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DOWN MEMORY LANE

Monumental misery

Burji Khan’s tomb in R.K. Puram and the monuments in Mohammadpur village are not the only ones showing the ravages of time. There are several tombs in Delhi in urgent need of preservation. Among these is the mausoleum of Azim Khan. Little is k nown about this nobleman of the 16th Century, who probably served in Kandahar and the Deccan. Azim means magnificent, and parental hopes while naming the child seem to have been realised in this case.

It is sad to note that the historical records of minor monuments of Mehrauli got lost during the Partition when families connected with personages of yore migrated to Pakistan. Those living in the vicinity of such monuments are still by and large reservoirs of knowledge handed down from father to son, even though their versions are tainted by additions not wholly historical. Azim Khan’s monument is one such. During the British days beer parties were held at Azim Khan’s tomb before the picnic season finally ended with the onset of summer and the Lat Sahib’s departure to Shimla, leaving Delhi to bake in the heat of May and June. No sahibs, memsahibs, babalogs and ayahs wend their way to the tomb of Azim Khan now. But it is heartening to note that the Archaeological Survey of India is making efforts to preserve the monument.

You stand outside Delhi College of Engineering, housed in what was once a palace of Dara Shikoh, and what do you see? Desolation indeed! Even the 20th Century structures are in a dilapidated state. Yes, Skinner’s church looks better preserved, but what about the other buildings around, including the mosque and the verandahs on the opposite side of the road with rooms on top that are reminiscent of Kipling’s Shimla? Wander towards the Kashmere Gate and feel despondent at its state of utter neglect. The Bengali Club at the side evokes memories of Nirad Chaudhuri. One met him sometimes walking from Maiden’s Hotel to Kashmere Gate, stick in hand and dressed in a three-piece suit, a small man who talked to himself, ignoring the stares of passers-by.

Kashmere Gate was a fashionable centre at one time. It is going the way of all human creations. And as you climb the stairs of the Kauria bridge and its extension and descend to the other side, you see more desolation in the name of haphazard development. Even the grounds of Hardinge Library have been encroached upon. There are cars, scooters, buses, taxis parked on the grounds, and behind them are the crumbling walls of the havelis of Chandni Chowk. The Chowk itself is devoid of its old charm with heavy traffic instead of a stream flowing through it.

Proceeding to the Jama Masjid, the shops and the dhabas make you wonder how Shah Jehan could have walked up to his grand mosque this way. The environs of the Masjid, particularly Urdu Bazaar, Matia Mahal and Chawri Bazar, with shops competing cheek by jowl, and the stink from the fish and poultry market, make you beat a hasty retreat via Azad Park, which had its days of glory as Edward Park. You cross the busy road at considerable risk to life and limb and reach the rear of the Red Fort. The scene is again disheartening. Once the Yamuna flowed here and boats were tied in it for the pleasure of the emperor and his harem. Now the river has retreated and is no longer fit for pleasure boating. What would the great Mir Taqi Mir have said had he seen Delhi now? And Zauq? Would he have insisted on living in its galis? It’s a mercy they were spared the despoliation of Shahjehanabad in a perverse century.

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