Delhi is never far

People here often ask me which part of India I am from. It follows with which cities I have been to, and naturally, the names they enquire of are the biggest metropolises, roughly dotting the four corners of my beloved diamond shaped country.

Oh, you are from Calcutta? What about Delhi?

Have you been to Mumbai? Isn't Bangalore the IT capital of the country? etcetera, etcetera, etcetera

Usual questions, until the other day, a colleague asked me, ' So, you have been to Delhi, Mumbai and Calcutta! But how would you differentiate the three, maybe in one word?'

Interesting and difficult question - the ultimate elevator pitch, with the challenge of unfairly encapsulating an entire city in just a handful of letters. But I tried my best, closing my eyes and replying with the first word that came floating in my emotions as I thought back of the days and months and years that I spent in each of these places.

I responded, 'Culture for Calcutta, Money for Mumbai....,' but my alliteration broke off when it came to Delhi, and a flurry of thoughts raced past my mind - summer, loo, pollution, capital...and the one word that perhaps did justice to the city came hurtling back, 'History!' I shouted. And with that one word, I recollected my many trysts with Delhi - the capital of capitals, home to legends since the ancient times of the Mahabharat, and one whose history would defy the medieval and modern civilizations of man. Delhi, after all, is supposed to be the legendary Indraprastha of the Pandavas. It was a small but important jewel in the ancient silk routes that traversed India, threading with the likes of Peshawar and Kabul. But just like Indraprastha vanished with the departure of its founders, Delhi's ancient history gets lost in the circle of time. Until its resurgence through Prithviraj Chauhan, who established his capital here, followed by the succession of central Asian invaders who found the city not too far away into the heartlands of India. And with every dynasty - the Slaves, Khiljis, Lodis, Mughals, among others, came a new layer of paint on the chequered walls of Delhi. To a true historian, Delhi is thus a treasure, with its broken walls, fortresses and shrines holding riches that leap beyond the chained contents of a book or a manuscript.

Humayun's tomb - the first grand example of Persian architectural import into India

My first visit to Delhi was when I was a kid, visiting the golden triangle of north India. I ticked the usual favorites and yes, I was enamored with jingoism to see the tricolor floating over the Red Fort. I was awed by the height of the Qutab Minar, and remembered my lessons from history that it was once the tallest building in the country, and that no two storeys had the same pattern of design. And yes, I had tried to encircle the iron pillar of Mehrauli backwards, in vain, just as many others in the olden days when the 1500 year old metallurgical wonder was left to be touched and embraced by commoners!

The ruins of Mehrauli near the Qutab Minar

It was however, in my second tryst with Delhi, that I began to scratch the surface and see beyond the usual touristy brouhaha. I had already become insane in my thirst for travel, and when I went to Delhi the next time, as a part of a corporate training program in my first job, I unabashedly and happily quit my training to wander off in the streets of Delhi.

Like a truant student, I had ran off to the Lodi gardens of Delhi - a refreshing patch of emerald relief in the dusty days of Delhi. I loved the leafy gardens, dotted with octagonal architectures from the times of the Sayyids and the Lodis. Historically, it has been embellished by many a hand, including that of the great Mughal emperor Akbar as well as the later day British. There is even a stone bridge in the gardens, (considered to be one of the last few structures built by Akbar) over a moat that once upon a time drew waters from the Yamuna. History aside, the place was quite an oasis, especially with its shaded avenues, more so in the hotter months. After resting my beleaguered soul off both April and corporate dryness, I just walked out, rehydrated myself with plenty of sugarcane juice with extra lemons (Ah, one of the greatest joys of India - its overabundant street food that never falls short of flavor or variety) and took a rickety auto while asking the driver to keep driving until I got my traveller's next brainwave. In those days without Google maps on every handheld device, I had to rely on past knowledge or local guidance for pit stops on an unplanned truant day. In the process, I completely missed another architectural marvel - Safdarjung's tomb that was just a stone throw's distance away from the gardens. Instead I headed off to the broken ruins on the elevated lands of Purana Qila (Old Fort).

Time stops inside the Lodi Gardens

No one knows who made it, hence you will hear this place associated with every royal dynasty, from the Pandavas (legend has it this was Indraprastha) to the Mauryas, Guptas, all the way to the Mughals. There are a few extant structures though, definitely proving the contribution of the later day dynasties, while the rest get attributed to broken shards and pottery, that are getting discovered in this archaeological treasure trove every other day. The grand gateway and fortress walls were built by Humayun while a large mosque was raised by Sher Shah Suri. There is also an old tower inside that was used by Humayun for stargazing and that housed his library - It was here that the second Mughal emperor tripped on a staircase that led to a rather anticlimactic death. Apart from the handful of structures, nature has reclaimed most of the lands without regret - If this was ever the magical realm of the Pandavas, it would seem as if the mystical Khandav forests are trying to claw back into existence (the forests of Khandav were burnt by Arjun and Krishna to create their legendary capital).

My travels continued at few more spots  - Humayun's Tomb and the Jantar Mantar, ending the day at the paratha wala gali. I won't go into those for today but what I must mention are the unknown bits and pieces that lie about uncared for in every nook and corner of this megapolis. A four walled, blue ceramic tiled brick structure here, a crumbling old rotunda with a typical inverted onion dome there, the list goes on and on... in a city that has too much history, these are the sad casualties - unnamed, forgotten cenotaphs of the past but perhaps freed from the cycle of destruction and recreation that grasps the rest of the city. Very few places in the world can actually match this strange alloying of modern times in the midst of ancient remnants (Mexico City and Ahmedabad are a handful of examples that come to mind). But that is Delhi - razed and born countless times, because its willingness to survive is so strong, each time, a layer of history getting entangled in the web of eternal time.

One of four Jantar Mantars lie in the heart of Delhi

The next day, when I headed back to my corporate training program, my instructor asked me first of my health, as I was not 'too well' the earlier day. But she seemed to have already known me by then.

'So, why don't you tell me the truth? Which part of Delhi did you explore yesterday?'

And I replied unabashedly. 'Lodi gardens and Purana Qila, have your been there?'

After a brief hesitation between anger for lack of discipline and inquisitiveness, she had chosen the latter and smilingly shook her head

'You should go there someday, Delhi has so much to offer. Did you know that the octagonal based architecture in the gardens are the last specimens from that age...'

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Years pass by, and I open my eyes to the present, in my ivory tower of an office far away. The memories seem like yesterday. Perhaps, the fresher the memory, the greater you long to cherish them all over again.

If you have ever spent some time, no matter how little in this imperial jewel, you would have given a bit of yourself to the city. But more importantly, what you would have received from even a small sip of its never empty cup of history, will give you a life time of memories.

Then, wherever you go, wherever you are, Delhi will never be far...