Chapter 4 - Qutab Minar

Almost as soon as I re-entered the hotel, breakfast was brought to our room. We had pre-ordered a light Indian breakfast of masala omelette, toast and masala chai tea. The food quickly disappeared and we found ourselves back in the hotel lobby in anticipation of beginning our day of touring around Old Delhi. We didn’t wait long for the guide and his driver for the day. Climbing inside the small car, we bumped across the parking lot passing a small group of cows which had come to investigate the rubbish hill. As we passed, one man was offering a small amount of food to one of the cows. Ah, yes, this is the country of the holy cow. Turning the corner we passed a horse drawn wagon that was all decorated in bright colours and tinsel. Pointing it out as I took a photo, our guide told us that it was a marriage wagon, used in traditional wedding ceremonies.

My camera was kept busy as we drove down various roads. I was struck by the sharp contrasts of modern and ancient, of wealth and poverty. Large expanses of real estate were set aside for military purposes such as officers clubs for various different groups. Then crowded onto a roadside hill were shacks festooned with laundry hanging to dry with children oozing out of every nook and cranny of the dilapidated structures they had for homes.

Our destination was called Qutab Minar. As we approached our destination, our guide, a tall elegant man who had a gentle aspect, began to talk to us about the history of the ruins we were to be visiting. I have to confess that I didn’t listen very well, not because I couldn’t hear him, but because my mind was still racing from all that I had seen en route. I knew that I could find out all about the ruins later by using the Internet. My partner became the listener and asked questions to keep the stories coming.

I don’t know what it is about ruins that capture my attention. Perhaps it is decay that mourns for a time long gone. Perhaps it is the silence that lets one know that previously voices had been heard here, that lives had been lived here. Ruins are like magnets pulling one to trespass and to enter into a different space, a different time, a different way of being. Barely had our car stopped when I was out wandering taking photo after photo trying to capture some of what my imagination was sensing.

Of course, we weren’t alone at the Qutab Minar. However, we were the only obvious foreigners present. Thankfully we didn’t become the tourist attraction like we had experienced as we travelled in China. Perhaps the ruins were powerful enough to keep the attention of all who wandered through broken buildings and stone littered fields. One powerful site was an incomplete minar, or tower. The unfinished testament tells a story of unfulfilled hopes and dreams.

It was curious to note that many of those present were young, likely university students. Here and there throughout the grounds I could see them sitting quietly with books on the grass or in sunny corners leaning against a stone wall. Finally, one of them, a young woman had the courage to approach my partner, hoping for a photograph opportunity with the two of them together. Strange, it always works this way no matter where we find ourselves. There is something magic about my partner that draws others to be near her. Somehow, others unconsciously believe that to share a moment with her, to be photographed with her is a portal into good luck.

A final walk through the grounds with a final few photos taken took us back to our waiting car. It was time to visit our next destination, the Jama Masjid.