Return of Poirot

It was around seven in the evening, near the French Memorial, a number of tourists were taking pictures. One man stood out in the crowd. He was a portly man in his sixties, wearing waist coat, overcoat and loose-fitting trousers, who had much resemblance to a penguin and looked completely out of place. Even more strange were his upwardly curled moustache and many a tourist thronged to take selfies with him. The man rudely brushed them aside and walked into the huge French Consulate with the guard standing at the gate giving him a tight salute. The gentleman went straight to his room and dialed a number…

Yes, I have reached Puducherry and I shall be here for the next two days. Hopefully it would be enough to solve the death of Francois Martin, a French citizen, who had come here on a vacation. I shall keep you posted with the developments and now I must take leave for my dinner.

Thank you, Monsieur Poirot…said the voice on the other side…let me just give you a brief about the place and the incident about which the local police have been informed and they will give you full cooperation in the case.

Ok, please go ahead but keep the brief, very brief.

You see Monsieur, Puducherry, as the locals now call Pondicherry, comprises of the erstwhile French colonies of Puducherry, Karaikal, Mahe and Yanam. While Puducherry and Karaikal regions are in Tamil Nadu, Mahe is in Kerala and Yanam is in Andhra Pradesh. The foundation of present-day Pondicherry was laid in the year 1673 after the “La Compagnie française des Indes orientales” (French East India Company) successfully obtained farman from the Qiladar of Valikondapurarm under the Sultan of Bijapur. During the French Revolution in the year 1793 the British East India Company took control of the region but returned it to the French East India Company in 1814. When India gained independence in 1947, Pondicherry remained a French enclave. On a de facto basis, the local bureaucracy had been united with India’s on 1 November 1954 and the de jure union of French India with the Indian Union took place in the year 1963. Puducherry is the Tamil interpretation of "new town" and mainly derives from "Poduke", the name of the marketplace or "port town" for Roman trade in the 1st century AD.

Merci, my friend, I have had enough history for a single day. Now am off to meet the cops.

Poirot walked into the police station nearby. He was shown the post mortem report which clearly showed Francois Martin had been knifed by multiple people. Poirot had a good look at the shapes and sizes of the cuts inflicted, he agreed with the police that at least there were four people if not more who were involved in this brutal murder of a French nobleman. He then checked the plastic bag containing some knives and other items recovered by the cops for a long time and then a smile appeared on his face.

Merci…I am hungry now. The investigation can wait but not my food.

The man once again took to his feet and walked through the heavily crowded boulevard next to the Rock Beach, saw the statues of Gandhi and Nehru, before entering the Coromandel Café at La Maison Rose.This pink-coloured villa on Romain Rolland Street was once the home of a French judge. Poirot had heard a lot about this exotic place and wanted to enjoy some good food, some Indian and some French, with the finest wine. He spoke to one of the waiters and ordered a crispy prawn starter and fillet steaks and beef tenderloin for the main course. He loved the ambience and the food and the wine collection truly surprised him. No wonder this place ranked among the best restaurants of the world. He spoke to the person serving for some time, tipped him handsomely before leaving for the consulate.

Next morning Monsieur Poirot woke up early, got into his comfortable running shoes and clothes and refused to eat the food served at the consulate. Instead, he checked his map and started following the narrow streets of the French town before reaching 123 Bussy Street where he looked up at the board and smiled...Baker Street, French Delicacies Concept Store. He looked at the counter with varieties of croissants, cakes and pastries kept tastefully. The man could not hide his happiness as he started chatting with the man behind the counter in French. By the time the talk ended, the man had put strawberry pie, chocolate eclairs, baguette, muffin and quiche on a tray before ordering for cold coffee. A swipe of the credit card was all he needed before relishing the delicacies. The other people in the store were all looking at the strange man who seemed to have an insatiable appetite and was relishing every morsel.

