Shahjahanabad A City Of Delhi 1638 1857

Delhi and Its Environs Before 1857: The Account of Ramji Das, Sarishtadar provides a rare description of the city-the alam mein intikhab-where even Lord Indra chose to alight, and this work commands a distinctive place amongst the Persian and Urdu works recorded between the mid-eighteenth and early twentieth centuries. Can history be written through structures? Yes! thought Ramji Das, the newly retired deputy sarishtadar, a great admirer of Saiyid Ahmad Khan and his work, who engaged in a dialogue with the past through the material edifices of Delhi and its neighbourhood. In other words, Ramji Das could not just adhere to the prevalent nineteenth-century ecumene by carrying out a survey of structures, but went beyond this to discuss popular cultures, the administrative divisions and the revenue jurisdiction of Delhi. His account included a knowledgeable scrutiny of water bodies and dams that also defined the undulating topography of the city's geographical regions, the fiscal tight-fistedness of the department of the Collectorate headed by English officials and made a note of some unregistered places of interest. In this annotated translation of the text, Shama Mitra Chenoy brings forth a work about the way Delhi once was.

Commissioned by the English East India Company to write about contemporary nineteenth-century Delhi, Mirza Sangin Beg walked around the city to capture its highly fascinating urban and suburban extravaganza. Laced with epigraphy and fascinating anecdotes, the city as ‘lived experience’ has an overwhelming presence in his work, Sair-ul Manazil. Interestingly, Beg made no attempt to ‘monumentalize’ buildings; instead, he explored them as spaces reflective of the socio-cultural milieu of the times. Delhi in Transition is the first comprehensive English translation of Beg’s work, which was originally published in Persian. It is the only translation to compare the four known versions of Sair-ul Manazil, including the original manuscript located in Berlin, which is being consulted for the first time. Shama Mitra Chenoy’s exhaustive introduction and extensive notes, along with the use of varied styles in the book to indicate the multiple sources of the text, contextualize Beg’s work for the reader and engage him with the debate concerning the different variants of this unique and eclectic work.

No other city in the Indian subcontinent can lay claim to having so many lives as Delhi. This book examines Delhi in the politically and culturally dynamic nineteenth century which was marked midway by the 1857 uprising against British colonial rule as a watershed event. Following British occupation, Delhi became a receptacle for encounters between the centuries-old Mughal traditions and the incoming colonial ideal, producing a traditionalism-modernity binary. Employing the built environment lens, the book traces the architectural trajectory of Delhi as it transitioned from the seventeenth-century Mughal Badshahi Shahar (imperial city) first into a culturally hybrid Dilli-Delhi combine of the pre-uprising era and thereafter into a modern British city following the uprising. This transition is presented via four constructs that draw on the traditionalism-modernity binary of Mughal and British Delhi and include Marhoom Dilli (Dead Delhi); Picturesque Delhi; Baaghi Dilli (Insurgent Delhi) and Tamed Delhi. The book goes beyond the nineteenth century to examine the vestiges of Delhi’s four nineteenth-century lives in the present while making a case for their acknowledgement as a cultural asset that can propel the city’s urban development agenda. By bringing together the city’s past and its present as well as addressing its future, the book can count among its readers not just scholars but also those interested in cities and their evolving landscapes.

This volume features the research of international scholars, whose work addresses the representative history of small cities and urban networking in various parts of the Indian Ocean world in an era of change, allowing them the opportunity to compare approaches, methods, and s...

An original exploration of the relationship between the Mughal emperor and his subjects in the space of the Mughal empire's capital, The King and the People overturns an axiomatic assumption in the history of premodern South Asia: that the urban masses were merely passive objects of rule and remained unable to express collective political aspirations until the coming of colonialism. Set in the Mughal capital of Shahjahanabad (Delhi) from its founding to Nadir Shah's devastating invasion of 1739, this book instead shows how the trends and events in the second half of the seventeenth century inadvertently set the stage for the emergence of the people as actors in a regime which saw them only as the ruled. Drawing on a wealth of sources from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this book is the first comprehensive account of the dynamic relationship between ruling authority and its urban subjects in an era that until recently was seen as one of only decline. By placing ordinary people at the centre of its narrative, this wide-ranging work offers fresh perspectives on imperial sovereignty, on the rise of an urban culture of political satire, and on the place of the practices of faith in the work of everyday politics. It unveils a formerly invisible urban panorama of soldiers and poets, merchants and shoemakers, who lived and died in the shadow of the Red Fort during an era of both dizzying turmoil and heady possibilities. As much an account of politics and ideas as a history of the city and its people, this lively and lucid book will be equally of value for specialists, students, and lay readers interested in the lives and ambitions of the mass of ordinary inhabitants of India's historic capital three hundred years ago.

This book examines how a historic and so-called 'traditional' city quietly evolved into one that was modern in its own terms; in form, use and meaning. Through a focused study of Delhi, the author challenges prevalent assumptions in architecture and urbanism to identify an interpretation of modernism that goes beyond conventional understanding. Part one reflects on transformations and discontinuities in built form and spatial culture and questions accepted notions of the static nature of what is normally referred to as traditional and non-Western architecture. Part two is a critical discussion of Delhi in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, redefining modernism in a way that separates the city's architecture and society from the objectified realm of the exotic whilst acknowledging non-Western ideas of modernity. In the final part the author considers 'indigenous modernities': the irregular, the uneven and the unexpected in what uncritical observers might call a coherent 'traditional' society and built environment.

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring, Will be to arrive where we started, And know the place for the first time’ - Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot The megacity that is today’s Delhi is built upon thick layers of history. For a millennium, Delhi has been at the crossroads of trade, culture, and politics. The stories of its buildings and great historical personalities have been told many times, but this book approaches the past of India’s capital through its literary culture. By focusing on writers and thinkers, we meet a colourful cast of characters only glancingly mentioned in political histories. Many Delhiites are surprised to learn that the language of their city’s cultural heyday was Persian. Despite first being brought to India by invaders, it eventually became an authentically Indian language used in both administration and literature. Although it was cultivated by an elite, it was also a widely available language of aspiration and opportunity, like English today. It connected India to the wider world, and the Indian Subcontinent, particularly Delhi, was once a place where talented poets and scholars from the whole Persian cultural world – from Turkey to eastern China – came to make their fortunes. Its traces remain everywhere but Persian is effectively a dead language in India today.