Our Indian friends in America were horrified:
No, you don’t want to stay anywhere near Old Delhi. It’s filthy, crowded, and poor, and foreigners aren’t welcome. Cancel immediately and change to New Delhi! Many beautiful hotels there around Connaught Circle. Many foreigners! Everyone speaking English!
But even after Covid, the hotel had no intention of refunding anything, so when we came out of the Delhi train station to the chaos of the taxi stands, we gave the address of our supposedly classic establishment in the old town. Blank stares all around turned into fingers stabbing at phone maps and fierce arguments in Hindi among the drivers. Finally, another driver pulled up and shouted (we assumed) that he knew exactly where we wanted to go.
A good half-hour later, with the roads steadily shrinking and the potholes and foot traffic blossoming, our driver leapt out of the car (to cries of consternation all around) and consulted a crowd of street food vendors. This is it, he said and pointed into the mouth of a dark, 6-foot-wide alley with pedestrians streaming in and out. This is what? Down there, and take a right. Down where?
The driver settled it by planting our carry-ons on the pavement and repeatedly pointing into the alley. Finally, we paid him (I take you to Taj Mahal tomorrow, yes? Meet right here!) and set off into the night.
For some obscure reason, a predicament that would have horrified us in any other country on earth (including America) only mildly terrified us that night in India. But the alley seemed to go on forever, and when we came to the end, gave way to an even darker and more obscure lane.
Push carts and mopeds prodded us along, until we spotted a brightly lit stone entrance platform with an imitation Mughal footman staring down at the crowds. The minute he spotted us, the footman rushed down, ripped the luggage out of our hands, and led us up into what would soon become one of our favorite hotels in the world.
Thus our arrival at the Haveli Dharmapura in Chandni Chowk of Old Delhi, the only place in Delhi we will ever stay
Delhi is huge—massive—gargantuan—the second largest city in the world after Tokyo. You don’t visit Delhi per se—in a week, you might invade a tiny piece of it. Even on that small island of your experience, you’ll miss more than you catch.
The ancient city started to gather before 400BC and has played host over the centuries to Mamluk, Mughal, Persian, Afghan, Maratha, and British dynasties. No matter your interests—history, archeology, politics, the arts, or simple shopping—Delhi is a cornucopia that overflows with more variety and complexity than you can imagine.
The epicenter of the ancient Mughal capital was the Red Fort, a sprawling, intimidating complex in red sandstone on the Yamuna River. In order to service their courtiers, the Mughals laid out a mile-long thoroughfare from the Fort to the Jama Masjid Mosque and lined it with 1,600 markets and boutiques.
Today, Chandni Chowk has expanded into a neighborhood with thousands of restaurants and food stalls alone. In addition, there are entire alleyways and markets that specialize in electronics, plumbing, spices, saris, bridal gowns, greeting cards, books, leather goods, and anything else you can imagine. At night, the crowds tend to dwindle, but only by Chandni Chowk standards—during the day, this is one of the busiest, most crowded neighborhoods on earth.
And of course, no one speaks a word of English.
When we checked in, we were led to a room off a grand courtyard and handed a cup of chai—warm, sweet, black tea—and a paper kite imprinted with our name. A kite? Yes, because Old Delhi is famous for the kite-flying and kite-fighting from its thousands of rooftops. On special days, the kites blossom into billowing clouds that obscure the sun, but on any given afternoon, there is more than enough room for novices like us to show off our skills.
No thank you. But when we ascended the next day, we watched a minor battle between a pair of boys from distant rooftops while marveling at the variety of life laid out around us. From the austere, smog-obscured colors of the Red Fort to the minarets of the Jama Masjid, to the washing, cooking, snacking, and dozing women at work or rest around us—life in Old Delhi moves at a seductive, deliberate rhythm that never pauses for breath.
The foot distances in Chandni Chowk can be a bit daunting, if only because of the daytime heat of winter, so we finally gave in to the charms of the Tuk Tuk, the rickety bicycle rickshaw that substitutes for cars in the narrow lanes of the neighborhood.
We watched an Indian girl negotiate the price of her ride with a handful of operators before climbing in, and adopted the practice. It was a bit disconcerting to realize that we western travelers were haggling over a difference of 200 rupees (for tourists) vs 100 rupees (for locals)—$2.40 vs $1.20—but the operators expected the conversation and responded.
Which was how we met Wassim. Apparently, he’d given us a ride the day before, one of many. So as we wandered by a stand on our way to lunch, there were sudden cries of "Mommy! Mommy!" We turned to find Wassim at the center of a cheerful group of 20 drivers and chums, grinning and waving at Glinda.
