Publication
HarperCollins (1994), Edition: New Ed, 352 pages
Original publication date
1993
Collections
Subjects
Awards
Description
'Could you show me a djinn?' I asked. 'Certainly,' replied the Sufi. 'But you would run away.' This is William Dalrymple's captivating memoir of a year spent in Delhi, a city watched over and protected by the mischievous invisible djinns.
User reviews
LibraryThing member samgb
Very good. Fantastic evocation of place. Dalrymple is intoxicated by Delhi and it's history and the book captures that sense of wonder beautifully.
LibraryThing member Karen_Wells
I like this author, and in a travel book that's essential. Exploring the earth's far places in the company of a bighead or a bore is no fun. Here, he is in Delhi - a destination I only ever want to go to in my armchair.
I like how hard he works for his books. Here, for just one example, he's
Also noteworthy is his love for architecture. If I beheld the Taj Mahal I wouldn't know what to say except 'it's nice'. Dalrymple can do considerably better. I enjoyed his 'Holy Mountain' a good deal more, because the scope of that book is far bigger and grander, but for knowledge of a place without the heat and flies, this author is as good as you will find.
I like how hard he works for his books. Here, for just one example, he's
Show More
prepared to get up before dawn and cross the city day after day, in the hope of making an entry to the secret world of the eunuchs. When he has good material he makes the most of it; when pickings are slim, he makes the most of what he has. Also noteworthy is his love for architecture. If I beheld the Taj Mahal I wouldn't know what to say except 'it's nice'. Dalrymple can do considerably better. I enjoyed his 'Holy Mountain' a good deal more, because the scope of that book is far bigger and grander, but for knowledge of a place without the heat and flies, this author is as good as you will find.
Show Less
LibraryThing member CarltonC
An enjoyable romp back through the history the history of Delhi as Dalrymple experiences the city and its environs over the course of a year (about 1990).
The history is interesting, as I did not know much at all about the Mughal past and that these invaders were a Muslim warrior caste that ruled
The history is interesting, as I did not know much at all about the Mughal past and that these invaders were a Muslim warrior caste that ruled
Show More
over a Hindu population. However, the colour provided by Dalrymple's research and meetings with locals are what make the book a joy to read and live as more than an historical account. Show Less
LibraryThing member lady_mary_wroth
A great introduction to India and the history of its capital city, Delhi. Dalrymple writes from a unique perspective as an outsider who has become an insider and offers great insights into the city, its history, and its personality.
LibraryThing member danoomistmatiste
In his inimitable style WD attempts to recount the travails of this historic city by weaving together contemporary and historical vignettes interspersed with a generous dash of humor.
To say that some of the rulers of Delhi the Sultans and later the Mughal Emperors were cruel and decadent is a gross
Maintaining a large Harem was de rigueur with everyone maintaining a fair mix of wifes and concubines.
One pattern emerges and that is the decline of cities like Old Delhi and Lucknow with the flight of the muslim middle class and intelligentsia during partition. But listen to M.J. Akbar who recently in a meeting thanked God profusely for having given him and his family the foresight to stay back and not follow the rest to of them to that hell.
To say that some of the rulers of Delhi the Sultans and later the Mughal Emperors were cruel and decadent is a gross
Show More
understatement. A few of them esp Muhammad Bin Tughlaq and Shah Jehan seemed to revel in cruelty and debauchery. This Tughlaq dude was a true megalomaniac, he moved the entire population of Delhi to the South of India into a Fort city called Daulatabad (having to make it by foot, only 1 in 10 made it) only to move back to Delhi after 2 years.Maintaining a large Harem was de rigueur with everyone maintaining a fair mix of wifes and concubines.
One pattern emerges and that is the decline of cities like Old Delhi and Lucknow with the flight of the muslim middle class and intelligentsia during partition. But listen to M.J. Akbar who recently in a meeting thanked God profusely for having given him and his family the foresight to stay back and not follow the rest to of them to that hell.
Show Less
LibraryThing member mjw
One of the best travel books I've ever read, bar none. One that will accompany me when I travel to Delhi. A journey through a city - and its history, sights, sounds, smells and people - unlike any other. A remarkable achievement.
