Freedom at midnight

It was quite late night. I think it must be around 3 am. If you go by old Delhi's orthodox mindset, women are not allowed to venture out that late. But I was a trifle puzzled to see young and the old, clad in dark but expensive burqas returning in a group after attending a marriage reception.

Most weddings in Delhi take place in the weekends. These are considered to be the expensive weddings of Delhi. People in Quraish Nagar are wealthy businessmen and they don't mind spending a little more to flaunt their wealth.

Quraish Nagar residents are not so liberal in the strict sense. When I saw these women, I was amazed. Young, petite beauties with only their eyes visible from the hizab walking. You could see the glint in their eyes. They giggled and laughed as they walked down the empty lane. Freedom at midnight? I'm not sure. But from their soft demeanour and lighthearted talks it became clear that they really enjoyed their night out without male companions.

During my three-year stay at old Delhi, I've seen these women step out late in the night and mostly in the weekends to attend marriage functions. I was unable to fathom about this odd timing. I used to fall back on Zaki, the caretaker of the house. "It is like this only. Marriages take place quite late in old Delhi. So most of the jenanas would reach late at the functions, gossip and then have their food," he quipped.

Zaki, 35, has been staying in this house at Idgah Road since 1986. So he may know a lot more about Quraish Nagar residents than me. Short, clad in a lungi, Zaki would always opened the door for me at late night. But he used to give me a frown look. I'm sure he used to hate me for waking him up at that late. He would murmur. But surprisingly, soon he became used to my erratic journalistic schedule.

Zaki came from Dharbhanga district in Bihar as a cheap labourer in the mid-eighties. But he soon ended up looking after this small room at Idgah Road after his employer found him to be honest and dedicated at his work. His change of duty meant that he was destined to enjoy all the luxuries in life: less work, more rest. No wonder then without his owners' absence (who mostly stayed in Lucknow), it became a sort of luxury for Zaki whose favourite past time was to lit a Howrah bidi and then switch on the 14" b/w TV.

Dilli hai Dilwaalon ki

Delhi looked super clean, glossy. The empty roads during the CWG reminded me of the photographs of pre-independece India. There were some breathing space because of less crowd. Buses ran smoothly. No dhakka-dhukki. Tolerable cops. Understanding citizens. In fact, Delhi presented a calm and composed picture. During my daily drive down to the Yamuna Sports Complex in east Delhi, I was elated to observe the sudden change in their etiquette's. Polite. Law abiding and above all who wanted to put up a clean image of the city which till then was battling with controversies. But then everything became so smooth. At the Connaught Place, I felt like I was at London's Trafalgar Square. The filth and dirt was gone. I could smell the fresh paint from its lofty pillars.

Lutyen's Delhi was brimming with confidence as it got its new identity courtesy CWG. Suddenly the so-called 'rudest and aggressive' Indian city as portrayed by outsiders outstretched its arms with love, respect and affection. Now we have a reason to shut those who crib about Delhi. It's high time that must crack jokes about a city where they have been raising their kids.

Believe me, Delhi is different. Unmatched with other Indian cities who haven't had to face torturous attacks by a Nadir Shah invasion or witnessed the Partition horror. Famously known for its tenacity, Delhi fought back to host one of the most successful international sporting events in India.

DTC bus to ITO, Barakhamba

I didn't come to the city to be a historian. I left Calcutta to find a job. My journalistic journey had taken me to India's capital city. It was a difficult decision but a quick one. Because I wanted a job to survive. So from Idgah Road residence my quest for job began.

Initial days were really tough. I used to wake up with dialects which has now made famous by Bollywood. But to hear kids (brothers, father to son, among friends) exchange expletives early in the morning was a bit of a shock for me. In the beginning, those words petrified me. Having originated from a city known for its rich culture, I was slightly got dejected. But later somebody explained me that people of Quraish Nagar are not that filthy as they are made out of. The words (expletives) they speak are a part of their life. "So don't take it seriously," said one of my well-wishers. So, gradually the Purana Dilli dialect and the expletives became a part of my life too. I didn't find it too obscene or abusive in what the locals spoke.

