Delhi has been the “city of seven (or eight, or more?) cities”, they say, and as a result, nearly every nook and corner of the national capital offers you a chance to see a historical site, a tomb, or a lesser-known heritage structure. There are so many of them that Delhiites may drive by some of them every day of their lives and not know anything about them at all. Urban lifestyle disorders like encroachment may have led to the death or ill-health of a few of such heritage sites, but there are still plenty on offer to bump into during a casual and unplanned morning walk.
The same happened with me a few weeks back when I had a sudden urge to go and have a close encounter with some of the inhabitants of the Deer Park in Hauz Khas area.
Hauz-I-Alai, the reservoir built by Sultan Allauddin Khalji for use of residents of Siri, the city built by him, and other heritage structures in the Hauz Khas complex such as the tomb of Sultan Firoz Shah Tughlaq are among the historical landmarks of Delhi, but a few other monuments are also situated in the Deer Park, which lies just a few metres away. However, I knew nothing about them. I was just bored of going to Lodi Garden for morning walk every day and was seeking a change of venue on that day.
I have always visited Hauz Khas village -- famous for its posh eateries, designer garment outlets and other such “uber-cool" stuff -- during the evening rush hours. So, it was slightly odd to see rows and rows of closed shops and restaurants. This part of the city sleeps late and wakes up late, I thought, as I went through the gate of Deer Park, looking at the spread of vegetables on a plastic sheet and a group of customers haggling over the price of tomatoes. As the day progresses, they will be replaced by well-attired men and women, discussing “molecular gastronomy” or “gluten-free fast food".
I don't know whether it was the heat, or something else, but none of the four-legged residents of Deer Park were venturing outside, except the stray dogs, with whom I share a long-standing relationship of mutual uneasiness.
Shrugging off my fear of dogs, I started strolling in the park. Joggers, cyclists, yoga enthusiasts and morning walkers were scattered here and there, among uneven growth of vegetation, thorny shrubs and wide-stemmed trees spread haphazardly. However, after some time, I started missing the orderliness of Lodi Garden. It is much more organized and its better landscaping makes it easier for walkers to move unhindered. View-wise too, Lodi Garden is better, as the red and yellow sandstone of the tombs and monuments looks even more striking in the backdrop of sky-high trees, I thought, as I manoeuvred my way through prickly branches of shrubs.
Suddenly, as if by magic, a small black-domed structure appeared on my right side. As I went nearer, I could see the red-coloured ASI signboard announcing its name – Kali Gumti. No surprises there.
I looked around and there was a larger structure just a few yards away, half-hidden among trees. Internet search displayed its name - Bagh-I-Alam Ka Gumbad, 1501. There was no one around, except one elderly woman sitting on a bench and looking towards a greyish wall mosque adjoining the gumbad. It was like a painting – the old tomb, a few open dust-covered graves on the mosque courtyard, the octagonal pillars of the mosque, green and red leaves of the trees, the woman on the bench, a stray dog keeping a watch – together these elements created a moment of silence and isolation, as if transporting me to a slice of time in the past or in the future.
The tomb was constructed by one Abu Saeed for a mendicant named Sheikh Sahibuddin Taj Khan. Historians say the name Bagh e Alam indicates the presence of a garden at the site. Of course, no such thing can be seen now. But the mosque adjacent to the tomb is quite striking -- in its arched prayer niches, patterns along the upper side of the wall and the unknown graves lined up in what would have been the space for prayer if it would have been anactive mosque. Must be a sight on a moonlit night, this tomb and the mosque, I thought.
Maybe it is not that significant historically, but Bagh-e-Alam should be visited at least once by all Delhiphilles for its beauty and serenity.
The same happened with me a few weeks back when I had a sudden urge to go and have a close encounter with some of the inhabitants of the Deer Park in Hauz Khas area.
Hauz-I-Alai, the reservoir built by Sultan Allauddin Khalji for use of residents of Siri, the city built by him, and other heritage structures in the Hauz Khas complex such as the tomb of Sultan Firoz Shah Tughlaq are among the historical landmarks of Delhi, but a few other monuments are also situated in the Deer Park, which lies just a few metres away. However, I knew nothing about them. I was just bored of going to Lodi Garden for morning walk every day and was seeking a change of venue on that day.
I have always visited Hauz Khas village -- famous for its posh eateries, designer garment outlets and other such “uber-cool" stuff -- during the evening rush hours. So, it was slightly odd to see rows and rows of closed shops and restaurants. This part of the city sleeps late and wakes up late, I thought, as I went through the gate of Deer Park, looking at the spread of vegetables on a plastic sheet and a group of customers haggling over the price of tomatoes. As the day progresses, they will be replaced by well-attired men and women, discussing “molecular gastronomy” or “gluten-free fast food".
I don't know whether it was the heat, or something else, but none of the four-legged residents of Deer Park were venturing outside, except the stray dogs, with whom I share a long-standing relationship of mutual uneasiness.
Shrugging off my fear of dogs, I started strolling in the park. Joggers, cyclists, yoga enthusiasts and morning walkers were scattered here and there, among uneven growth of vegetation, thorny shrubs and wide-stemmed trees spread haphazardly. However, after some time, I started missing the orderliness of Lodi Garden. It is much more organized and its better landscaping makes it easier for walkers to move unhindered. View-wise too, Lodi Garden is better, as the red and yellow sandstone of the tombs and monuments looks even more striking in the backdrop of sky-high trees, I thought, as I manoeuvred my way through prickly branches of shrubs.
Suddenly, as if by magic, a small black-domed structure appeared on my right side. As I went nearer, I could see the red-coloured ASI signboard announcing its name – Kali Gumti. No surprises there.
I looked around and there was a larger structure just a few yards away, half-hidden among trees. Internet search displayed its name - Bagh-I-Alam Ka Gumbad, 1501. There was no one around, except one elderly woman sitting on a bench and looking towards a greyish wall mosque adjoining the gumbad. It was like a painting – the old tomb, a few open dust-covered graves on the mosque courtyard, the octagonal pillars of the mosque, green and red leaves of the trees, the woman on the bench, a stray dog keeping a watch – together these elements created a moment of silence and isolation, as if transporting me to a slice of time in the past or in the future.
The tomb was constructed by one Abu Saeed for a mendicant named Sheikh Sahibuddin Taj Khan. Historians say the name Bagh e Alam indicates the presence of a garden at the site. Of course, no such thing can be seen now. But the mosque adjacent to the tomb is quite striking -- in its arched prayer niches, patterns along the upper side of the wall and the unknown graves lined up in what would have been the space for prayer if it would have been anactive mosque. Must be a sight on a moonlit night, this tomb and the mosque, I thought.
Maybe it is not that significant historically, but Bagh-e-Alam should be visited at least once by all Delhiphilles for its beauty and serenity.
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