Delhi
Page 1
About the book
Ronald Vivian Smith is an author of personal experiences – a rare breed to find in a time when even journalists hesitate to put pen to paper without scanning through the internet. A definitive voice when it comes to some known and unknown tales and an inspiration to a new generation of city-scribes, Smith is a master-chronicler of Delhi’s myriad realities. Among the capital’s most ardent lovers, Smith believes in the power of observation and interaction. His travels across Delhi, most often in a DTC bus, examine the big and small curiosities – seamlessly juxtaposing the past with the present. Be it the pride he encounters in the hutments of one of Chandni Chowk’s age-old beggar families, or his ambling walks around Delhi’s now-dilapidated cemeteries, Smith paints with his words a city full of magic and history. This anthology features short essays on the Indian sultanate, its fall after the British Raj, and its resurrection to become what it is today – the National Capital Territory of Delhi.
‘No amount of bookish knowledge can compete with the sort of insights and real, lived memories he [Smith] has.’ —Rakshanda Jalil, LiveMint
‘… When it comes to writing on monuments of Delhi – known, little known or unknown – no one does a better job than R.V. Smith.’ —Khushwant Singh, Hindustan Times
ROLI BOOKS
This digital edition published in 2015
First published in 2015 by
The Lotus Collection
An Imprint of Roli Books Pvt. Ltd
M-75, Greater Kailash- II Market
New Delhi 110 048
Phone: ++91 (011) 40682000
Email: info@rolibooks.com
Website: www.rolibooks.com
Copyright © R.V. Smith, 2015
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Roli Books. Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
eISBN: 978-93-5194-096-8
Cover: Sneha Pamneja
All rights reserved.
This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published.
Dedicated to Joseph Lawrence Tobias
(1935-2013)
more than a friend, a brother,
whose interest in the history of Agra (where he was born),
along with Delhi and Kolkata (where he died) was phenomenal.
Contents
Foreword
Preface
1. A Memorable Halloween
2. Afghan Amir’s Gateway
3. Armenian Seer
4. Basai Darapur and its Namesake
5. Bird-watching Delights
6. Celebrating the Monsoon
7. Chehlum with Mahabat Khan
8. Christmastime Reminiscences
9. Coming of the ‘Paharwalah’
10. Commemoration of the Durbar
11. Evening of Weird Experiences
12. Pre-winter Cameos
13. Harinagar Ghantaghar
14. Jahangir’s X’mas Gift
15. Waiting for Lakshmi
16. Pleasure & Risk of Eating Out
17. Preserve these Monuments
18. Reminiscences of An Old Mali
19. The Beggars’ Wedding
20. Damari Tales
21. Delhi’s Poetic Heritage
22. Denizens of Viran Wali
23. Diwali by Candlelight
24. Easter Garden Parties
25. Epical Comparisons
26. Evenings at Mausiqi Manzil
27. Facelift for the ‘Mina Bazaar’
28. Four Stalwarts Delhi has Lost
29. Graveyards of Delhi
30. Guns and Roses
31. Halim at a Dawakhana
32. Heritage of the Gumbads
33. History Enshrined in Mosques
34. Reminiscences of Nehru
35. New Delhi & Old Delhi
36. New Year’s Eve Reverie
37. Phaeton & Austin Yarns
38. Pigeon-Fanciers’ Day
39. Heroines & Bravehearts of 1857
40. Holi in the Past
41. King’s Abode in Danger
42. Lady Willingdon’s Hindsight
43. Redeeming Sher Shah’s Legacy
44. Rehabilitating the Dead
45. Mirza Ghalib’s Legacy
46. Moonlight Chowk’s Many Names
47. Mystique of Dak Bungalows
48. Names Tell a Tale
49. Old Hunting Tower
50. Ramzan Aura & Piety
51. Recollection on the Mutiny
52. Remembering Two Patriarchs
53. Reverie on Zafar
54. Saga of Wells
55. Shearing Innocence of the Lambs
56. Splendour in the Grass
57. Spring Festival
58. Tales of Allah Diya
59. Tales Ridge Monuments Tell
60. Talking Drums
61. Temples of Antiquity
62. The Fall of the House of Joanides
63. The Galis of Delhi
64. The Ghostly Trail
65. The Battle of 1803
66. The Mughals’ Rain-Holiday
67. The Sirens of Delhi
68. Vampires & Phantoms
69. Vanished Birdcatcher
70. View From the Rugged Heights
71. River Swimming Craze
72. When Trams Plied
73. Windmills to Revive ‘The Past’
About the Author
Foreword
am delighted to introduce this new book by an old friend, R.V. Smith, whose writing and general knowledge of Delhi, his adopted home, is legendary. History runs in the Smith family, who are descended from Salvador Smith (1783-1871), the soldier who trained the troops of Daulat Rao Scindia.