Aurobindo Ashram

With his tank full, Poirot now explored the French town, the colourful houses, carved doors and narrow streets. The paintings on the walls of the houses were eye catching. He stopped at various points to read the names of houses, streets, public buildings, banks written in French- Petit Palais, Bibliotheque Publique, Pompiers de Puducherry, Rue Dumas, Banque de l’Inde- the detective smiled and said to himself c’est incroyable!  His first stop was the famed Aurobindo Ashram where he reluctantly took off his shoes and switched off his mobile before entering the sacred space. Under a big tree was a floral decoration on what appeared to be the final resting place of Shree Aurobindo. He saw a number of people going down on their knees, and with closed eyes and folded hands saying their prayers. After taking a round of the cemetery, a large section of people would go and find a place nearby to sit down and meditate. Poirot, too, sat like the others but soon realized that his mind was busy thinking about Martin’s murder, the plot and the perpetrators. He stood up and walked around the book store before going out of the ashram. The ashram appeared huge from the exterior but only a very small part was kept open for visitors, which Poirot found slightly disappointing.

Notre Dame Des Anges- 1738

After walking around the place that was crowded with tourists, most of whom were either making videos, taking pictures of themselves standing before the doors and wall motifs of the heritage houses or were busy chatting on their mobiles continuously. In search for some peace, Poirot went to the Rock Beach again and he stood there for a long time admiring the white sands and the blue sea. He wanted to go to the place where the waves crashed against the rocks but the policemen stationed were very alert and started blowing their whistle like the referee on a football pitch…. that’s a foul…stop!

Monsieur Poirot, Stop!

It was now almost lunch time and the detective needed another round of some special dish that Puducherry had to offer. He knew the next destination on his food voyage… Villa Shanti on Rue Suffren. The name sounded very Indian but Poirot knew the food served there was genuinely authentic French. He took the best seat in the centre of the courtyard under the shade of the trees with the sun blazing down. He was quite enjoying the sunny weather at a time when most of Europe was enveloped in a complete cover of snow. He ordered for a round of red wine and for food, as usual, he went overboard with a roasted fish with ratatouille, grilled beef tenderloin and chicken risotto. While ordering, he spoke at length with the floor manager there, possibly to give him an idea of how he preferred the dishes to be prepared. Don’t ask how, but the man devoured every bit of the food served till the last bite and the other guests and people serving were all in awe. Once again, he tipped the person well and walked out wiping his mouth with his silk handkerchief.

Villa Shanti

Poirot never slept in the afternoon and so he booked a cab and went off to see Auroville which was quite some distance away. After getting off the cab, he followed the walking trail to the golden globe like structure called the Matri Mandir which he saw from almost half a kilometre away. He felt cheated somewhat for he thought he would see a wonderful village full of people, living a peaceful life of meditation and spiritualism. Fortunately, he was given a lift to the pick-up point in a bus which saved him the trouble of doing the long walk back. On his way back, he stopped at the Aurovillie Bakery and Café for some hot coffee, croissant and cake and he also picked up a few varieties of cheese from the store nearby.

Matri Mandir

Serenity Beach

He ended the day by going to the windy Serenity Beach where he enjoyed a round of peace and tranquility as he saw the sun go down. He sat there on the black rocks, thinking about the mystery he had come to solve. He now had a clear picture of the case which meant that he could now go back to the room after another sumptuous meal and sleep well. For a change, Poirot went to a place that was on the outskirts of the heritage town and was serving drinks more than the food. This was Catamaran Brewing Co which looked quite dark and had loud music playing. He was in a celebratory mood tonight and called for the taster set of six beers…all different and unique. With that he called for two local starters, a plate of burnt garlic prawns and barbequed bacon wrapped chicken sausages. On reaching home, the happy detective sent out messages to a host of people he had met at Pondy.

Catamaran Brewing Co

Next morning, Poirot reached the Chunnambar Boat Club well in time and asked his driver and the crew of the boat he had chartered to unload and shift the champagne bottles and food packets from his car to the waiting boat. Slowly a crowd of twenty odd people arrived, all had a surprised look on their faces when the detective spoke up… Thank you all for coming at such a short notice. Since I will be flying back home later tonight, I wanted to thank you all for all the hospitality extended during my stay in this place that is ranked among the top three travel destinations by Lonely Planet. And of course, I will also tell you about the murder I had come to investigate, a case that I have now cracked.

