A Walk through Mehrauli

Surabhi Sanghi, Class of 2020

Two weeks into the semester and we were already feeling the need for a break from all the academic pressure. That was when the Ashoka History Society took us to Mehrauli, on a trip back in time. Our guide for the day was the ever enthusiastic Professor Pratyay Nath, who showed us around the Qutub complex, Gandhak ki baoli, and Qutubuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki’s dargah.

We first went to explore the Qutub complex, which houses several important structures apart from the Qutub Minar. The Qutub complex holds the memories of the Rajputs that ruled the lands of Delhi and the subsequent Turkic Afghan Sultans who formed the Delhi Sultanate. It boasts elaborate and intricate designs on the arches on one hand, and the rugged tomb of Alauddin Khilji on the other.

Prof. Nath enthusiastically explained the difference between a true dome and arch. His insights into the meaning of the architecture were a true delight; the Qutub complex held age-old secrets within its structural amalgamations of sandstone and marble. A simple observation of the architecture was enough to reveal much about the rulers and the period to which they belonged.

From the Qutub complex, we started walking towards Gandhak ki Baoli which was about half a kilometre from there. A baoli is a stepwell, often created in areas that don’t have easy and direct access to fresh water. This baoli once supplied water to the holy tomb of the revered Sufi Saint Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki and its inhabitants, thriving as a beautiful stepwell in the medieval times. Today, the baoli is a sad sight to look at. Ignored and unkempt, this little wonder, located in the middle of the posh area of South Delhi, is on the verge of crumbling to dust.

From there, we went to the tomb and dargah of Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki. It was a busy afternoon, with the traffic a complete chaos. Our stomachs growled because we could smell the delicacies of the streets of Delhi being made and served, but we continued to move on. We even stumbled upon the tomb of Adam Khan, Akbar’s foster brother, but didn’t get a chance to visit it.

Although narrow and chaotic, the lanes retained the charm of years gone by. When we reached the dargah, Qawwali greeted us to spill over the memories of another world into our present. There is perhaps a magical quality to Delhi not found anywhere else. It is a town steeped in a past that demands to be heard over the honking of the cars and cries of the hawkers. Here, it is tempting to get lost in the story of just one of its many by-lanes. Fortunately, we had Prof. Nath to remind us about the existence of Ashoka; he couldn’t stop worrying about how he hadn’t prepared anything for his class the next day.