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The main intersection between the Old city and the new city can be ITO. As crowded as you can think it to be, during peak hours, traffic jams at ITO are normal. The high rise buildings of Delhi Police Headquarters see a flow of people, grimly looking at each other, and exchanging expressions of despair of walking back to a tough life of office. The essence of Nukkad ka khana is intact on the streets of ITO, where you have rickety stalls, dogs going around the dust bin baskets, clearing their food agenda for today, lafange boys sitting at chai stalls and enjoying, well just enjoying!
Chola Bhatura stalls with Rs.20 for a plate, is worth the grease that they sell. The stall has been there since 1978, run by a guy from Faridkot, he is paunching bellies of hungry Delhiites since its inception.
The city’s unemployed, spreading the news of current vacancies in bright colored leaflets, and others while rushing with time entering their offices. This is what makes up for the life around ITO.
Taking a glance of the main areas around ITO, all I can recall is there was Jamait Ulaima, an Ismalic center for learning, unrecognizable from far, but a modern structure with a medieval style dome, were they trying to imitate the royal architecture of Shahjahanabad?
One of the most quiet places in ITO, the best part about it is they let you go right up till the dome. Inside there is a beautiful pool, palm trees and lamp posts which remind you of the works of Audrey Hepburn dancing on My Fair lady. Can you even imagine a place right in the midst of a busy street of ITO?
The place is a crossroads between the modern and medieval. While on one side is a Mughal glamour of Khooni Darwaza, Dilli Gate and Red Fort, the other side houses the British razzle-dazzle, India Gate and the Presidents House.
A glance through the whole street of intermix reflects a blend of old and new. Right from a street named after Delhi’s Last Mughal ruler to Delhi’s first Deputy Mayor which is Ram Charan Agarwal Chowk. ITO is also the place which is now the hub of various important offices, from the Passport office to the secretariat offices, all Bureaucratic honchos are drawn towards this part of the city. Tucked away in one corner is the Doll Museum. This is no other ordinary Museum this is an international Museum, which is a haven for children. Annabelle and the concept of dolls has much been spooked by the Hollywood for us, but this is a place which will bring back your childhood memories of how you used to play with dolls. Right at the heart of Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, The museum has successfully taken over the Nehru House, which houses around 6000 dolls from 85 countries. Not only the models are on display but they also speak a lot about the heritage from which they come. It is a sight to see the cultural traditions of 85 different countries displayed on one place.

The garden right in front of the entrance of Humayun’s tomb has a story to tell, a story which is overshadowed by one of the most beautiful place of Delhi. The nocturnal tunes of the birds singing, sitting in the tree lined corridors, while the boys indulge in some cricket sessions, while some love birds take some time off to exchange love with each other.
The pathway has a soul, which is trampled every time people walk through it. A time off from the city life, the pathway gives us an opportunity to engage with the deeper feelings and thoughts, which remain dormant for the most parts of our lives. The city life tends to take a toll on your routine, when each day, each minute you miss a beat, the beat of nature. Just like how Humayun as a person was. A considerate attached father who would not raise his voice over his favourite sons, a well learned man, who was deeply involved in books that it was easy to trick him. A man who exuberated the legacy that he was coming from, as well as spreading the wings of the Mughal empire far and wide.
If we could use the garden area as a metaphor to understand the emperor, it would have been a perfect one. Not very interested in how cleverly sultans would take over empires. That is why he must have lost the empire to the hands of the Afghan ruler Sher Shah Suri. With the help of his able commanders he was quick to take over from the Surs, and re-establish the Mughal empire with much prominence and authority.
As the sun begins to set, and the sky is clear blend, of blue, red and orange, the long pathway is bathed in the glow of the twilight hour which resembles the fallen leaves.