Chunnambar River

People were startled at his last announcement and started looking at each other, who could be the murderer among them. They were even more worried that they saw in their midst a couple of cops with their funny red top including Inspector Selvan whom the locals feared. But now there was no going back and they boarded the finest boat on the jetty that Poirot had hired for the picnic and one that fluttered both Indian and French flags. As the boat started to slowly surge ahead and picked up speed, a few waiters appeared who went around handing the guests glasses of best champagne that had been flown in from France by the famous detective. With a glass in hand, Poirot now took the centre-stage and rang a bell to catch everyone’s attention.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make and am requesting Inspector Selvan to come beside me. I will be calling out four names, each of them should step ahead for they are responsible for my coming here. May I also warn these four people not to make any attempts at escaping as Inspector Selvan has his cop, disguised as tourists, in the other boats in the river around you.  And now here goes the list… Sukumaran from Coromandel Café, Jean of Baker Street, Jackie from Auroville Bakery and Café and Govindan from Villa Shanti…

The four men reluctantly came forward and each one of them repeatedly said that they did not know anyone called Francois Martin, leave alone murdering him. Inspector Selvan and his two men made a circle around the four named convicts with their hands, when Poirot started laughing aloud.

Don’t worry gentlemen, you are all safe. Francois Martin was the first Governor of French East India Company in 1673 and yes, he is long dead. I came here because the French chefs in Paris had complained that the chefs of Pondicherry were giving French cuisine a bad name. They connected with the local French consulate and sent me here to investigate if anyone was not cooking French food in the authentic traditional way. Those people should be warned and their establishments closed. The so-called forensic evidence bag contained nothing but items of food and cutlery from these four famous eateries here. I must, however, confess that I have tasted food in many French colonies of the world but the food the four chefs serve is amongst the best. I apologise for my hiding the true reasons of my visit and on behalf of all the Michelin Star Chefs of Paris, I am extending an invitation to Sukumaran, Jean, Jackie and Govindan on a seven-night all expenses paid stay in Paris. Congratulations and now enjoy the Paradise Beach.

Paradise Beach

SS

NB. All names used at fictitious.

Mahakumbh

The other night I downed a double Patiala peg neat and walked up to my one and only wife to, finally, say something that I had been holding back for many a month…. I want to go to the Mahakumbh at Prayagraj and want you to accompany me.

What followed was a stampede where the casualty was of one poor soul, that is me.  Here’s some censored and edited extracts of the fateful night.

Why do you want to go to Mahakumbh?

I want to take a dip there.

Dip…did you say dip? Do you know that your financial portfolio has taken its biggest dip? You’re in deep sh*t! Do you know the airfare from Mumbai to Prayagraj is fifty thousand one way? You are willing to blow away a lakh of money on airfare alone to take a dip. That is ok with you, but when I ask you to buy me a Kanjeevaram from Nalli’s, your face takes a dip and suddenly you remember all the outstanding payments.  Anyway, do you really have to go there for the dip? Have the seven lakes surrounding Mumbai dried up and you don’t have enough water coming from the shower that you have to go so far for a dip?

I did not know which question to answer first. I therefore took the path that I felt would pave the way for my departure easy and smooth and said that the BMC water at home cleanses my body but I want to cleanse my soul. The water of River Ganga is the holiest of all waters of the world and a dip there during Mahakumbh will surely help to turn over a new leaf, a new clean and good chapter in my life.

Oh, a new and changed man is what you want to become. And what do you plan to do after that because if you surely do change by becoming an honest insurance claims consultant who will no longer make money from getting the wrongful claims settled, then you will be a misfit in this current role. Maybe, you have plan to join one of the Akharas of sadhus and babas post the dip.

