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The flower power of Delhi

With Phool Walon Ki Sair round the corner, R.V. Smith savours the fragrance of the festival of flowers

The flower-sellers of Delhi exude a charm of their own. When the day is spent they sit selling the seasonal flowers, which attract the eye and give an all-pervading feeling of freshness. In summer it is the motia, chameli, raat-ki-rani and the chandni flowers that fall like moonlight in the quiet of the night, as though some lover was showering his emotions on his beloved.

It looks as though the world of flowers is far removed from the one we encounter in the Capital. The heavy traffic and rush for daily bread causes every man, woman and child to sweat it out and makes one wonder if Wordsworth was right when he heard the "still sad music of humanity" amidst the hum of busy man. Perhaps the music is there when the mind wills. And that's when one's at ease, not hurrying about but loitering.

The row of flower-sellers in Chandni Chowk and Chitli Qabar are two places worth visiting on an evening. Pause here a while and eye the blooms on sale - white red, pink, purple or yellow. Think of the gardeners who tended them with love, the dewdrops that opened the petals every morning and the butterflies that settle on them, or the bees and the birds that befriended these givers of perfume and happiness. Buy a few from the girl, a veritable flower-maiden, the one who sits with her hair open, needling the motias into garlands, each containing a huge rose. She has spent a lot of time on each but would willingly sell them to you rather than allow the flowers to dry up and die.

n Chandni Chowk, once Moghul princesses came from the Red Fort to buy `gajras' for their hairdo, modern women do the same. But in those days flowers did not cost as much as they do now, for they were aplenty. Eunuchs accompanied those medieval damsels, but if they had to meet their lovers at the flower-seller's point they did so with many a subterfuge thrown in for the purpose. The lovers were not all noblemen - humbler souls too were favoured. Times have changed but not the flowers.

Devotion and passion

In Chitli Qabar on a Thursday you can see the charm of flowers, with both men and women buying them for the weekly devotions at the shrines where the qawwalis are sung with gusto and where sometimes a lover catches a glimpse of his future wife in the smoke of joss-sticks.

But long after all the pretty faces have ceased to dazzle the bazaar, a half-blind bearded man sits patiently waiting for more customers. And when they are long in coming, he caresses the rose petals by the handful for they seem to be dearer to his heart than all the beloveds of the world.

September-end will mean special days for him because then the old man will go to attend Phool Walon-Ki-Sair, which is being celebrated earlier this year than usual so as to avoid a clash with various other local functions.

fter attending the festival, this old-timer will be among the handful of people who not only visit Mehrauli to pay homage at the Khwaja Sahib's shrine and Yog Maya Mandir, but also Nizamuddin. It is in the latter basti that the mausoleum of Mirza Jahangir is situated. This prince was the favourite son of Akbar Shah Sani and Begum Mumtaz Mahal II. And it was his return from exile in Allahabad that led to the birth of Phool Walon-Ki-Sair.

As is well known, Mirza Jahangir's mother had vowed to offer pankhas at the two shrines in Mehrauli if the prince returned safe and sound to Delhi. He did so in 1812, and hence the celebration. But there was no improvement in his behaviour and the British sent him back to Allahabad, where he drank himself to death in 1821. His body was brought to Delhi and buried by his parents in a beautiful tomb in Nizamuddin. After that the way was clear for his elder stepbrother to ascend the throne as Bahadur Shah Zafar in 1837.

However, not many people are aware of Mirza Jahangir's mausoleum and its significance during Phool Walon-Ki Sair. The old, bearded flower-seller is one of those who knowabout it.

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