Dilli
Tales of an untethered soul
A novice may be mistaken by the description of this ancient city as a rather disparaging and mysterious one but the locals, immigrants and regular visitors can feel the heartbeat of this citys exuberant soul.
Delhi, extremely cold in winter-time and intolerably hot in summer is a tempest of vagrant experiences ranging widely across time, descent and cultures. It may not be called the soul of India but instead the heart of its struggle. Ruled over by the Rajahs and Maharajahs, Mamluks, Khiljis, Tughlaqs, Sayyids, Lodhis and finally the British. It has long been a slave of dominance until set free by the liberating wings of democracy in 1947.
But that is not all. Delhi is more than it’s history, more than its people, more than its geography.
T’is a lesson
It has seen deprivation and prosperity all around its glimmering lights and starving nights. The rhesus monkey that moves around with its chest puffed with pride and dogma knows the miseries and the joys of the city better than its present inhabitants.
There is poignance, forgiving the unforgiven. In the shadows of the great buildings and monuments and the shade of the few trees that are left. Souls of the lovers and the deceased loom in the dreading tunes of the crimes that have been committed in the alleys here, the unspeakable acts of monstrosity and the tales of oppression still remain in the darkness of its past and present. Poverty of the body, mind and soul still cries under the pressure of capitalism and from the ruins of colonialism and monarchy.
But Delhi is above that, Delhi is of a higher nature… it has lived passed all its nightmares both in the past and in the present only to succumb to the disease of technology and the pains of brain-drain. But it has evolved and prospered in every age.
Of Hope
Many crusaders have rode past the beauty of Delhi and fortified it with treasures, some even emptied her of it but she remains at the heart of all of their conquests and dreams. They somehow bury a part of them in her fertile soul forever and ever, to live on in her tresses and lores.
Delhi is but a bower to the several lives growing and thriving on her soil towards prosperity and love.
She is a reminder of struggles that have borne the fruit of happiness and the rains that have brought reap to the hearts of noble men.
When you look at this city from afar, it seems like a colony of ants with people everywhere. A strange cohesion binds them into the harmony of togetherness and it is in the pursuit for happiness, there is balance in its chaos.
The street vendors spread the joy by commoditizing all that they can provide to the people and the buyers reciprocate by encashing the joy into money. Money that serves the life of all the people that live into a varied legacy of class divided stugglers.
Delhi is attuned with the beauty of its travellers, it has peice of the whole cake. Persia, Turkey, Britain you name it. But more than being the centre of cross cultural magnificence Delhi is a poetic experience.
Delhi From the eyes of Poets
Delhi is treat from the eyes and words of poets Mirza Ghalib, Zauk, Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya and so many more, they envisioned this city through the lens of romanticism. How a plain land could encompass a warm beating heart only they would know, and later the world learnt.
यह शहर नहीं, महफिल है
This isn’t a city but a festival — Delhi 6
The winds move around in their rejoicement, in bliss and the people here they laugh, love and live in their own tranquility and in this speeding concussion of the worlds leads to a place called Delhi.
Where the poets rest their bones underneath the cold starry skies, the pigeons of the east surround tombs and trees alike, where the beggar finds it a luxury to rest amidst a flourishing crowning civilisation. One with no regret, with no connections of the past but an imagination for the future. A future entwined with the past of conquests and the presence of success.
Love at first sight is a connotation that has been so badly abused by the ethics of modern romance but for the poets of the past Delhi was the love they were chasing for and carried with them till the end of their very lives.
मुझ से दिल्ली की नहीं दिल की कहानी सुनिए
शहर तो यह भी कई बार लुटा है मुझ मैं
Hear from me the story of heart, not of Delhi
The city has robbed in me too many times. — Mansoor Usmani
While there is so much to talk about this place from the bazaars of Chandi Chowk to the Colleges and Monuments, there is vibrance even in the most minuscule things about it as they symbolise a idea of love and perseverance. But the truth remains you never mentally leave the vibe of this city because somewhere in your heart there is a Delhi growing and setting a new conquest, one that you have to either surrender to or emerge victorious.
कौन जाये ज़ौक़ पर दिल्ली की गलियां छोड़कर
Who should leave the streets of Delhi — Zauk
DISCLAIMER : This blog is not just biased to my viewpoint, so any universal conclusion via this blog is acceptable. I’m just another soul who wants to ignite the world with my proposition. All the pictures on this post have been clicked by the author.