Having to fight every night in the akhara at home with this one almighty pehelwan who surely must have genetic connection with the famous Phogat sisters. She not just beats me but thrashes me just like the dhobis do while washing away the dirt from heavy clothes… scrub… heave..splash and bang on the stone slab till I beg for mercy. Yes, she is right, why not go to the Sangam and after the holy bath, become an ascetic, join one of the Naga akharas and never return home. But how could I say all this to her at such a juncture, so I just stood meekly and smiled sheepishly.

So, you think what I am saying is funny…your smile says it all. You will go there and join Kinnar Akhara because Mamta Kulkarni has signed up there. You think she will sing and dance for you there under some waterfall and you will keep seeing her as you saw Mandakini in the Raj Kapoor movie. Do you realise how easily you will get caught being a peeping Tom with just leaves to cover your vitals? They will make a kinnar out of you in no time.

I think you are going beyond the limits of civility. Please control yourself.

Control…I should control myself…or what? And why do you want me to accompany you? You are hoping that I will get lost in the crowds there. Forget it. Yogi ji has made perfect arrangements this time. He has said not one Ram-Shyam and Karan-Arjun scene will get repeated. Everyone going there is being given QR codes, RIFD enabled wristbands and digital ‘lost and found’ camps to reunite people who accidentally or intentionally get lost.

Neither for Mamta’s sake and nor for any personal gain but I have come to conclude that it is now time for me to take sanyas. I have seen brahmacharya and then grihastya ashrams. Lately, I have also experienced vanaprastha ashram as well and so it is logical that I now go into the last stage of cycle of life early. Who knows when the next Kumbha happens after twelve yeasr, you may find me riding into the mela placed atop an elephant with a trishul in one hand and ash smeared all over my face and body?

So now I know why our house gave out a strange smell whenever I returned from outside, leaving you alone. You have been smoking hashish behind my back and planning for this encounter with me…haan…I will in no time bring you out of this narcotic spell and illusion of living a spiritual life away from home in a world where I do not exist…

Are you out of your mind? I have not even smoked a cigarette and you are accusing me of smoking hash! How could you even think like that? Chhi chhi!

Oh, so it is my thinking which is gross and what about this nut head of yours that keeps throwing up insane ideas and you start jumping without thinking about us? You want to become a sadhu baba… and where do you suppose you will go and live?

I will go where the other sadhus go…maybe deep into the jungle or even atop mountains. I will adopt their way of life.

You can’t stay one meal without meat or fish and you want me to believe that you will roam from place to place and survive on fruits and vegetables?

The big akharas have their big ashrams which have kitchens and they have benefactors who fund them for their activities.

Have you already given away your pension fund in favour of the akharas? I am sure that you would have parted with your monies and are planning to run away from here leaving us with empty bank balances and to fend for ourselves on a day to day basis.

I have not done anything of this sort. In fact, I have made my will and signed off everything thing in your sole name. I will not be taking my wallet or my credit card.

Will you leave behind your PAN and Aadhar card as well?

Yes, for I will have no use for them in the new life. I will get a new name and identity which will bear no resemblance to my current name, look and address that is there on my Aadhar card. Since I will have no taxable income, my PAN can be thrown into the Mithi River. I will get to live a bindaas life, singing bhajans in praise of Bhole Baba and dancing to the tune of the damru.

Quite a transformation, I must say, from Chole Bhature to Bhole Baba! You cannot walk five minutes barefoot on the lawn outside and  from now on you will  move around bare foot, singing and dancing….my foot! Just see the number of shoes you have…you could put Imelda Marcos to shame and now you wish to renounce everything and become a dancing minstrel.

Believe me, I have thought through this for almost a year since my superannuation and I wish to follow my heart now. I have done all my duty both at work and home and now is the time to be myself.

Will you be carrying your mobile phone with you, just in case we need to speak to you for something?

No, I will not carry the phone. That is one more reason why I wish to go away from this world of WhatsApp, FB and Insta. I am hooked on to these for hours together and there is no way I seem to get free from these worldly clutches. This will be my salvation from Moh, Maya and Mobile.

Meanwhile, a last piece of warning… do you know how cold the water there will be? You need the geyser even in Mumbai summers and are now willing to take a plunge into freezing cold water at Mahakumbh.

