ANTAL HALMOS

DELHI

Inspite of the great difficulties I was facing in fulfilling my obligations in Delhi, it was an excellent occasion to cast a glimpse at the unusual life of delhiwalas (citizens of Delhi) and at the wonderful architecture of ancient Delhi.

One of the areas I frequently visited in Delhi was Old Delhi, since Chandni Chowk, the main street and the surrounding places were the centre of the bazaar. Shop after shop, streets of certain goods: street of textiles, street of bycicles, street of hand-tools, street of wooden semimanufactured products, street of rubber and street of gold and jewellery. If I wanted the workers to spend every minute of their time in the pavilion, I had to do the purchases for them. Materials, missing tools, pins, eatables, cold drinks used to be on my list.

Besides the huge and hectic crowd, the unimaginable richness of varieties of products there were two phenomena one could not walk by without noticing:

The bazaar was dominated by Muslims. I first was just surprised to see Arab - at the first sight - names, Hassan, Hussein etc. Then the faces seemed to be different from most I had seen at the fair. Later I learnt that a significant part of the population of Delhi was Muslim, far more than in other parts of India and most of them were busily trading.

It was even more interesting that - just a few months after the Russian (Soviet) influence started growing fast - every second-third shop-front was in four languages: Hindi, Urdu, English and Russian. And the shopmen quickly learnt the new language. The city was full of Russians, they proved to be very good buyers, because of the emptiness of shops in the Soviet Union, they purchased not only what they needed for carrying their life in Delhi, but for their future needs after returning home, for their relatives and friends and also for selling Indian goods at home. And they did not bargain much: it was not usual for them. So, politics brought a new layer of buyers for the market and the shopkeepers did not hesitate to learn the language of those who brought them money.

When I reached the end of Chandni Chowk, wide space opened up. The road was running down towards a wide cross-road seemingly far-away and a red wall was seen on the other side, again on quite a distance from the road. I was not sure at that moment that what I saw was the world-famous Red Fort, because my attention was drawn away by the colourful crowd on the left side of the road. A small “Ferris-wheel” could be seen in the middle of the crowd: the whole scene proved to be a fun fair.

As I turned to the right, I saw a big grey building, surrounded by a wall of the same colour. The two tall minarets raising high above the wall made it clear: I was a few hundred meters from a Muslim temple. I was short of time, waved away the thought of visiting Red Fort, walked (oh, no, ran) to the mosque. I had to climb a row of stairs to reach the gate, which I found closed. It was the first time Jama Masjid refused to satisfy my curiosity.

Next time I had to go to do the usual shopping, I made myself free for an hour and went to see Red Fort.

I was lucky: though I had to queue at the cash-box (?!), the visitors were dispersed in the vast interior of the fort, I could have a glimpse of most of the important parts of Red Fort. I spent much more than an hour there, was almost running from sight to sight and guessed the magnificence of this outstanding historical and architectural monument.

Surprise follows surprise during one’s visit to Red Fort, which was completed by Shahjahan, probably the best builder of the whole history of mankind, in 1648. The gate of it is a combination of high and unbelievably wide walls, openings, the last of the structures is a covered passage, which faces the main gateway to the palace. Except the Great Moghuls and their sons everybody had to proceed on foot beyond this point. Only the British broke this rule after the defeat of Indians in 1857 when they made the only serious attempt to get rid of British occupation by way of using arms.

(One remark here: It is said that one of the British commanders asked the great Indian philosopher, Radakrishnan, why do the Indians behave like sheep, rarely protesting against foreign occupation. The wise man’s reply was short: Tell me please, how many lions and how many sheep remained on the Earth? The question of the commander was not without purpose, dough: I am unable to recall the source now, but the figures I quote should be right: during the peak years of British rule the huge country was kept in hands by 22.ooo Britishers, out of which 2ooo were officers and 2o.ooo administrative officials.)

The material that dominates the palaces and other buildings of the fort is marble, pure bright white marble.

The Hall of Public Audience (Diwan-i-Am) must have been fabulous with its white columns, with the royal chamber, an alcove in front of the back wall, panelled with the same marble, studded with precious and semiprecious stones, creating beautiful flower designs. According to descriptions of European travellers, the Great Moghul occupied the throne and the Great Vezir sitting below the throne conveyed the words of the culprit to the Emperor and vice versa. The sentence of the Great Moghul was always executed on the spot. The nobles of the empire stood in the Hall looking downwards and their hands crossed. If anyone made the mistake of lifting his eyes and looking at the Emperor, he sentenced himself to death: his head was cut off. True or not? Both these cruel habits of the greatest of those times emperor were the guide’s tales and they sound interesting.

The Diwan-i-Am was looted in 1857 by British soldiers, complete panels or at least jems taken home (Western culture!).

Even more splendid was the Diwan-i-Khas, or Hall of Private Audience, where the most important meetings with foreign dignitaries took place. Here stood the Peacock Throne that was taken as loot by Nadir Shah to Persia in 1739 and can be seen now in the treasury of ex-Shahinshah of Iran. There is a Persian verse on the wall of this room, having fascinating marble pietra dura-s, which sounds in English:

If there be a paradise on earth,

It is here! It is here! It is here!

It looked like when I saw it, though the Peacock Throne and the solid silver plates once covering the ceiling were missing (and what else not?).