Wassim spoke a version of English, a first for us in the Chowk, but more importantly, he knew every driver and vendor in every minor alley and business. He was an endless font of information, in fact, and took particular care to watch out for Mommy’s welfare in the two days we spent with him. Best of all, he knew how to find anything we wanted to see and never badgered us with the usual tourist traps and goods his relatives might have had on offer. The lesson being: Once you find your perfect Tuk Tuk driver, stick with him. You’ll both be much happier.
During the Mughal Empire, when the development of Chandni Chowk was at least theoretically regulated, the Emperor ceded plots to his closest advisors to build themselves mini-palaces outside the Red Fort. At one time, there were eight of these Havelis, each constructed around a central, open-air courtyard with three or four levels of rooms and suites below a roof court.
The 19th-century Dharmapura where we stayed is the only Haveli fully restored and open to the public, as a 5-star hotel and restaurant. Like all of the grander structures of the district, it is indistinguishable from its neighbors on the outside, with a wall around the roof to conceal its beautiful court and dining area.
One odd feature of the Dharmapura‘s top floor is a fragile, wrought-iron spiral staircase that rises to a door—of another, enclosed staircase that heads straight down to the lower floors. But from the tiny platform at the top, you can watch the entire old city buzzing in all directions, with the minor din from the alleyways as a pleasant soundtrack. It is a movie that never grows old.
As it did for all of India and Pakistan, the 1947 Partition brought a massive and wrenching movement of humanity in and out of Delhi. A half-million Hindus and Sikhs arrived from the Punjab, while a half-million Muslims fled for their lives. The anger and confusion of that schism bubbles even today just beneath the surface and has caused riots and confrontations as recently as 2022. But by a miracle of the British Empire—or of the Indian temperament—or maybe a little of both—that irritation is rarely directed at westerners like us.
We heartily recommend running from the slightest hint of trouble—whatever you do, you want no truck with the justice system here or in any foreign country—but security isn’t something you have to wonder about 24 hours a day in this fundamentally friendly city.
Nevertheless, as a test of sorts, we decided to take an auto rickshaw over to the British-built Connaught Circle where we’d been assured that westerners would feel more comfortable. And from the instant we arrived, we were assaulted by non-stop beggars, hawkers, and scam artists looking to do us the favor of our lives. We barely lasted a half-hour before making our escape in a traditional Tuk Tuk with a Chandni Chowk native—who knew exactly where we wanted to go.
That Chandni Chowk resident had an interesting story of his own. Much older and grayer than the typical operator, he in fact looked like the professor he had once been. His father had driven, and so had he (on the side), but he only drove now as an excuse to hang out with his two driving sons.
All three spoke excellent English, which gave us our first opportunity to grill them about subjects that required more than rudimentary translation. Like his father, our driver was a Congress voter out of loyalty to the party of Nehru and the Gandhis that had liberated India. His sons were much too modern for all that and firm supporters of the Hindu party, the BJP. So we inadvertently sparked a debate—which they thankfully carried on in English for our benefit—and watched one of the great delights of India unfold.
Which is that India is a democratic, highly literate country full of strong, but mostly restrained, opinions, in transition from extremes of poverty to extremes of world-class wealth and productivity. We saw this in the photos Wassim proudly showed us of his young, straight-A students in their sparkling school uniforms. There is a creative optimism about this country and its people that has seen it through all manner of catastrophe. Today, that spirit remains thoroughly healthy—and contagious. It’s all the reason we need to keep returning.
We’ve written at length about India, its cuisine, and our experiences there. Some articles you might find interesting:
Sacred Cows and Curries (06/22/2022)—Dining in and out in India
2,779 Miles in 76 Hours (06/26/2024)—Riding the Indian Rails from Mumbai to Delhi to Chennai to Mysore to Bangalore
O Soul, Thou Art at Rest (09/22/2023)—What Makes the Taj Mahal a Wonder of the World?
Kashmiri Rogan Josh (08/23/2022)—Iconic Dishes We Occasionally Mangle
The Thing About Mumbai (12/02/2022)—The Most Civilized Havoc on Earth
The Spices of Life (12/01/2023)—Iconic Blends We’ve Adopted From Around the World
Some of my own questions got answered here - like why were you staying in Chandni Chowk - a place I have never been myself despite living 40+ years in New Delhi :)
All said and done, chandni chowk and Old Delhi as a whole was called an unequaled paradise once.
It was the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan who said of (Old now) Delhi:
If there is heaven on earth
It is this, it is this, it is this!
I have no idea when and how the decline began. I have read books by British residents as well praising the beauty of the place during the British rule. As far as I remember their descriptions, it was not so crowded, full of greenery, cultured locals but famous for bazaars even then.