Eyes in the Dark Lanes of Old Delhi

One night, much later, I witnessed a scene that stayed with me.

It must have been around 3 am. By Old Delhi’s orthodox mindset, women were not expected to venture out at such an hour. 

The lanes were quiet, the shops shuttered, and the streetlights cast long, uneven shadows on the road.

Yet I noticed a group of women—young and old—walking together, returning from a wedding reception. They were clad in dark but elegant burqas, the fabric unmistakably expensive. 

They moved confidently, chatting softly among themselves, unhurried and unafraid.

For a moment, it challenged my own assumptions about Old Delhi—about tradition, restriction, and the quiet spaces where customs bend without announcing themselves.

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.

The residents of Quraish Nagar are not liberal in the strict sense of the word. That was why the sight amazed me.

Young, petite women walked together, their faces covered, only their eyes visible beneath their hijabs. There was a glint in those eyes—alive, expressive. As they moved down the empty lane, they giggled and laughed, their voices soft but unrestrained.

Freedom at midnight? I wasn’t sure how to define it. Yet from their gentle confidence and light-hearted conversations, it was clear they were enjoying the rare pleasure of the night—together, unaccompanied, and at ease, 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.