than others, the old man told me this story. There is much around the tomb to see. Its a unique structure, the oldest Muslim tomb in Delhi. You can read more about it here. There are Sanskrit inscriptions around, the oldest well excavated in Delhi, the restorations by the ever present Feroz Shah Tughluq and some Mughal ruins.


For a better version of the story however, you have to make the trip to the tomb and hope to meet the old man. To see the impact of baba Nasiru'd-Din and how a prince-turned-sufi fosters communal unity, find a Thursday afternoon, 12pm to be exact. Enjoy a free meal with the lungars at what is the oldest monument in Delhi.

The mihrab (far) and the octagonal crypt

Chatting in a tomb. Photo Courtesy: Rachel Leven

The divine light. Photo Courtesy: Rachel Leven

At Nasirud'din's grave. Photo Courtesy: Rachel Leven

Photo Courtesy: Rachel Leven

The Thursday feast.

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.