R.V. Smith is the son of the late journalist Thomas Smith (1910-1995), whose articles in numerous newspapers were always full of interesting snippets about the bits of history that historians usually neglect. His book, Agra: Rambles and Recollections was republished in 2007. R.V. Smith is a worthy successor to his father, and is the author of eight books on Delhi, of which, The Delhi That No-One Knows has become a bestseller.
During his career, R.V. Smith worked for the Statesman, and since retirement has continued to pen articles for the Hindu and the Statesman. He began writing articles on monuments, historical places and the social life in the Walled City of old Delhi in 1958. He also writes poetry and romantic novels, including Jasmine Nights & The Taj. Another novel, on the eighteenth-century courtesan who became the empress, Qudsia Begum is underway. His interest extends to Egyptology, the occult, which led to a book of ghost stories, The Veiled Shadow, and mysticism.
He came to Delhi over fifty-two years ago and slowly grew to love the city. A born romantic, he attended mujras by dancing girls and sat at the shrines of Sufi saints late at night to hear qawwalis. Born in January 1938, he was educated at St Peter’s College, Agra, from where he did his Senior Cambridge and later received the MA degree in English literature at St John’s college. His liking for Delhi was heightened by the fact that it is almost a twin of Agra, his beloved home town, where he still goes to recharge his batteries. The old-world ambience of Delhi intoxicated him and he tried to merge it with his Anglo-Indian antecedents, researching poets like Alexander Heatherley ‘Azad’, a pupil of Ghalib’s nephew, and Benjamin Montrose ‘Muztar’, a pupil of Ustad Daagh Dehlvi.
As a regular Sunday churchgo
er, he found that many of the earlier Italian Capuchin fathers had written treatises on Mughal history, medieval life and manners, right up to the aftermath of Great Uprising of 1857. This also gave him material for his own articles. In his long career he has won a Rotary Club award, the Michael Madhusudan award for journalism and the Canon Holland prize for general knowledge. For him Delhi is not a city but a timeless begum who excites love, devotion and nostalgia. She is truly the beloved of all Delhiwalahs but mistress of none.
This is a book to be enjoyed, that will surprise those who believe they already know everything about their city.
– Dr Rosie Llewellyn-Jones
London
Preface
elhi fascinated me after I had fallen in love with Agra, my birthplace. Though my second home does not have as many monuments as the city of the Taj Mahal, it is fortunate in being the capital of the country and as such the cynosure of all eyes. But its medieval edifices (despite the ASI’s efforts) are in need of better preservation. This book is a collection of articles originally written for the Statesman and the Hindu (published between 1990 and 2011), with whose courtesy they are being reproduced under one cover. It is from my father, Thomas Smith, that I inherited interest in old, half-forgotten things and the urge to celebrate ‘lost causes and forsaken beliefs’. Besides the Internet, the tendency to stand and stare is also the begetter of knowledge. This is what I, a virtual computer novice have practiced over the decades and the result is before you. My sincere thanks to Roli Books for consenting to publish a rambler’s labour of love.
– R.V. Smith
1
A Memorable Halloween
alloween is observed in Delhi in the Diplomatic Enclave. Some hotels have also started observing the eve of the feast of the All Hallows or All Saints.