LibraryThing member boo262
The eccentric, colourful and entertaining characters that Dalrymple meets make this book what it is. Recommended for anyone knows Delhi and its people, and those about to visit for the first time.
LibraryThing member wolffamily
I learned a lot about Delhi, liked style of writing but wasn't 'light'reading
LibraryThing member 391
This was really a struggle to plow through. If I had a deeper understanding of Delhi and were easily able to follow the huge dumps of information about people, places and events without needing to constantly consult the glossary or wikipedia I may have been able to enjoy it more. I do admire
Show More
Dalrymple's passion for India and his dedication to tracking down every tangent of Delhi life that he could, but overall I was very removed from the book the entire time I was reading it. Show Less
LibraryThing member Widsith
Delhi is lucky to have William Dalrymple as a chronicler – not many cities get such exemplary treatment as this. I think I even preferred it to Peter Ackroyd's London: The Biography, just because Ackroyd presents himself as an expert dispensing knowledge, whereas Dalrymple is pure ingénu:
For Dalrymple, Delhi is a city of accumulated losses, haunted by its innumerable fallen rulers, the locus of empires that have been lost and – though not actively remembered – not quite forgotten either. Two dates recur with especial frequency. 1857, when the Mughal Empire finally fell, and 1947, when the British Indian Empire was dissolved and the territory partitioned into India and Pakistan.
Partition in particular emerges as the event that underlies almost everything about modern Delhi. While some authors might present this as a bald historic fact, Dalrymple instead lets us share in his growing realization over quite how much of the city's population left, arrived, or was radically changed by Partition.
Even the most innocuous of our neighbours, we discovered, had extraordinary tales of 1947: chartered accountants could tell tales of single-handedly fighting off baying mobs; men from grey government ministries would emerge as the heroes of bloody street battles.
Nor is he content with hearing only from those still in the city. He travels to Pakistan to hear from Delhi's former population of Muslims too, still speaking what they refer to as pure Delhi Urdu in the streets of Karachi. Dalrymple's interview with Ahmed Ali, the author of Twilight in Delhi, is fascinating. Ali loathes the whole idea of Pakistan; indeed the only country he seems to hate more is post-Partition India itself, to the extent that when a flight he was on had to make an emergency stop in Delhi, he refused even to get off the plane.
‘The civilization I belong to – the civilization of Delhi – came into being through the mingling of two different cultures, Hindu and Muslim. That civilization flourished for one thousand years undisturbed until certain people came along and denied that that great mingling had taken place.’
This sense that the city has created a constant stream of such refugees throughout the years, whether physically or mentally, is central to Dalrymple's understanding of Delhi. The British are an unusual case because, as he points out, their lengthy period of political rule has left remarkably few traces on Indian culture. The Brits that Dalrymple can find who had lived in colonial India show a hilariously skewed kind of imperious equanimity over Indian independence. ‘On balance I think you must never take land away from a people,’ says one old Englishwoman who, as a child, had known Lutyens.
‘A people's land has a mystique. You can go and possibly order them about for a bit, perhaps introduce some new ideas, build a few good buildings, but then in the end you must go away and die in Cheltenham.’
And the few Brits still remaining in-country show the sort of bizarre false memories of "the motherland" common to all such colonial relics (I've met some similar people myself in Kenya) – ‘The dish I like is that Kentucky Fried Chicken,’ confides one man as he reminisces about a couple of trips to relatives in Suffolk. ‘It's a very popular dish over there, that Kentucky Fried Chicken is. A delightful dish.’
The major exception to Britain's complete disappearance from Indian society is of course the English language. The English spoken in India is its own animal, with all kinds of strange and unusual pleasures awaiting those who are unfamiliar with it. Its status as a lingua franca means that the fluency of some users is not high, and many of the ensuing idiosyncrasies, along with influences from Indian languages, have made their way into the standard idiom. The result is a very dynamic printed language subject to a lot of rapid tonal shifts which make it especially prone to bathos and other register-clashing effects. Dalrymple offers up this obituary from the Hindustani Times as a minor classic of the genre:
SAD DEMISE
With profound grief we have to condole the untimely passing of our beloved general manager MISTER DEEPAK MEHTA, thirty four years, who left us for heavenly abode in tragic circumstances (beaten to death with bedpost). Condole presented by bereft of Mehta Agencies (Private) Limited.