Out of all the narrow lanes of Old Delhi, there is an extraordinary gully which offers sights of exquisite Havelis. Old dilapidated houses which might be once prominent are now in ruins. But ruins also have their own attraction, isn’t it?
The turn towards a street called Chooriwalan in Chawri Bazar, will transport you to a more sublime street, which is away from the hustle of Old Delhi. The old buildings built of Lakhori bricks, is well preserved with elaborate mansions flanked on both sides of the street. The street is part of Chawri Bazaar once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evict them from the area altogether.,[4] the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a ‘sabha’ or meeting would take place in front of a noble’s house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street, however, got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.
The bazaar is now a hub of largest wholesale market for hardware with hardware shops lined all across the street. The street called Chooriwalan, was believed to be the street which would be lined with beautiful shops selling bangles. Going right till the ends of Matia Mahal Bazaar, the street is lined with stenches and sights which are typical of the Walled city. You may take a brief walk for a shorter distance on the street, but the walk itself will evoke a sense of pleasure looking at the dilapidated mansions.
The old style doors and windows, with jaalis are a treat to the eyes. They keep reminding how we have still not come out of the magnificence of the era. Overhanging balconies with elaborately carved brackets are beauties beyond words.
For a usual passerby, the sun rays falling over the whole street, making it glitter might be a usual thing, but for someone like us, who don’t get to appreciate heritage in how they are, it is an illuminated object of Museum.
Throughout the day, people residing in the vicinity walk through the streets, uninterested of the beauty that the street holds. At night the street lamps dimly light up the street, giving it an old world charm which cannot be missed!

A walk through the beautifully manicured streets of Civil lines are the only relics that are well preserved in the Northern part of the city. While the Mughal imperial city of Shahjahanabad, was the seat of the power till about mid 18th century, the British did not touch it, except organize the buildings to separate areas where the British military and the civilians were located. The areas which were consisting of civilian populations were demarcated as Civil Lines.
The British after overtaking the power from the Mughals, had commissioned the building of Civil lines or archaically known as White Towns, for the English civilians around the Indian Subcontinent. The towns which would have, silent broad roads, with manicured parks, colonnades resembling the one found in Great Britain. The milkman would ride a bicycle and give milk packets. The roads would resonate silence even in peak hours unlike how we were used to the chaos of Old Delhi. A way of making them not feel home away from home?
One of the most interesting buildings from the British Raj era is the Metcalfe House. A walk through the lanes of Civil Lines will lead you to a place where the administration and governance of the Indian Empire was conducted by nineteen Governor Generals. From Lord Canning to Lord Reading their offices were housed in the Old Secretariat building in Alipore Road, Bungalow no.1. This bungalow is now a major college of Delhi University, Indraprastha College for Women. But wait, the bill board reads Sham Nath Marg?
The erstwhile Alipore Road was the administrative hub, which still has the colonial architecture intact, until the last city of Delhi came into the picture. That was the time when they shifted their base to the Lutyen’s Delhi area by around 1930’s, the city which was the last in the league of building into the socio cultural heritage of Delhi.
Till Independence the major parts of civil lines were a part of the offices which housed British Army, the Post Master General and the Army Press. Post Independence, the place was reduced to Delhi’s metropolitan Council. The serene world of Colonial splendors of Civil Lines, with sparse populations, and arcades with British architecture donning both sides of the streets are an absolute delight to watch.
Take a short walk from the underground of the Civil Lines metro station towards the Maiden’s Hotel, it is then you will understand what British grandeur was! Supposedly the first ever modern Hotel constructed in Delhi, the Maiden’s hotel now taken up by the Oberoi’s and renamed as Oberoi’s Maidens is a reflection of beauty which is distilled with ordinariness. This was also the hotel which had greeted Prince of Wales, and organized the first ever grand ball, in English style. We are not less are we?
It is hard to imagine the Civil Lines of present times to resonate the same amount of silence, where you could cycle your way through the different lanes, while you have a good glance around! Today the roads are jam packed, with cars honking at each other, and men quarrelling over menial issues. Chai stalls feeding into the thirst of college going girls, it is no more a place which was known for its silence!