On that night, it is believed that the spirits of the dead pay a visit to their erstwhile habitat. Since it is hard to find spirits, people dress up as wizards and witches – and some even put on pumpkin heads, complete with cut-out features of what a ghost would look like. Some children go even further and dress in black, and wear masks depicting a skeleton’s face. There have been instances in the U.S. and Britain too, when immigrants from the Orient, particularly women and kids, have gotten hysterical on answering the doorbell and seeing Halloween revelers grinning at them with ghoulish glee. A girl from Lebanon nearly died after one such encounter in New York last year.
In India, few people know about this strange observance, but some embassy staff of Western countries get together to put up a Halloween show in Chanakyapuri. This scribe attended one such show at a time when Peter Hazelhurst was a representative of the Times, London in New Delhi. Hazelhurst had just dropped in for a short while, but the AP man had come all decked up like a wizard and was among those group of people – including a few women – who seemed to be enjoying the early 1970s evening the most, with groans and screams and whistles building up a ghostly atmosphere in the dimly-lit room.
A diplomat called Smallfoot sat in a corner, regaling guests with a story he had heard from a former Times man, Neville Maxwell – or so he claimed. Maxwell, incidentally, was an Oxford don who went back to university after his stint as a newsman. And the story went like this.
In the days when Sir Thomas Metcalfe was the British Resident in Delhi (1836-1853), he would hold a Halloween’s function at the Metcalfe House. That was a few months before he was poisoned by Queen Zeenat Mahal. As the night progressed, Sir Thomas suggested that scary tales be told to create the right ambience.
Among the invitees was a morose doctor who was picked by the lot to tell the first tale. The man seemed to be least inclined to do so, but the guests were adamant and the ladies at their coaxing best. So the short, fat Dr Hamilton cleared his throat and related this yarn based on that period in the nineteenth century when the ‘Vampire plague’ was sweeping Europe and elsewhere too.
When the doctor was attached to a civil surgeon in Delhi, he was summoned by his senior one day and asked to proceed to Mehrauli to examine a Thakur whose case, he was told, was most unusual. The doctor declined at first, but seeing that his boss was put off by the refusal, agreed to travel to the tehsil on horseback.
Dr Hamilton was greeted at the gate by a durban, who informed him that Thakur Beni Singh’s life had undergone two changes within the span of a few years. The first one, following the death of his wife and daughter from consumption, was that he took to the life of a gay lothario frequenting courtesans. And the second change came about when he bought an old chess set during an auction.
He stopped going out after that and spent his evenings playing chess all alone. That was collaborated by Thakur. The doctor found him looking thin and rundown. He confided that he was not suffering from an illness but anxiety – the anxiety to meet his ‘Begum’ on moonlit nights. His reference was to the Queen – the prized chess piece – which, he claimed, came alive on bright nights and lent him her company and much more.
The doctor was not amused and guessed that this man was suffering from consumption too. So he prescribed him medicines and beat a hasty retreat from the eerie haveli of the aristocratic chess player. The Thakur had told him that the ‘Rani’ would come for the last and final time the next moonlit fortnight and take him with her.
Sure enough after a fortnight, the civil surgeon was informed by the durban that his master had died during the night under mysterious circumstances. So the civil surgeon, Dr Hamilton and the magistrate galloped to the Mehrauli haveli on their horses and what they found unnerved them too.
2
Afghan Amir’s Gateway
he collapse of a portion of the Sher Shah Gate opposite the Purana Qila, known as the Lal Darwaza, brings to mind the visit of Amir Habibullah from Afghanistan to Delhi in the first decade of the twentieth century. Amir, who was assassinated in Kabul in 1919, not long after he went back to his faction-ridden country, had come to Delhi for a talk with the viceroy of British India, and also utilized this time to survey medieval monuments, especially those built by Afghan rulers. Among these were monuments constructed by Sher Shah Suri, who had ousted Humayun and restored Afghan rule for fifteen years. Amir, having seen the tank which provided water to the namazis for ‘wazu’ or the ceremonial washing of face, hands, and feet before prayers at the Khair-ul-Minazil mosque and noticing the deplorable state in which it was, had it repaired at his own expense. This mosque was built during the reign of Akbar near the Sher Shah Gate by the Mughal emperor’s wet nurse Maham Anga in 1561, while Sher Shah’s mosque came up in 1545, along with his gate around the same time. On Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg is the Kabuli Darwaza, a sort of twin of the Lal Darwaza.
