Begumpur surrealism.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Delhi is overloaded with mammoth grounds. An exceptional ground—arguably the city’s most picturesque—mostly lies deserted.

It happens to be the sprawling courtyard of a historic edifice. Begumpur Masjid is located in the village of the same name. The village is in south Delhi, very close to the IIT flyover. You climb the mosque’s steep stone stairs, enter the gigantic gateway, and… ooh la la! The sky-filled courtyard snaps out at the unsuspecting visitor, silencing one into awe.

Although larger grounds exist in the city, this ground is unusually grand. Maybe because it lies within a congested neighbourhood, making the open space feel more singular. The ground additionally gives a suggestion of hardiness and antiquity—being flanked by massive stone arcades, bruised by the stress of centuries.

This overcast afternoon, the air in the courtyard is trembling with bird chatter, the birds themselves invisible. While the uneven stone floor is littered with pigeon feathers, pebbles, broken glass, beedi stubs, bottle caps, and an uncommonly graceful boulder. (The boulder is exuding a secretive life of its own, as if it were the cursed Ahalya of Ramayan, waiting for the divine touch that would restore her to human form.)

A significant souvenir of Delhi’s Tughlak period, Begumpur Masjid was the Jama Masjid of its time. The Friday congregation of praying Muslims would assembly in this courtyard. No longer used as a mosque, the 14th century monument is today ringed by modern multistories. Indeed, at one point during this visit, the rugged stone walls abruptly ring with a man’s laughter. Somebody in one of these surrounding concretes happened to chuckle. The innocent sound bounced out of his window, falling directly into the monument’s empty vastness. The instant the sound hit the stones, the private chuckle got amplified into a resounding echo for all to hear.

The mosque is otherwise distinguished by the plentifulness of its domes—more than 60. That said, the defunct prayer hall makes a sad scenery of dilapidation and loss. Parts of the domed ceiling are missing. The airy voids in the ceiling are enabling the daylight to trespass into the solemn darkness of the interiors. Consequently, a sense of irreversible ruin lingers. Shattered stones, mutilated masonry, and time existing like Dilli ki akhiri shama, Delhi’s one livid last flame.

A more solemn spectacle is of the adjoining stone arch. It stands bandaged by a supporting structure of modern-day bricks. The old arch must have been on the verge of collapse, rescued for now. The sight is super-surreal.