Jama Masjid, December 04, 2008

After a lovely coffee with a friend of a friend (thank you, Archana), the kids and I headed off to see Jama Masjid – India’s largest mosque. (And quite the safe place to tour, according to our driver, Roop, who commented: when do you ever hear of an Islamic Mosque being bombed? !? )

“An exquisite Islamic statement in red sandstone and marble” (according to Fodor), the Jama Masjid was the last monument commissioned by Shah Jahan.

The mosque is in crazy busy Old Delhi, whose windy little streets are chockfull of everything under the sun. From far above it must look like an ant colony, there’s so much hustle and bustle. Tons of rickshaw drivers &market shops, a few dogs thrown in, a bunch of goats being led somewhere (Roop said they were en route to be sacrificed by Muslims, then eaten. Sometimes I do wonder how much I misinterpret…of course, it would also not surprise me if they were being led off to holy slaughter. That does sound a little nicer than just butchered, I guess?)

Ok, so after I asked if the Muslims ate them, I asked Roop if he ate goat. Wherein he said “Mutton? Oh yes it’s very good.” I then realized that I’ve been eating plenty of goat, as I assumed mutton referred to lamb. Well no complaints, it tasted pretty good.

Aside from goats, bikes, beggars, builders, marketers, tourists, shoppers, police, horse carts, autos etc. we saw our first Hindi funeral procession. Claire glanced over at a body, draped in bright red cloth with orange garlands decorating it, being carried through Old Delhi atop what looked like a cot by a handful of men. She immediately knew what it was (how is that kids can identify death so readily? Must be innate.) I think singing was accompanying the procession but with all the noise (and with us in the car) I’m really not sure if I made that up or if was really happening.

After ditching the car Roop walked us to the entrance of the Jama Masjid, which was completed in 1656 after six years of work by 5,000 laborers.

Featuring a mix of Hindu and Islamic architecture, the dome is onion-shaped, has three gateways, four towers and two minarets.

The closet in the North gate of the mosque contains a collection of Muhammad's relics - the Quran written on deerskin, a red beard-hair of the prophet, his sandals and his footprint, embedded in a marble slab, all of which are still preserved. It is said that the walls of the mosque were tilted at a certain angle so that at the time of an earthquake, the walls do not collapse in the courtyard but outwards.

The courtyard can hold up to twenty-five thousand worshippers. The eastern gate of the mosque was the royal entrance and it has 35 steps. These steps used to house food stalls, shops and street entertainers. In the evening, the eastern side of the mosque was converted into a bazaar for poultry.

The south minaret is open to tourists, so we purchased tickets. (By the way, we were fleeced 4 times entry on the way through this mosque…first to come in, then to traverse up narrow, ancient steps in a tiny space to check out the view, then to use a camera for said view, then to pay someone for watching our shoes. The last one was a bit fishy but at that point, why not one more donation? I seem to recall similar experiences at those lovely European cathedrals…)

I am quite proud of Claire; she led the way up that winding little staircase with some trepidation, was quite the trooper. Ava, whom I carried (I’ve decided she now must weigh 60 pounds – well that’s a bit of an exaggeration but by the time we got to the top of the tower – 41 meters -- it certainly felt that way). Her commentary was: boy this is a tough climb. (Tough for who?!?)

What a great experience – breathtaking view, which we shared scrunched up next to Indians, UK’ers and Koreans. (There was very little landing and we had to hug the side so as not to step back into the stairwell, which of course has no railing.)

I spied a few men sporting plaid “skirts” (foreigners) and at first I thought maybe they were making a pilgrimage to the place, clad in some kind of symbolic attire. Silly me…they’d come in shorts so had to cover up for respectful entry into the place.

In the courtyard people were gathered here and there, several women in traditional Muslim attire, many kids playing around the fountain. A woman was feeding the numerous pigeons that seem to call the Mosque home. A few prayed in various corners of the Mosque, while others gathered to eat and converse.

I was struck by the majesty of the building and its view; set on a hillside, it overlooks that bustling Old Delhi scene we meandered through. Well worth the visit!