Atop the bald.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

How is it like to sit on a bald head?

You may find the answer in a Delhi monument.

The “munda” in the name of Munda Gumbad means bald, and this stone pavilion gets such an unusual name because of its disappeared dome.

The monument is no city secret, but neither is it well known. May be because it has the misfortune of being in a locality that is rich with far more important moments. The centuries-old edifice lies inside south Delhi’s Deer Park, and stands on the flattened top of a grassy mound. The mound overlooks a smelly lake. The other side of the lake faces the far more picturesque monuments of Hauz Khas Village, which include the grand tomb of Emperor Feroz Shah Tughlaq.

On an earlier visit to Munda Gumbad, the path to the roof was barred with tree branches, ostensibly to prevent access to the upper section of the monument. This evening, the staircase is free of obstructions. No signage around that might prohibit from taking up the steep stone stairs that conclude quickly at the top of Munda Gumbad. The roof up here is a bed of jagged stones (don’t be barefoot!). One of the four corners is taken over by two men. The next corner has a man with mobile. The corner next to him has a monkey without mobile. The final corner is deserted.

The roof is high enough to let you simultaneously see places in the park that could not have been seen at the same time while walking along the park pathways. For instance, the restless ducks paddling in the restful lake, along with the distant bench lying vacant under the beautiful mango tree. On a less smoggy day, you may see as far as the Airbnbs of Hauz Khas Village. Most panoramic is obviously the view of the grassy slopes atop which the monument stands. For a long time, an elderly Gandhian would sit daily at the base of these slopes, his back towards the Munda Gumbad, as he would silently weave khadi fabric on his little charkha. He would always be dressed in white kurta and dhoti, both made of the khadi fabric that he had made himself. Musaddi Lal Gupta was claimed by the second wave of Covid-19.

The other sad thing about the setting is the state of Munda Gumbad’s roof. It is littered with material souvenirs of Delhi’s civic discourtesies: empty chips packs, cigarette stubs, tobacco sachets, and shards of broken beer bottles.

Meanwhile, as the evening deepens, and the chill in the October air intensifies, the three men leave the roof. The monkey too is gone. Munda Gumbad starts to feel truly bald, or munda.