The Lord will give me the strength.

Will he also give you Dolo?

Who needs Dolo…just chant Bhamm Bhamm Bolo and all your pains and ailments will vanish.

Will you be coming to sign your life certificates every year or else all your pension and annuities will go abegging?

Hmmm…had not thought of that…what else could be a problem? I shall bequeath them all to you before I leave.

Your passport comes up for renewal. I have heard the big sadhus are invited overseas quite frequently.

Oops…that’s true. But surely, I will soon have supernatural powers to fly away to any place without passport and visa.

How will you watch Man U matches in the jungle?

That’s not a problem because they have been playing badly for many years now and whenever I watch, they lose. Maybe, my going away and not watching them play will do them some good.

Ok, since you are so determined to go and lead the life of a sanyasi, I will let you go but remember once you step outside the Lakshman Rekha of this house, your entry will be banned forever. 

Bhamm Bhamm Bhole!

SS

NB. Pictures courtesy internet 

Po Chennai Po!

The Last Bastion

In ancient India, the Mauryan empire spread across the length and the breadth of the country. Similar were the medieval Indian empires under the Mughals and the Marathas. Only the southern portion of the country remained elusive to these great empires of the past. Possibly, the British hold over the entire country was an exception. Around the 10^th and 11^thcentury AD, there was a dynasty that ruled in the eastern part of the country, the Sena Dynasty which held sway over Bengal, Bihar and Odisha. The Senas have now re-surfaced in the 20^th   and 21st century AD and have over the last four decades hoisted their flags over all the five geographical segments of the country. In the East, their flag can be seen in Kolkata, Delhi in the North, Mumbai in the West, Hyderabad in the central part and now finally with their landing in Chennai in the South, this dynasty of Senas, Baba Sen, Mama Sen and Baby Sen, with no connection to the erstwhile ruling class ten centuries ago, can be said to have conquered the country with their Sensibilities. 

Before their landing on this last bastion, they had heard from a lot of people that Chennai is dull and boring as compared to the livelier outposts of Mumbai and Delhi.  The Senas began exploring the new-found land and found to their utter dismay the ignorance and apathy of the opinion givers they had met earlier. They saw and experienced the city, its people and the vibrancy and have got enamored by its beauty and culture. Here’s a glimpse of what they saw recently and by the end of the two weeks, a friend texted, you’ve become a Chennai-wala now….and I said…Yes, happy to be one.

Booksville 

Many, many years ago when most of us used to travel by trains, we would pick up a magazine or two from the railway stations. Apart from the name Indian Railways, there were two names you would not miss…AH Wheeler in the North, West and the East and Higginbothams in the South. These two book sellers had stalls in every station and every platform. Times have changed and so have the reading habits of people. It was sad to see the Wheeler stalls at Mumbai stations selling Haldiram’s sev and Britannia biscuits instead of books, magazines and newspapers. When we saw the majestic building of Higginbothams in Chennai, we were determined to visit this historic place. And so we did and came to know that this is the oldest bookstore in the entire country. Books of all genre are spread over a massive twin storied hall where my better half could not stop from going from shelf to shelf. She, finally, picked up beautiful hardbound editions of The Iliad and The Odyssey and a couple of other books. In all the excitement of being in a grand historic book store, she had forgotten that the Homer classics were already there at her Kolkata home, bought long ago at the Calcutta Book Fair. 

If the illustrious book store visit was not enough, we landed ourselves at the 48^th Chennai Book Fair. The crowds at the venue were huge and the number of stalls put up by local and international publishers was heartening. With unique stall like the one on Van Gogh and another on Cinema, this place was throbbing with children and their parents, youngsters in groups as well as oldies scanning the pages before buying. We, too, walked into a few of the larger stalls selling English books and once more picked up a couple of books that we had missed picking up at Higginbothams.

