Ever since I started my backpacking, I always met some interesting people and end up in interesting places. My travel journals are filled with many such incidents.
Well it is a Sunday morning, and I got up early and decided to browse my old travel journals. Here is one from my 'Great historical north Indian trip' of 2009.
I met him near Kalan Masjid in Old Delhi and he is quite indelible in my canvas of travel portraits. I was lost in the maze of old Delhi streets which is always a sweet thing to happen and my destination was to find out the mausoleum of Sultan Razia Begum. Being the only women Sultan to have ruled over Delhi (the next women to rule Delhi would be Indira Gandhi, some 750years later), I always wanted to visit the grave of her. This place is not in any regular touristic trails which is what I wanted.
My map told that 'Razia mausoleum' is not far away from Turkman gate in Old Delhi. The rickshaw-walah dropped me near the Kalan Masjid area from where I started walking asking directions to Razia's grave. Razia is so forgotten in contemporary India that one suggested me to find the whereabouts of Razia's son first, so that he can help me in finding the grave. I was quite unprepared for this and my laxity of Hindi vocabulary prevented me from explaining him about Razia Sultan's skill and valor.
Probably my backpack would have added the noble hump on my back, an old man approached me with a profound care towards the lost wanderer. The scar in his forehead and the beard showed his piety, the pale skin and crackling voice his senility. I told him about my quest to see Razia's grave and he readily agreed to take me there (You meet such helpful people rarely in Delhi).
What followed was a walk through the history. He was perplexed by the cruelity of nobles conspiring and in the end murdering the first female Sultan. And how instability prevailed in Delhi following the murder of Razia sultan until order was established by Balban. For a few minutes, I forgot that I was living in 21st century and was taken 700years back . The Slave dynasty (and also Mughal empire) had always been my favorite topic in my sessions in Library before I undertook the trip. The stories of Qutb-ud-din Aibak, Illtutmish, Balban (each of whom were slaves who later rose to become emperors) are so interesting that I had burnt nights of midnight oil reading about them. Now, I am discussing all this like current affairs with this Muslim nobleman. It is one of the marvels of travel.
Some of the streets that he took me through were so narrow that only a goat can walk through it. The windows were blaring Hindi songs and the balconies smelled of wet clothes. The narrow street gave way for open squares (where men were smoking and talking politics) only to be followed by another narrow street. I didn't mind getting lost.
Finally, the noble man opened a large iron gate of what seemed to be a unkempt garden. 'Yahi hai. Razia ki Samadhi' told the old man scratching his beard.
There were two small mounds separted by a few inches. A goat was sleeping on top of one of the grave, which the noble man didnt like. He told one of the grave is of Razia and the other one is that of her sister Shazia, but didn't tell me which is what. He cursed the ASI (Archaeological Survey of India) for neglecting this historic place and Muslims of Old-Delhi for forgetting Islam.
The neglected state of Razia's grave gives a harsh reality check. The fact that none of the women rights organisations is taking measures to fight for its proper attention is quite surprising. The Razia sultan whom I portrayed in library sessions through the books definitely deserves a better honour than this neglected grave.
The old Noble man who took me to this place quietly retired to prepare for the next prayer as I stood in what should be historically important landmark in India.
Well it is a Sunday morning, and I got up early and decided to browse my old travel journals. Here is one from my 'Great historical north Indian trip' of 2009.
I met him near Kalan Masjid in Old Delhi and he is quite indelible in my canvas of travel portraits. I was lost in the maze of old Delhi streets which is always a sweet thing to happen and my destination was to find out the mausoleum of Sultan Razia Begum. Being the only women Sultan to have ruled over Delhi (the next women to rule Delhi would be Indira Gandhi, some 750years later), I always wanted to visit the grave of her. This place is not in any regular touristic trails which is what I wanted.
My map told that 'Razia mausoleum' is not far away from Turkman gate in Old Delhi. The rickshaw-walah dropped me near the Kalan Masjid area from where I started walking asking directions to Razia's grave. Razia is so forgotten in contemporary India that one suggested me to find the whereabouts of Razia's son first, so that he can help me in finding the grave. I was quite unprepared for this and my laxity of Hindi vocabulary prevented me from explaining him about Razia Sultan's skill and valor.
Probably my backpack would have added the noble hump on my back, an old man approached me with a profound care towards the lost wanderer. The scar in his forehead and the beard showed his piety, the pale skin and crackling voice his senility. I told him about my quest to see Razia's grave and he readily agreed to take me there (You meet such helpful people rarely in Delhi).
What followed was a walk through the history. He was perplexed by the cruelity of nobles conspiring and in the end murdering the first female Sultan. And how instability prevailed in Delhi following the murder of Razia sultan until order was established by Balban. For a few minutes, I forgot that I was living in 21st century and was taken 700years back . The Slave dynasty (and also Mughal empire) had always been my favorite topic in my sessions in Library before I undertook the trip. The stories of Qutb-ud-din Aibak, Illtutmish, Balban (each of whom were slaves who later rose to become emperors) are so interesting that I had burnt nights of midnight oil reading about them. Now, I am discussing all this like current affairs with this Muslim nobleman. It is one of the marvels of travel.
Some of the streets that he took me through were so narrow that only a goat can walk through it. The windows were blaring Hindi songs and the balconies smelled of wet clothes. The narrow street gave way for open squares (where men were smoking and talking politics) only to be followed by another narrow street. I didn't mind getting lost.
Finally, the noble man opened a large iron gate of what seemed to be a unkempt garden. 'Yahi hai. Razia ki Samadhi' told the old man scratching his beard.
There were two small mounds separted by a few inches. A goat was sleeping on top of one of the grave, which the noble man didnt like. He told one of the grave is of Razia and the other one is that of her sister Shazia, but didn't tell me which is what. He cursed the ASI (Archaeological Survey of India) for neglecting this historic place and Muslims of Old-Delhi for forgetting Islam.
The neglected state of Razia's grave gives a harsh reality check. The fact that none of the women rights organisations is taking measures to fight for its proper attention is quite surprising. The Razia sultan whom I portrayed in library sessions through the books definitely deserves a better honour than this neglected grave.
The old Noble man who took me to this place quietly retired to prepare for the next prayer as I stood in what should be historically important landmark in India.
3 comments:
After Michael Wood's quest was portrayed through the 'Story of India' series, I was wondering if there were our own people so inquisitive about our story.
Mughals and their confluence into India has always been intriguing to me, just that my sleep overcomes my desire to burn any oil at all! But that I know people like you, it fills the gap and seems to pardon my impatience :-) Shall come to you for more on this.
Thanks, for my own pleasure, for such a great find...
@Sudheendhar:
Yes, being a self-confessed Delhi-phile and the days I spent there during my backpacking odyssey were itself worth a book.. from tracing the walls of Siri fort to browsing Mirza Ghalib in Ballimaran..
I like the most when I share my travel encounters with others.. you are welcome anytime for a coffee chat on pre-colonial India
errata:
it should have been 'browsing Haveli of Mirza ghalib' in my previous comment..:-) I cannot meet Mirza Ghalib anymore, he died some 140yrs ago..:-)
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