North India - Day 6

Jaipur / Delhi / Home – Day 6

20 February 2026 

We left Jaipur at approximately 5.15 am. We stopped at Hawa Mahal to take pictures of the building when it was still dark, with colourful lights brightening up the windows, quite pretty. Along the way there was fog that I had never seen before in my life – visibility was only a few feet, and I was so glad it was not me driving. We stopped for breakfast at about 8 am, where I had a cup of coffee and kachori – something resembling a small stuffed poori, quite nice and spicy, with tomato and mint chutney.

 

We arrived in Delhi at about 11 am, and went straight to the Red Fort. Commissioned in 1638 by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan (the same ruler who built the Taj Mahal), the Red Fort became the main residence of the Mughal emperors when the capital shifted from Agra to Shahjahanabad (Old Delhi). Constructed of massive red sandstone walls stretching over two kilometres, it was less a fort in the military sense and more a self-contained royal city.

 

As we entered the fort, we passed through a bazaar area, this is known as the Chhatta Chowk which means a covered bazaar. According to the notice board, Shah Jahan was inspired by a covered bazaar he saw in Peshawar in 1646 (now in Pakistan). The Chhatta Chowk contains 32 arched bays that served as shops, just as they do today (mainly selling souvenirs). In Shah Jahan’s time, there were shops on both the upper and lower levels, selling silk, brocades, velvet, gold, silver, jewellery and gems.

 

Behind this once lay a world of refinement: marble pavilions inlaid with semi-precious stones, flowing water channels known as the Nahr-i-Behisht (“Stream of Paradise”), perfumed gardens, and halls of dazzling ceremony. The Naubat Khana (drum house) stands at the entrance of the palatial complex. In its days of glory, musicians from the Naubat Khana announced the arrival of the Emperor or other prominent dignitaries at the court of the public audience. Music was played five times a day at chosen hours.

 

The Diwan-i-Aam (Hall of Public Audience) was where the emperor addressed petitions from his subjects. The Diwan-i-Khas (Hall of Private Audience) was more intimate – and once housed the legendary Peacock Throne, later carried off during Persian invasions. Inscribed on its walls was a line that has echoed through history: “If there be a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.”

 

There is also a mosque here, known as Moti Masjid, or the Pearl Mosque. It was built by Aurangzeb for his personal use. It would take him just a short walk from his bed chamber to reach the sacred place of worship at various times of the day or night. The mosque was also used by the ladies of the seraglio (harem) who entered through a passage in the northern wall of the enclosure.

 

The fort remained the seat of Mughal power until 1857, when the last emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, was deposed by the British after the Indian Rebellion. From then on, the Red Fort shifted from imperial residence to colonial military stronghold – and later, to a symbol of Indian nationhood.

 

Today, every year on India’s Independence Day, the Prime Minister addresses the nation from its ramparts, a powerful transformation of meaning: from Mughal sovereignty to colonial control to independent republic. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Red Fort stands not merely as architecture, but as layered history in stone – empire, conquest, decline, and rebirth.

 

About a kilometre away from the Red Fort, through bustling roadside vendors, rises the Jama Masjid – vast, commanding, and quietly magnificent. Commissioned in 1650 by Shah Jahan and completed in 1656, it was intended to be the principal mosque of his new capital, Shahjahanabad. Its very name means “Friday Mosque,” the congregational mosque where the faithful gather for the main weekly prayers. There are four entrances to the mosque, and we were actually to enter by the main entrance where we had to pay an entrance fee, but Jeetu cleverly entered by another entrance, for free 😊

 

Built of red sandstone and white marble, the mosque sits atop a high plinth, reached by broad flights of steps that seem to prepare one, gradually, for stillness. Three great domes striped in marble crown the prayer hall, and two slender minarets rise over 40 metres into the Delhi sky. From their balconies, the city unfolds in every direction – Old Delhi’s rooftops, tangled lanes, and the distant modern skyline beyond.

 

The courtyard is immense, capable of holding more than 20,000 worshippers at a time. And yet, despite its scale, the space feels ordered rather than overwhelming. The rhythmic arches, the cool stone beneath bare feet, the precise geometry of its design – all express the Mughal love of proportion and symmetry.

 

Inside, the mihrab marks the direction of Mecca, and delicate calligraphy adorns the walls. Like much Mughal architecture, the Jama Masjid embodies both spiritual devotion and imperial authority: it was a place of worship, certainly, but also a declaration of cultural confidence at the height of Mughal power.

 

On the walk back we stopped to drink sugar cane juice, which tasted suspiciously sourish. And there was another mosque – the Sunehri Masjid, built in 1751 AD by Qudsiya Begum, mistress of Muhammad Shah and mother of Ahmad Shah, and repaired in 1852 AD by Bahadur Shah II.

 

The last place we stopped at was the Raj Ghat: Gandhi Samadhi. It was here that Mahatma Gandhi was cremated on 31 January 1948, a day after his martyrdom. A memorial was built here to pay homage to him, which is a black marble platform left open to the sky. On the one side in the centre an eternal flame burns, and on the other side the last alleged utterances of Gandhi – ‘Hey Ram’ (Oh God) is inscribed. 

Lunch – I had fish tikka and a beer, and it was good. And then we took a slow drive to the airport. 

I said goodbye to Jeetu, to Delhi, to India. 

Till we meet again… perhaps.