Beauty of the Blooms

Chennai in early January is a pleasant city with a cool breeze blowing and the mild sun gently caressing your back. It was a good time to go to Shemmozi Poonga to see the 4^th Chennai Annual Flower Show. It was indeed a spectacular sight of flowers big and small, bright and brighter covering the garden beds. From the entrance, the place was tastefully decorated and the floral models of cars, railway wagon, insects and animals made the spectators pose for the perfect selfies and family shots.

Musically yours

Come December, Chennai dons a festive, almost spiritual air. This is Margazhi season (16^th December to 13^th January)— a month devoted to music, dance, devotion, and the delicate art of kolams. This is the time of the year when people from all over the world come together to listen to music played at various sabhas. Apart from the music, the sabhas or auditoriums have arrangements for a good spread of food served by well-known caterers which attract not just the music lovers but the foodies, many of whom jump from one venue to another to enjoy the food and often giving the music a miss. Having landed on 28^th December, late in the evening, we were told that the musical programmes get over by the 31^st and thereafter it is time for the dance performances. We felt slightly disappointed for a moment but someone up there seemed to have intervened and we could book ourselves to a musical by Sanjay Subramanian at the R.R. Sabha. We landed well before the show time and saw the ladies elegantly decked up in some of the finest Kanjeevarams and silk salwar suits and despite having eaten breakfast at home, we had a round of vada and filter coffee. The music concert lasted almost for four hours and we, the duo, who had no prior exposure to Carnatic music live performance, were completely mesmerized by the singing of this Rockstar classical vocalist who sang effortlessly and his intermittent jugalbandi with the mridangam and violin were a treat to watch and listen. We came out and had a round of tamarind and lemon rice plus a plate of kesar bhaat. Treat after treat!

Checkmate

Chennai is the Chess capital of the country with a regular flow of champions being produced here including world champions Gukesh and Vishwanathan Anand. While enjoying the musical, we had a family of four sitting next to us. The elder son, who sat adjacent to my seat, was musically inclined and was tapping his hand in sync with the maestro on the stage. The younger one, no more than four or five years, was completely oblivious to the musical performance on the stage. Instead, he sat on the lap of his father who pulled out some sheets of paper and I saw the duo playing on the sheets with pencil. On closer scrutiny, I saw that the bunch of sheets were from 64 Square Chess Academy and the youngster was practising his moves on some fixed situations. If this was not a good enough explanation for Chennai’s love for chess, while walking on the streets of this beautiful city, you will find the zebra crossings painted like chess boards. It seems chess runs in the blood and sinews of this city.

Aqeedat: Love, Divinity and Dance

Finally, we wrapped up our Charming Chennai trip with a visit to The Musical Academy with two dance performances. One was a colourful and brilliantly choreographed Bharatnatyam by Shijith Nambiar and Parvathy Menon, and the second was a Kathak performance by Divya Goswami. While the Bharatanatyam performance was dazzling in colour, elegance and perfection personified, the Kathak main performance was the rendition of the love story of Fazal Shah’s Sohni-Mahiwal and at times we were listening more to the heavenly singing by Siddharth Balmennu despite the dancer putting up a beautiful and graceful show. 

There is still so much more to explore and write about, the beaches, the street food and the nearby getaways...but those are for another day. Wishing all our readers, a Happy 2025 and Happy Pongal. 

SS

Dinpanah

I had reconciled to the fact that soon I will have to voluntarily renounce my post-graduation degree and be content with my academic qualification being downgraded to BA History Honours.  Firstly, I did not earn this degree in the rightful manner. Having attended a mere six classes in two years of post-graduation and clearing sixteen sets of question papers by just glancing through the tutorials given by friends a night before every examination. But, then I suppose, this was quite normal in Delhi University. The more important reason was the recent revelations in many parts of the country by the new-age erudite scholars who are busy changing historical facts in Medieval Indian History, which happens to be my area of specialisation.

It was at that moment, when a fatwa was issued by a close friend of mine during our recent visit to Delhi. He said, “You will not leave Delhi without visiting Humayun’s Tomb and the underground museum opened recently there, thanks to the wonderful work done by Aga Khan Trust, ASI and other Indian corporates.” And so, on a bright sunny December morning, we landed at Humayun’s Tomb and bought tickets for the famed mausoleum and the museum. A walk around this place made me pause and rekindled hope and love for the glorious life and times in Medieval India. Sharing some of the highlights of the visit based on the monuments seen there and the quotes from some of plaques in the beautifully curated museum.

