SS Quah's Anything Goes: Nepal-India Day 15: Jaipur to Delhi

Monday, 9 March 2026

Nepal-India Day 15: Jaipur to Delhi

Dateline: 5 December 2025. The journey from Jaipur to Delhi took close to six hours, a long stretch of highway that gradually thickened with traffic as we neared the capital. By the time we entered the city, the afternoon sun had begun to mellow, casting a warm light that seemed to soften even the concrete flyovers and busy intersections. There was no pause for rest. The Qutb Minar was our first destination in Delhi.

Stepping into the complex felt like stepping back into time measured by centuries. The grounds opened wide and there it stood, the Minar itself, which rose in red sandstone against a pale sky, radiating warmth in the late afternoon light.

Construction began in 1199 under Qutb al-Din Aibak, founder of the Delhi Sultanate, and was later completed and repaired by successive rulers after lightning damaged its upper levels. Its five storeys remained clearly distinct. The lower tiers were more intricately carved with bands of Arabic calligraphy wrapped around the stone. Higher up, the surface became plainer, the ornamentation less dense.

Our tour guide, while explaining dynasties and dates, mentioned the name of a Sufi master connected with the early Sultanate period. Unfortunately, I cannot now remember the name he mentioned. Information overload. But the reference lingered. The Minar is commonly described as a victory tower where power was proclaimed with each new ruler. Yet the Sufis of that era were preaching something altogether different: humility, inwardness, love of the Divine beyond formal authority.

At the first opportunity, I mentioned the Persian poet Rumi whose verses on longing and union continued to resonate across centuries. And I confessed my long-standing admiration for Omar Khayyam whose quatrains, hovering between faith and scepticism, have always appealed to my temperament. The guide looked mildly surprised.

We could not climb its 379 internal steps since access has long been closed. At one point, two guards arrived to open the door briefly to go in and that was that. That was as close as we would get. From ground level, however, its scale was overwhelming enough. It did indeed feel like a vertical declaration etched into the skyline.

From there we wandered into the remains of the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque. Built in the late 12th century, it is considered the first mosque in Delhi. What struck me most were the pillars. Many had been repurposed from demolished Hindu and Jain temples. Carvings of bells, floral motifs and faint deities still lingered on their surfaces. One civilisation building on top of another. The vast stone screen of arches at the mosque’s façade seemed an attempt to assert a newer Islamic architectural identity upon earlier foundations.

Further within stood the Alai Darwaza, built in 1311 by Alauddin Khalji. Its proportions were precise, its red sandstone walls inlaid with white marble calligraphy and geometric patterns. It is said to be among the earliest examples in India of true arches and a true dome constructed with advanced engineering techniques. In the afternoon light, the contrast between red and white was luminous, almost delicate despite the solidity of the structure.

Nearby was the tomb of Iltutmish, the second Sultan of Delhi. Its exterior was plain, almost austere. Inside, however, the carvings were intricate with geometric patterns and calligraphic inscriptions etched deeply into sandstone. Not far away, the Tomb of Imam Zamin, a 16th-century addition from the Mughal period, offered yet another shift in tone. Its white marble dome and fine jali lattice windows contrasted with the rugged grandeur of the earlier buildings.

The complex was not merely a collection of monuments. It was a story told across eight centuries covering conquests and consolidation, destruction and adaptation, ambition and artistry. The Minar may dominate the skyline, but the surrounding structures give it context. Together they form a chronicle of Delhi’s long, long past.

From the Qutb Minar, we were returned rather abruptly to present-day realities. Some shopping was in order, and we were taken to a Pekoe Tips Tea outlet. While the others browsed shelves of neatly packed tins and fragrant blends, I slipped outside for a moment. The moon had already risen. It was one day past full, no longer perfectly round, but still luminous enough to command attention. After an afternoon immersed in centuries-old stone, that familiar orb felt reassuring and reminding me of home.

That evening we checked into the Hotel Africa Avenue. After the impressive accommodations in Bodhgaya, Varanasi and Jaipur, this Delhi hotel felt noticeably smaller. A little cramped and somewhat spartan, the furnishings simple and tired, the room lacking the polish of earlier stays. Yet it was clean, with amenities and the bed was comfortable enough. At that late stage of the journey, comfort mattered more than aesthetics.

The next morning we would be checking out. This would be our final night in India. And as I laid there, I thought back of our journey from Kathmandu to Delhi and thinking how much we had accomplished on this short trip of 16 days. Within 24 hours, we would be leaving for hime, carrying with us this story.