A walk down the Sadar Thana rickshaw stand and then to the Paharganj bus stand would become my daily routine. I always preferred the DTC as it would never stop at unwanted places and would reach Barakhamba in quick time. Locating the media offices at Barakhamba, KG Marg and then at ITO became my routine work.

Quraish Nagar, the meat industry

Much later after I had settled down at Idgah residence, I came to realise the importance of Delhi 6. Most outsiders never knew 'Delhi 6' till the Abhishek Bachchan starrer movie in 2009.

The tonga left me in the heart of Delhi 6. Idgah, Sadar Bazar are the two extreme points of Delhi 6 which touches New Delhi. Idgah, where my home would be for the next three years in the Capital, has never been explored by any historian. Idgah (place where the Id namaz is offered) is a historical monument built by Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. It is an imposing structure. The area is inhabited by meat merchants who are known as Qureshis. Hence the area gets its name Quraishnagar or Kashapura.

Predominantly a Muslim area, it is different from the rest of the Muslim localities of Delhi. People are rich and don't be surprised if you spot a Sedan or the latest model of Mercedes. Most families are engaged in meat exports. Most of them have their outlets in the posh Khan Market, INA Market and in south Delhi. They are the kings of meat industry.

But 13 years later, their hegemony is now threatened. The Idgah slaughterhouse was sealed and hundreds gathered at the Shahi Idgah round about to express their discontent. The two-century-old abattoir, which has provided a means of livelihood to thousands down the ages, is now replaced with a high-tech slaughterhouse situated at Ghazipur in East Delhi.

Tempers started soaring in the afternoon, as dozens of small meat traders and distributors based in the Paharganj and Karol Bagh started gathering at the ancient prayer-grounds to protest against being uprooted from their means of livelihood.
Shahbaz Khan, a meat vendor from Karol Bagh said, "I used to save some money because the transportation cost from the slaughterhouse to my shop was negligible."

"The mandi at Ghazipur is much, much smaller than this one. How will it accommodate so many workers?" asked Mohammad Mubarik, a meat vendor in Paharganj.

Tonga ride, circa 1996

First November, 1996. It was early morning and we could feel the nip in the air as Janta Express reached Kanpur. Passengers pulled out their shawls and blankets from their luggages as it began to get colder. But before we could slip into a cosy sleep inside the train, announcements were made through the barely audible speakers of Indian Railways. "Janta Express won't go further. Passengers travelling to Delhi may deboard the train and take a connecting train."

It was a frustrating experience because most of us had struggled to get tickets during the puja rush from Calcutta. True to its name, Janta Express served the janta (people). It virtually halted at every stations in Bihar (Jharkhand didn't exist then). It was running behind schedule. Finally, when it reached Kanpur, the railway authorities cancelled its route to Delhi.

There was commotion after of the announcement. "Gomti Express from Lucknow will come at 7. All Delhi bound passengers are requested to board the," said a hassled ticket examiner on the platform.

Once the train entered Kanpur junction, there was maddening rush get inside. All because of a seat. Luckily, I managed a window seat.

The train finally reached its destination at 3 pm.

Old Delhi station was as crowded then as it's today. Tongas, three-wheelers, cycle-rickshaws jostled for space.

"Room chahiye, accha room milega," touts, deputed by the local budgeted hotels, chased me. "Nahin chahiye," I said and walked away.

I steered clear of the crowd at the exit and hopped onto the rear seat of a tonga. "Idgah jana hai," I told its owner.

The horse looked fit and healthy. It galloped and pulled away from the station. It was a smooth and wonderful ride. It pierced through the thick station area and then the busiest Sadar Bazar. From the tonga, the view of the sprawling Sadar Bazar, one of Asia's biggest wholesale market, was simply outstanding.

The tonga reached Idgah Road. It was to be my address in Delhi for the next three years.