Humayun's tomb (Maqbara-i Humayun) was commissioned by Humayun's first wife, Empress Hamida Banu Begum in 1558 and completed in 1572, with the patronage of Emperor Akbar and was designed by Persian architects Mirak Mirza Ghiyas and his son, Sayyid Muhammad. The tomb is a precursor to the Taj Mahal. It stands on a platform of 12000 mts and reaches a height of 47 mts. The complex encompasses the main tomb of Emperor Humayun, which houses the graves of Empress Hamida Banu Begum, and also Dara Shikoh, great-great-grandson of Humayun and son of the later Emperor Shah Jahan, as well as numerous other subsequent Mughals. In all, there are over 100 graves within the entire complex earning it the name "Dormitory of the Mughals".

The main tomb was placed at the centre of a 30-acre Charbagh, a Persian-style garden with a quadrilateral layout. It was the first of its kind in South Asia on such a scale and the plaque describing the significance states…"A ‘hasht-bihisht’ meaning ‘eight heavens’ in Persian was a geometric plan for gardens, pavilions and mausoleums consisting of a central square, divided into nine sections. It also represented the astrological concept of eight planets corresponding to eight heavens. Akbar envisioned a paradise garden on earth as his father’s final resting place. The essence and beauty of this Chaharbagh is its spiritual importance as a symbol of paradise; through geometry, flowing water and life itself. The garden is divided by four channels of flowing water representing the four rivers of Quranic Paradise. The river Yamuna to the East gave access to boats to directly disembark at the garden. The Mughal royals cherished their time in the gardens conducting court, entertaining, meeting with family and friends.”

Humayun’s Tomb stands in an extremely significant archaeological setting, centred at the Shrine of the 14th century Sufi Saint, Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya whom he revered and he also set up his fort Dinpanah at what is now known as Purana Qila. The city of Delhi has since developed over the centuries with this shrine as the focal point. The museum has a replica of the Sufi Saint’s final resting place and a plaque there burst a myth of old. Everyone quotes Jehangir on what he said about Kashmir that, “If there is a Paradise on Earth, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here.” I learnt that these immortal lines were actually penned by Amir Khusrau, many centuries ago, as a tribute to Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia, who lived in this area.

“The dome of Humayun’s mausoleum is crowned by a majestic gilded copper finial. The finial is an exemplar of the incredible scientific achievement in metallurgy of Hindustani craftsmen. Inspired by the Hindu and Jain temples, the grandeur of the six-meter-tall finial is of a design and scale not seen before. It is also said to have served as a lightning conductor. Following the damage to the finial in 2014, an exact replica was restored to the dome. This required a 22 feet log of teak, especially manufactured copper sheets of 99.4% percent purity, the application of eight layers of gold leaf- and, the most challenging effort to fix the finial at a 50-meter height atop the dome. The conservation of the damaged finial was achieved after a two-year effort by 10th generation coppersmiths using traditional hand tools. The repaired finial still retains gold leaf.”

Another interesting fusion seen was the six-pointed star which was significant to Humayun, who first used them prominently on gateways of his citadel of Dinpanah in Delhi. The six-pointed star is known as ‘Shatkona’ in Hinduism, and the ‘Star of David’ in Jewish religion. At Humayun’s mausoleum they are the most prominent ornamentation – seen on the spandrels of the arches of the gateways and mausoleum; and those on the principal arches includes a lotus bud in the centre. 

Emperor Humayun was greatly influenced by astronomy and much progress was made in this science during his time. There are on display seven bronze figures of Humayun wearing colours of the Planetary Lord of each day of the week: Moon (white) on Monday, Mars (red) on Tuesday, Mercury (blue/purple) on Wednesday, Jupiter (beige) on Thursday, Venus (green) on Friday, Saturn (black) on Saturday and Sun (yellow) on Sunday.

