The Mehrauli Memoirs Part 1: Into Mehrauli
Through the crowded gullies of Mehrauli, I observe in alarm the battle between the present and the past. One trying to claim its space, the other desperately trying to hold on. Cao Cao, a Chinese general of the Three Kingdoms period said that a son grows up in the shadow of his father, and has to make his own space to reach the sunlight. Today, access to sunlight is a premium in the housing societies of Mehrauli. The ASI prohibits massive constructions around the tombs, which glint with unexpected, faded glory among the beauty parlours and mutton shops. But even the beauty of this glint needs its light – the eye searching for it.
In Mehrauli, the present, trying hard to reach its amrit-kaal chips away at one tomb, one baoli, one gate, one at a time; trying to eke out an illegal floor or an unauthorized electric connection, at least until they are inevitably regularized. The sultanate’s promises are now only in ruins. How can they beat free electricity?
My adventures in Mehrauli started early. It is a maze of warrens that even Maps cannot figure out. Then a horde of monkeys in an abandoned mosque looked violently enough at me, that I had to mark a hasty exit. Then a kite attacked me atop the Jahaz Mahal. It was as if this area of Delhi was asking me to not behold it. Perhaps if their beauty is re-recognized, the ASI would evict them all. But they should not fear – the true wild animals – the rummy players, have already made each of these places their own. The Mughals and Mamluks gambled with the fortunes of entire kingdoms. It is only fitting history repeats itself on a smaller scale.
While snatching the tomb,
the tenant says –
“Sultan, I’ll make it a mahal!”
Who says there is peace in death?
Only pieces.
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