Perhaps the most impressive parts of the book, though, are the result of more intensive research that takes Dalrymple out of the library and into the streets. In particular his long, delicate attempts to get first-hand interviews and experience with Delhi's hijra community – representing a kind of fusion of transgender identity with India's eunuch tradition – are amazing, and result in some remarkable testimony from within a very closed and secretive subculture.
‘I started to wear women's clothes and to put on makeup. The following year I was taken to a village in the Punjab. I was dosed with opium and a string was tied around my equipment. Then the whole lot was cut off. I knew it would be very painful and dangerous, but I got cut so that no one would taunt me any more. After I was cut all my male blood flowed away and with it went my manhood. Before I was neither one thing nor the other. Now I am a hijra. I am not man or woman. I am from a different sex.’
My only real concern is that so much of this must now be out of date; comments about how the roads are ‘becoming clogged’ (ha! I actually read this page while sitting in an afternoon-long traffic jam that was nose-to-tail cars, buses, pedestrians and cattle) are a reminder that 1993 is a long time ago for a city changing as fast as Delhi is. But overall there is so much to enjoy here, such a wealth of great material so well tied together, and motivated by a palpable love of the city, that despite its age it's still the first book many Delhi-wallahs recommend for anyone visiting this City of Djinns for the first time.
Show More
curious, open-minded, he allows us to accompany him on his own journey of exploration and discovery which dovetails with the social and historical narratives he uncovers.For Dalrymple, Delhi is a city of accumulated losses, haunted by its innumerable fallen rulers, the locus of empires that have been lost and – though not actively remembered – not quite forgotten either. Two dates recur with especial frequency. 1857, when the Mughal Empire finally fell, and 1947, when the British Indian Empire was dissolved and the territory partitioned into India and Pakistan.
Partition in particular emerges as the event that underlies almost everything about modern Delhi. While some authors might present this as a bald historic fact, Dalrymple instead lets us share in his growing realization over quite how much of the city's population left, arrived, or was radically changed by Partition.
Even the most innocuous of our neighbours, we discovered, had extraordinary tales of 1947: chartered accountants could tell tales of single-handedly fighting off baying mobs; men from grey government ministries would emerge as the heroes of bloody street battles.
Nor is he content with hearing only from those still in the city. He travels to Pakistan to hear from Delhi's former population of Muslims too, still speaking what they refer to as pure Delhi Urdu in the streets of Karachi. Dalrymple's interview with Ahmed Ali, the author of Twilight in Delhi, is fascinating. Ali loathes the whole idea of Pakistan; indeed the only country he seems to hate more is post-Partition India itself, to the extent that when a flight he was on had to make an emergency stop in Delhi, he refused even to get off the plane.
‘The civilization I belong to – the civilization of Delhi – came into being through the mingling of two different cultures, Hindu and Muslim. That civilization flourished for one thousand years undisturbed until certain people came along and denied that that great mingling had taken place.’
This sense that the city has created a constant stream of such refugees throughout the years, whether physically or mentally, is central to Dalrymple's understanding of Delhi. The British are an unusual case because, as he points out, their lengthy period of political rule has left remarkably few traces on Indian culture. The Brits that Dalrymple can find who had lived in colonial India show a hilariously skewed kind of imperious equanimity over Indian independence. ‘On balance I think you must never take land away from a people,’ says one old Englishwoman who, as a child, had known Lutyens.
‘A people's land has a mystique. You can go and possibly order them about for a bit, perhaps introduce some new ideas, build a few good buildings, but then in the end you must go away and die in Cheltenham.’
And the few Brits still remaining in-country show the sort of bizarre false memories of "the motherland" common to all such colonial relics (I've met some similar people myself in Kenya) – ‘The dish I like is that Kentucky Fried Chicken,’ confides one man as he reminisces about a couple of trips to relatives in Suffolk. ‘It's a very popular dish over there, that Kentucky Fried Chicken is. A delightful dish.’
