Last day in Delhi

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We were up early to beat the crowds to Humayun's Tomb. We arrived there at 845am and there was no-one there but the sweepers busily brushing the leaves off the grass. We walked through the western gate and down an avenue of trees through the gardens, the low sun slanting through the trees and the early morning mist.

Five years ago we saw the Tomb in cold slanting rain. This time we could appreciate it in all its glory. A beautiful Persian design sculpted in red sandstone and white and black marble seen under the early morning sun under a clear blue sky. It is positioned in the middle of a classic square charbagh garden complete with water running in channels, all reflecting the Moghul's Islamic representation of Paradise on earth. The tomb complex is still undergoing a massive renovation project part funded by the Aga Khan foundation and the benefit of that shows.

The design on the tomb was directed by Emperor Humayun himself but completed by his wife Hamida. He died prematurely in 1556, of which more later. Many other Moghul princes and family members who died after Humayun are also buried in the tomb, with their cenotaphs in various side chambers. In the Moghul fashion the actual tombs are in the basement below that you cannot access.

Humayun's tomb also witnessed dramatic scenes following the suppression of the Indian Mutiny in 1857. The siege and relief of Delhi had been particularly brutal and bloody and the British were incensed by the number of murdered and mutilated Western women and children they had found. They had already resolved the pack off the old and enfeebled last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah, off to exile in Burma. His three sons were cornered in Humayun's tomb and though they had surrendered to the British they were summarily executed there. The Mughal rule of India was over.

We set off back to the car and told Pramod we were going in search of the Sandar garden. This is a huge formal garden in the course of being laid out in the Mughal style with plants they would have favoured. We had some difficulty finding the entrance. We followed one route through a car park and Sara was mounting a large mound to get a look over a wall to see if the garden was on the other side. Movement caught David's eye. “Sara, get down off there, now.” She thinks he is being over protective. “Uh?” “I SAID GET OFF THERE NOW THERE IS A F***ING GREAT RAT THREE FEET FROM YOU”. She moves smartly without further urging. She had unwittingly clambered on top of a rat warren that was about five feet and ten feet across riddled with holes where they lived. One had come out to inspect her and possible give her a rabid bite. He was a big lad too, at least nine inches long excluding his tail.

We eventually found the entrance. “No visitors sorry”. However seeing that we were no ordinary visitors and never normally seeing anyone asking to come in, the chowkidar relented graciously and let us in. The whole garden is vast, and is pretty spectacular already. After a pleasant stroll we return through the gate to curious stares from the staff. The English, they were probably muttering.

Off to the Purana Qila. One of the great historical sites of Delhi but it might as well be on the moon as far as the Delhi wallahs are concerned. No one knows where it is but we eventually find it. There are no Western tourists, but large numbers of local courting couples. This is clearly the place to come to avoid prying parents. The Purana Qila was the “new city” that Humayun started to build after he came to the throne in 1530 on the death of his father Babur. Humayun lost the throne in 1540 following two momentous battles with Sher Shah, a rebellious Afghani warlord and son of a horse trader who had held a fiefdom on Bengal. Sher Shah ruled until 1545 when he was killed fighting the Rajputs and his squabbling successors ruled until 1555 when Humayun returned to reclaim the throne. He has spent the previous fifteen years wandering through Afghanistan and Persia. He has spent time as a guest of Shah Tamasp of Persia to whom he had given the Koh-i-Noor diamond as a token of his appreciation. Eventually having seen off his own three rebellious brothers who all resented him being the Emperor Elect (one being killed in battle, one being sent off on the Haj and the really naughty one being blinded by having hot needles stuck in his eyeballs), he was able to return to Hindustan. The clans flocked to him and he defeated the heirs of Sher Shah and reclaimed the throne.

However, his triumph was short lived as eight month later he fell down the stairs of the Sher Mandal in the Purana Qila, which was his observatory and library, and died. The fourteen year old Akbar acceded to the throne and began his reign as the greatest Moghul of them all.



Next to the Red Fort. We had low expectations and those were met. Once again, there were few Western tourists, the tour operators having sensibly decided there are better forts to visit in the golden triangle. It is hard to envisage this as once the most magnificent fort in the world. In 1739 it was given a good sacking by the Persian emperor Adil Shah in 1739, who made off with the fabled Peacock Throne. Following that in 1857, as mentioned, the British were pretty upset and destroyed large parts of the Fort, and then built ugly blocks within its precincts. There are a few buildings left along the side which once fronted the glittering Yamuna river but now overlook the thundering ring road. The Indians have made little effort to conserve the interior and it is just now very sad. Anything worth looking it is roped off, so you can’t even appreciate the few buildings of interest that remain. We stayed just as long as it took to take a quick walk round, then staggered back round the outer walls to the car park, which was the best part of a kilometre away but felt like much father in the now stifling midday heat. Pramod is concerned when we tell him we don’t want to go to the Chandi Chowk market, but we opt for the cool of our hotel room for a much needed rest.

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