Another plaque told us about the story of Nizam, the water carrier. “After the defeat by Sher Shah, Humayun nearly drowned while fording the river Ganga at Chausa. Weighed down by his heavy armour, Humayun was rescued from drowning `by a water carrier named Nizam. In gratitude, Humayun respectfully referred to him as ‘Nizam Auliya’ and to show his gratitude, made the unprecedented gesture of allowing him to sit on the throne of Hindustan for a day. This revolutionary act of generosity by Humayun was contrary to the strict norms of social order.”

There is one plaque in the museum containing the letter that informed Akbar of Humayun’s fall, which led to his demise, written on 24th January, 1556. It stated…"We went up to the roof of the library…and there we held interviews until the evening prayer. When it was time for the evening prayer and we were in a hurry to get down, we had gone a few steps down the stone staircase…when the call for the prayer was given. We wanted to sit down and as we were in the act if sitting, our royal foot caught in the hem of our fur coat and we rolled down the stairs to the bottom…”

It will take any visitor an entire day if he were to do justice to this entire complex containing multiple tombs, museum and a massive garden complex known as Sunder Nursery. Since, we did not have the luxury of time, we gave the garden a miss and apart from the main mausoleum of Humayun, visited Isa Khan’s Tomb and mosque. Isa Khan Niyazi was a noble in the court of Sher Shah Suri. The octagonal tomb is positioned within an octagonal garden, which was built during his own lifetime and the reign of Islam Shah Suri, son of Sher Shah. It later served as a burial place for the entire family of Isa Khan. On the western side of the tomb lies a three-bay wide mosque, in red sandstone. 

Standing outside the boundary of the mausoleum complex is the impressive tomb known as Sabz Burj. This tomb bears no date but its architectural styles with its ornamental tile work is possibly Timurid and similar to octagonal structures seen across Central Asia. As with Humayun’s Tomb, Sabz Burj has a double dome with the outer dome and the tall drum covered with blue tiles. Some historians attribute this monument to have been built by Humayun in memory of his mother.

After Humayun and Akbar, can Shahjahan be far behind? I asked the cab driver to take us to Old Delhi or Shahjahanabad’s famous eatery of Karim’s. The driver did not know about the place, so I guided him to a place not far from Jama Masjid and then took a toto, an electric autorickshaw, that took almost twenty minutes to reach the spot after meandering through a heavily crowded street which has infinite number of stalls making fresh barbeque….no wonder the address is Gali Kababian. Karim Hotel was established in 1913 and this original place is a must go for all foodies. The place is simple and has the old-world charm but the food is finger licking. We were spoilt for choice and finally narrowed down to Mutton Burra Kebab and Seekh Kebab for starters, and Nalli Nihari with Sheermal (sweet bread) and Roti. I am very sure, the re-writers of history will not claim this Mughlai food to be theirs!

Our next destination was Khan Market and, fortunately, this had nothing to do with the Khans of Medieval Indian history. This is a large and upmarket shopping place named after Khan Abdul Jabbar Khan who was also known as Khan Sahib and was the elder brother of Frontier Gandhi, Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan, but lately is in the news, again for the wrong reasons, and some elites who visit here are categorized as the Khan Market Gang. My family just wanted to take a look at the place and we walked into a shop selling shoes. While they were talking to the salesman, I walked up to the man at the counter and asked…Is Richard Lee there? The man asked, as to why I was looking for Richard and I said, we were in school together. He gave a shout and a man in glasses walked in from the back door…that was my kindergarten buddy Richard Lee. I met him after almost half a century and took a picture with him and aptly named it, the ‘Real Khan Market Gang!’
Finally, we managed to reach the airport well in time and called up my fatwa issuing buddy. “We did all that you asked us to and more.” He was delighted and added another chapter of my personal history, “Your mother used to make the best Mughlai Parantha and that was a real treat during school days”…and so my Mughlai connection continues as I am once again proud of my academic qualifications in Medieval Indian History.

SS