Someone calling out my name, a tap on the shoulder. I turn around and see that it’s Farrukh Bhai, complete with wife and kid. Now I haven’t seen Farrukh Bhai in ages – last I remember it was around the time his kid was a toddler, and now he looked like a kid who was completely aware of his surroundings. I’m thinking he must be five now.
Farrukh Bhai happens to be quite distantly related in some way too, the sort where you keep racking your brains over which chacha or phuphi came first or was that someone got married to their khala or mamu, and still never figure out the answer to it, even if that was the only question which Munkar and Nakir were to ask you once you entered the grave. But that’s definitely not why anyone would remember a distant lost cousin (or uncle, I still don’t remember). I remember him for his shrill hearty laugh which used to resound through the entire corridor in the university hostel. Yes, he used to be my senior at university, same faculty too. Then as it happens post graduation, moving out, job hunting, cross country bashing about – he got married in the meantime to a cousin sister, quite a soft spoken, good looking girl (the tall, fair, heavily kohled big eyes sort) who also happened to pursuing a doctorate in Biotechnology, if I remember well from IIT. So a well settled family life, the kind of content peaceful existence most of us would aspire for, and I just felt happy for him seeing him then.
What did strike me as a bit unusual was the setting in which he met me. After all, there were like a million people around (well, not a million, but then definitely some thousand odd) and let alone space to move around, there was hardly any space to rest your butt in peace. Thursdays at Dargahs happen to be that way, and if it is the tomb of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya, then you can expect throng upon throng of people from all walks of life, all social stratas, all religious beliefs, all possible racial denominations – be it a group of Caucasians looking about a bit confused to try and partake in the custom of breaking the fast, to sharply featured Afghan women who could compete well with some of the best made up actresses featuring in any of those TV soaps, to that sombre looking African possibly taking a break from the embassy he works at – you can find everyone there. And everybody makes space for everybody else. In fact, a friend of mine – who has a self proclaimed aversion for places of worship – did mention that it was nice to note the way in which the locals weren’t exactly harassing any visitors – be it local or foreign – and though I am sure there must still be those stray incidents where someone gets ripped, like I said, they would be stray.
The area around Nizamuddin Dargah happens to be a ghetto too (yeah yeah, I know, but didn’t I say in my last post that ghettos are nice?), though the ghetto confines itself to the immediate surroundings of the Dargah. As you would move a bit further, the ghetto gives way to swank bungalows with their occupants having enough cars parked outside on the street that regular two way traffic becomes much of an impossibility at times. Move further away, and across the road around the area where Humayun’s Tomb is situated, and the bungalows become swankier, the cars become sleeker, and you don’t really see the residents of the locality – only their domestic helps, and their well pedigreed pets being taken for a walk. Yes, Delhi has some stark contrasts when it comes to them. Or if you happen to notice them.
After Iftar – which was the closest to Sunnah till now, 2 dates and fluids – I skipped out to avoid the exit rush. Sneaked up quickly to good ol’ Ghalib Kababchi, where the coals on the barbecue were just about starting to give out an orange glow. Perfect timing. I couldn’t trace Farrukh Bhai after that – in telecom lingo (and yes, it was the phone companies who screwed up too), some connections are just supposed to be had for as long as the network exists, push it any further and the phone company just starts handing out cross connections.
Till then, you just wait for that tap on the shoulder and that face in the crowd.
***
Random observation: Usually most mosques, dargahs, essentially places of worship attached to Islam happen to have a fair mix of people (amongst those asking for help) who are blind as well. My friend who was accompanying me happened to notice this and mentioned that he has never noticed any blind outside a church, and possibly temples too. Well he did go to church fairly regularly, at least till the time he was young enough for his mum to twist his ears if he didn’t, so I think that must be a fair observation. What I wanted to ask was, is this actually the case? How many of us have actually paid attention to this? And if so, why would it be so?