To Grant a Wish

The alleys wound like a serpent through the dust and chaos that can be Delhi. We walked along the path, like pilgrims, asking along the way: “Dargah kahan heh?” Which way to the Dargah? Passing kiosks and salesmen selling blessed flowers, sweets, religious posters, artwork, and food, we wandered through the ever-narrowing lanes. We neared the end, taking off our shoes as you do at any sacred or historic site in India and stepped through a medieval archway and into a scene from the last millennium.

People from all walks of life were scattered throughout the courtyard: praying, meditating, or chatting quietly. We were met by a guide who explained the different tombs and monuments: the domed marble tomb of Amir Khusrau, Nizamuddin’s devotee and a Sufi poet, constructed in 1605 and the tomb of Nizamuddin Aulia, a Sufi Saint and the reason we were there. Between the two tombs were situated a few more graves: Jehanara, the daughter of Shah Jehan (who built the Taj Mahal), and Emperor Mohammad Shah. As we were directed into Nizamuddin’s tomb (women to the outside as only men can enter the inner sanctum), we were handed pieces of thread. It is said that as you tie a thread to the marble jali (screen), you make a wish which Nizamuddin will grant.

As we were quietly reflecting, another man came to us recognizing my mother’s Muslim heritage and blessed her in Urdu, a long unused reminder of her tradition. As we walked through the Dargah, she told us parts of the history of Nizamuddin and how her wish had unquestionably been granted.

We walked past the tombs and down a few more alleys to an ancient step-well (baoli). Legend has it that when Nizamuddin began to build the baoli during the reign Sultan Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq in the 1300s, the Sultan refused to allow workers to help on the build. Nizamuddin prophesied then that the new Tughlaq fort would be inhabited by nomads and eventually left to ruins, yet the Dargah would be still be standing many hundreds of years later. Now some seven hundred years later, Tughlaqabad is certainly in ruins and, Nizamuddin’s Dargah is still visited by hundreds of thousands of pilgrims annually.

Sufism is, in its essence, the way of love. Walking through this truly holy place with my mother and brother was one of the most moving experiences I had in India. The true beauty of the Dargah is the sanctuary that it offers to the homeless. As you leave, you are given the opportunity to feed the homeless. For what we would consider pennies, we were able to give those in need a meal – and for me, it didn’t seem like nearly enough.