Within the boundaries of the Old Fort, Sher Shah built the Quila Khuna Masjid, a gem of an example of Afghan architecture, which was repaired by Lord Curzon during his viceroyship. Sher Shah’s architectural technique is said to have been followed by Akbar when he constructed several buildings of the same style in Agra. Lal Darwaza, damaged by the August rains, was one of the gates built by Sher Shah in his new city of Delhi, besides the Kabuli Darwaza, which probably got its name because of the caravans which would pass it on their way to Kabul. It is now known as Khooni Darwaza, just opposite Maulana Azad Medical College, where a young medico was raped some years ago. The Khooni Darwaza got its name after Bahadur Shah Zafar’s sons and grandson were shot dead there by Lt. Hodson in 1857, when the British forces had recaptured Delhi and the Last Emperor had taken refuge in Humayun’s Tomb. There are other stories too about its nomenclature as reminders of its bloody past. One of them is of criminals who would be hanged till death there, and another is related to the capture and execution of Dara Shikoh by Aurangzeb, his younger brother.
However, most accounts say that Dara was paraded through the streets of Shahjahanabad before being taken for execution. His body is said to have been buried in the vault at Humayun’s Tomb, where several other Mughal princes are also buried. But what happened to his head, nobody knows. One story is that
it was thrown near the Khooni Darwaza to be eaten by hyenas and wolves, which prowled about there. But there is no historical evidence of this. Another story about this Darwaza would have us believe that a colony of Kabuli Afghans was situated nearby (hence its name), but this too is not mentioned in the pages of history. Amir Habibullah’s interest in the Delhi monuments stemmed from his love for Afghan history and its glorious days when Afghans reigned over Hindustan. He wanted to bring back those palmy days in his country which, like India, had been subjugated by the British. While repairing the tank in Khair-ul-Minazil Masjid, he turned his attention to other monuments also, among them was the Sher Shah Gate, part of which is believed to have been repaired by the Indian masons employed by him. One of the overseers of these workers was a nephew of Ahmed Sayeed Khan, Deputy Inspector General of Police, Jodhpur State, who had been unemployed for a long time and was drafted for supervisory duty on his uncle’s recommendation that he belonged to an old Afghan family.
Masood Mian used to relate the story of the Amir’s visit with great relish. He later migrated to Karachi, where he died, but his reminiscences of Amir’s visit survive in Old Delhi gossip. Masood Mian one day sought an interview with Amir Habibullah and gave him a tawiz (amulet), blessed at Nizamuddin Dargah, saying that he should wear it for his personal safety. After the Amir’s assassination, Masood Mian remarked that he had probably thrown it away as he was a Wahabi (member of an orthodox section of Islam that does not believe in talismans). The collapse of the Lal Darwaza brought back this anecdote to mind. How strange that a little incident of rain havoc in a way is linked to the visit of a twentieth-century Afghan ruler.
3
Armenian Seer
he Tughlaqabad railway rest house is a special place of interest for those nostalgic about times past. One may doubt the story of the Bhawal Sanyasi having visited it in the course of his wanderings for justice, which he eventually achieved when Sir Dingle Foot of the Queen’s Counsel, proved before the Privy Council, London that he was indeed the Kumar of Bhawal State (now in Bangladesh). He had been poisoned by his rani (the wife of his elder brother, whom he had married as per custom after his death). But as fate would have it, his funeral pyre was doused by a sudden thunderstorm and a group of sadhus passing by, seeing signs of life, rescued him. The grateful prince accompanied the sadhus through jungles and towns for twelve years, until he was in a position to stake his claim in the Calcutta High Court and provide proof of his royal identity to the Privy Council.