The major exception to Britain's complete disappearance from Indian society is of course the English language. The English spoken in India is its own animal, with all kinds of strange and unusual pleasures awaiting those who are unfamiliar with it. Its status as a lingua franca means that the fluency of some users is not high, and many of the ensuing idiosyncrasies, along with influences from Indian languages, have made their way into the standard idiom. The result is a very dynamic printed language subject to a lot of rapid tonal shifts which make it especially prone to bathos and other register-clashing effects. Dalrymple offers up this obituary from the Hindustani Times as a minor classic of the genre:
SAD DEMISE
With profound grief we have to condole the untimely passing of our beloved general manager MISTER DEEPAK MEHTA, thirty four years, who left us for heavenly abode in tragic circumstances (beaten to death with bedpost). Condole presented by bereft of Mehta Agencies (Private) Limited.
Perhaps the most impressive parts of the book, though, are the result of more intensive research that takes Dalrymple out of the library and into the streets. In particular his long, delicate attempts to get first-hand interviews and experience with Delhi's hijra community – representing a kind of fusion of transgender identity with India's eunuch tradition – are amazing, and result in some remarkable testimony from within a very closed and secretive subculture.
‘I started to wear women's clothes and to put on makeup. The following year I was taken to a village in the Punjab. I was dosed with opium and a string was tied around my equipment. Then the whole lot was cut off. I knew it would be very painful and dangerous, but I got cut so that no one would taunt me any more. After I was cut all my male blood flowed away and with it went my manhood. Before I was neither one thing nor the other. Now I am a hijra. I am not man or woman. I am from a different sex.’
My only real concern is that so much of this must now be out of date; comments about how the roads are ‘becoming clogged’ (ha! I actually read this page while sitting in an afternoon-long traffic jam that was nose-to-tail cars, buses, pedestrians and cattle) are a reminder that 1993 is a long time ago for a city changing as fast as Delhi is. But overall there is so much to enjoy here, such a wealth of great material so well tied together, and motivated by a palpable love of the city, that despite its age it's still the first book many Delhi-wallahs recommend for anyone visiting this City of Djinns for the first time.
Show Less
LibraryThing member maximnoronha
This is a very readable book. Well assembled with lovely metaphors, unforced humor and peppered with wonderful drawings, it is a lesson in how to put together and present what would otherwise be a drab, academic exercise for most readers. Essentially historical, but Dalrymple also talks about the
When I started out, I honestly didn't think the history would be this interesting. The book's unique structure contributes in no small measure, alternating in between the author's experiences in the capital city and the country at large and the history, of course. I shall most definitely be going back for more.
Show More
architecture, so you will do well to keep your browser open and google down the wiki articles for the many terms. An ereader can only do so much. When I started out, I honestly didn't think the history would be this interesting. The book's unique structure contributes in no small measure, alternating in between the author's experiences in the capital city and the country at large and the history, of course. I shall most definitely be going back for more.
Show Less
LibraryThing member libbromus
The book's description makes you think there will be an element of the supernatural interwoven into the story, the biography of the city of Delhi, in interesting ways. I didn't find that. Instead this is a rambling look at the various layers and neighborhoods of the Delhi of today and on back for
Show More
millennia. Don't get me wrong, I liked these stories. There are Dickensian elements in the moldering English holdovers; the ones left behind. There are haunted houses and superstitions a la Henry James. There is humor and irony galore. India and Indian people are a fascinating blend of cultures and superstitions, fictions and half-truths, extremes of asceticism and glamour; all soaked and nurtured by their sacred rivers and baked by their sun. This book wasn't a page-turner per se but I enjoyed reading it. Show Less
LibraryThing member pbjwelch
Fab book on New Delhi. Have given at least five copies to friends who are moving there. Just got a copy signed by Dalrymple while he was in Singapore this past week :-)
Language
Original language
English
ISBN
9780006375951
Physical description
352 p.; 5.25 inches
Pages
352