One of my earliest memories are of busy, congested roads built across monumental, century-old buildings that gave one a feeling of an old-fashioned yet supremely charming era. These roads led us to my mother's distant relative who resided in a 100 year old house, just on the side of a busy street. The place was Iooked forward to most by me, other than my favorite destination of good old Faridabad. My father didn't own a car then. So our journey comprised of taking a bus from the Panchsheel Vihar Bus Stop, changing to another via Kotla and hiring the services of a Rickshaw Puller at the Chandni Chowk Bus stop to drop us just outside the house.
The house was a very large one, the interiors of which were nothing short of awe-inspiring. It was mostly an open space in the middle, with corridors on either side of the setup. Both the corridors consisted of about 6 rooms each, for different purposes of cooking, bathing, praying, reading and sleeping. Flights of stairs on either side connected the building through the first floor. I didn't know this back then, but a large number of houses in Daryaganj, Old Delhi, were built in similar fashion. That was a unique characteristic of the lifestyle in that part of Delhi. The wide, open, and serene atmosphere of the interiors presented a completely different picture to the noisy, bustling and chaotic roads on the outside.
I was a ten-year old brat when we stopped visiting the place, as our relative had shifted to Pune by then. I never set my foot in the area again. Many of my friends in later years planned a trip down to Old Delhi for hangout purposes and for trying the all-India famous street-side delicacies outside Jama Masjid, but I never accompanied them. It was possibly due to my growing indifference to visiting parts other than South Delhi. Blame it on my laziness that had crept in due to the fact that most of my School and College life was spent in Universities of South Delhi. I cannot think of any other reason why I never experienced whether the old-world aura had affected itself because of the changing times.
The day finally came when a good friend of mine suggested a Metro ride. Having nothing to do in the previous weekend, I agreed. After an uneventful, boring walk in the Connaught Place circles, we thought we should try going to a different place. Back inside the Metro Station, he suggested Chandni Chowk. I was not too keen as usual, but he persisted and almost created a scene. I had no other to choice but to reluctantly agree.
Once out of the Chandni Chowk Station, it seemed as if the entire road was bombarded by hawkers of all kinds; from those who sold handkerchiefs to hair clips to even second-hand mobile phones. As we reached the main road, we asked for directions to Jama Masjid, which was a 10-minute-walk destination from the Metro Line. Walking past terribly crowded roads and innumerable shops, we finally reached the magnificent mosque.
To my pleasant surprise, I learned that the place in particular had managed to retain the same level of excitement for its visitors it had years ago. Thankfully, it is not one bit affected by the mall culture that has spread over the cities. There are still hordes of people who continue to throng to one of the greatest establishments of the capital. There are still tens of them waiting for the arrival of their food plates at the Chola-Bhatura counters. There are still many you can notice, having a childish gleam in their eyes, while they suck on their Chuskis. And there are still many who negotiate with sellers over prices at roadside cloth markets.
Within a couple of hours, I was back in the Air-Conditioned comfort zone of my house. However, my mind was still lost somewhere in the scorching heat, uneven roads, and splendour of Old Delhi.
