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DOWN MEMORY LANE
The denizens of Viran Wali
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Viran Wali is now marked chiefly by its raucous hordes of monkeys, but in the days gone by it had its share of mahals, princes and gypsy girls, says R.V. SMITH
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Viran Wali off Malcha Marg, is still a wilderness of sorts. In bygone days it must have been a jungle where the emperor and his retinue hunted and drank deep of the spirit of the wild. Such lonely spots are fast disappearing from Delhi and hence it i
s a pleasure to visit Viran Wali when there is nothing else to do. A part of it is well maintained but the rest is still overgrown with trees and shrubs where doves coo and monkeys chatter. In fact there are several families of monkeys here, each with its leader, a fat and proud patriarch who fiercely enforces discipline and protects the members of his life.
His is a harem as of old, with several maidens, madams, mothers, gay gallants and young ones learning the tricks. Sometimes the monkey horde raids the neighbouring areas, but otherwise it is well cared for by people who stop by to feed the denizens of Viran Wali. As for the birds, there are several varieties – doves, pigeons, mynahs, parrots, crows, kites, woodpeckers, seven sisters, bulbuls, an occasional partridge and also peacocks. The woodpeckers feed in flocks, sitting on the ground like a group of nuns. The pigeons make love in quiet corners, the partridge hide in the foliage, the crows and kites engage in running battles with the monkeys, the bulbuls swing on tender branches, the mynahs peck away at stray animals, the peacocks flaunt their tails as they stride majestically before the peahens. But the seven sisters rush from tree to tree in keeping with the legend that they are actually seven princesses turned into birds by their stepmother, who was a witch and wanted her own children to possess the kingdom. The seven sisters keep looking for the magic leaf which will help to dispel the charm and make them princesses again. So goes the fable.
Strange girl
Viran Wali in medieval times had a number of hunting lodges, some built by Firoz Shah. A story worth recounting is about a successor of his who fell in love with a girl drawing water from a well in this wilderness. He went back to his palace and kept returning to meet the strange girl who had stolen his heart. But he didn’t get to marry her as one day she just disappeared. Whether she was killed by some wild animal, carried away by robbers or murdered at the behest of a jealous queen is not known.
The name with which posterity remembers her is Viran Wali (girl of the wilds), though Wali and Wala also referred to localities in earlier times, in which case Viran Wali could mean wild area. In a corner of it is a grave revered as that of Viran Shah, a mendicant, around which some people have built huts and hung festoons as though celebrating a perpetual Urs. Perhaps it is an attempt to justify encroachment. Incidentally it is said that Firoz Shah himself fell in love with a gypsy girl, for whom he built Malcha Mahal, not far from Viran Wali. This mahal also served as his shikargarh. At present its occupants are a prince and princess of Awadh, children of Begum Wilayat Mahal, who died under mysterious circumstances some years ago. Some say the begum, who had been given Malcha Mahal in compensation for her claim to ancestral property in Lucknow, took her own life by swallowing a diamond.
On the Ridge, opposite Pusa Road, is Bhuli Bhayari’s mahal, which has now almost disappeared, except for the gate and boundary wall. This mahal is believed to have been built by Firoz Shah for a fair innkeeper or gram roaster who offered him water during a thirsty shikar trip. There are other stories about the mahal, one linking it with Bhu Ali Bhatt, a nobleman. But one would like to associate it with another girl of the wilds, like Viran Wali, for legends are more enchanting than factual history.
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