From the station, I cross a busy four-lane road (once daunting, now automatic) and make my way into Mehrauli, one of seven medieval cities nested within the limits of present-day Delhi. Mehrauli is home to the famous Qutub Minar, the world's tallest brick minaret (completed 1220), among numerous other ruins and historical sites from as early as the 11th and 12th centuries. The road into Mehrauli is narrow and rough, lined with vendors and craftspeople of all kinds. You can find everything--cheap mattresses, bathtubs full of live fish, butchers, various building materials, ornate stone engravings, furniture, haircuts, piles of charcoal, fruits and vegetables, metal locks, biryani, mango shakes, athletic clothing, footwear, and discount iPhone cases--along the half-mile stretch I walk each Thursday morning.
Given the rich Islamic history of Mehrauli dating to the Delhi Sultanate, it comes as no surprise that it remains a heavily Muslim area. Masjids (mosques), both functional and historical, line the route. As you can see from the first photo, some are even covered with watermelons these days. Based solely on the dress of shopkeepers and passersby, I estimate the neighborhood hosts closer to an even split of Muslim and Hindu residents than the city of Delhi as a whole, which splits six-to-one in favor of the majority religion. That's not far off the national average, with the highest concentration of Muslims in North India. The religious fault lines of post-partition South Asia are not a topic I have the strength to tackle here, but suffice it to say that in today's India Muslims cluster in specific areas, Old Delhi being among the most well-known. Mehrauli is nowhere near as frenetic, narrow, and crowded as Chandni Chawk, a famous bazaar near Jama Masjid in Old Delhi, but it hints some of the same flavors. There are countless Indias to behold, even just within Delhi, and my thirty-minute commute to Mehrauli takes me wholly from one into another.
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