The remarkable Delhi instant.

[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi]

One cold rainy afternoon The Delhi Walla saw an elderly man entering poet Mirza Ghalib’s tomb in Hazrat Nizamuddin Basti.

Ghalib lies buried within a marble cell in the center of a quiet courtyard.

The man was holding a few flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a white shervani and red rumi topi. He had a walking stick of polished wood. His beard was dyed with henna.

“Myself Dr Syed Abbas Muttaqui from Hyderabad,” the man said in Urdu. “I’m coming here for the first time.” Looking on at Ghalib’s grave, he said, “I once wrote a book on him… Maquaise Ghalib. “

The man finally entered the marble chamber. He placed his red roses on the poet’s grave, which was already covered with marigolds and jasmines. He then stood up straight and prayed.

After stepping out into the courtyard, the visitor from Hyderabad sat down on a stone bench and gazed at Ghalib’s grave for a long time. His eyes were wet. It was a beautiful moment.

United with his muse

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