Find the author 'neath the purple prose

Not that Goel represents Delhi, as the book is somewhat generously, and erroneously, named, but a smaller and populous pocket called Chandni Chowk.

This was once part of Shahjahanabad, the city Shah Jahan built, and which included his capital, the Red Fort, the Kotwali and Jama Masjid.

A mere 350 years later, Shahjahanabad remains a prominent trading centre for traditional businesses, but overcrowding and lack of development has cut a sharp divide between it and the rest of yuppie Delhi.

Goel exhorts his readers to go looking for magic and the bygone era in his sentimentally written introduction. This is where he loses touch with reality.

For someone who grew up in Chandni Chowk, and whose paper business operates out of Khari Baoli, Goel may have twinges of nostalgia for a childhood home, and a place that gives him his livelihood, but the muck and dirt, the congestion and filth, the abuse and disabuse of Chandni Chowk and its environs are enough to put most people off forever.

If it wasn't for its cheaper, wholesale bargains, it is a moot point whether people would come to Chandni Chowk at all, in spite of the dubious culinary attractions of Paranthewali Gali or Karim's.

In fact, in an otherwise well-documented (about which more later) book, if there is one thing that stands out, it is Goel's lack of objectivity. Everything about Chandni Chowk and the area around it are shown in positive light.

For the first time, perhaps, the havelis, religious shrines and educational centres of the area have been somewhat exhaustively listed, described and photographed.

For the average Dilliwallah, this can prove an eye-opener of sorts, considering most think of Chandni Chowk as a large urban slum.

That the area still has literally scores of havelis, many inhabited by descendants of the same families that had built these, may come as a bit of a surprise in a historic city where history is usually given short shrift.

Clearly too, Goel must have had to penetrate through several layers (ownership, in so many cases, being obscure) to get to photograph the havelis and buildings (while avoiding electric and telephone wires and wire junctions).

This, if nothing else, is a tribute to both his love for the walled city as well as his skill of perseverance and, perhaps, the heavy-handedness of a politician bent on achieving his purpose.

Even so, an objectivity in perspective might have helped. To view these havelis as the high point of Indian architecture is to denigrate the great architectural traditions that have existed in the sub-continent.

In fact, many of these havelis, though they may have followed traditional norms, often corrupted the style beyond all imagination, and were venal, obtuse or plain ugly.

Despite this, Goel's book is at pains to point out how each pillar, or arch, or wall, or ceiling, is a tribute to the mason's and artisan's skills.

By that note, it is entirely possible that, a hundred years from now, a representative from Vasant Kunj may write glowingly of its architecture (or what remains of it).

Goel uses sleight of language in placing the havelis of Chandni Chowk on par with the sandstone havelis of Jaisalmer.

Unfair though this might seem, for those of us able to look beyond the poles and billboards that conceal the architecture of Chandni Chowk, the results might appear surprising.

Hence the appeal to convert it into a heritage zone is not entirely unwarranted. A committee to improve the facades, standardise billboard sizes, and maintain the buildings is likely to be fraught with challenge, but it's clearly a task Goel has set himself.

A festival to celebrate Chandni Chowk's past, and the book under review, are only the first steps in that direction.

Despite this, the book does not read like a politician's manifesto. Underneath it all, what defines the book is Goel's fascination for a part of the capital that has a continuous link with the past and where its history, with just a little nudge, could be so beautifully integrated with the rest of the city.

And, for a moment to share Goel's idealism, it is delightful to think that it is possible to spend a little time walking from Skinner's cemetery to Mirza Ghalib's haveli (recently renovated), of recounting the horrors of Gallows Bastion or paying tribute at Mutiny Memorial.

For centuries, it was this part of Delhi that was central to Mughal and British occupation, yet most Dilliwallahs know little or nothing of its buildings and monuments apart from Red Fort and Jama Masjid.

Yet, it was this mixing of Hindu, Islamic and, later, British modes and manners that gave rise to a tehzeeb that was uniquely Shahjahanabadi.

If it still exists, it has been dominated by the aggressive need to survive in the Emperor's City, and may need as much excavation as the city itself to detect and restore to a pedestal of its own.

The text and photographs of this book have been credited and copyrighted to Vijay Goel.

That he could attend to his duties as a minister in the Vajpayee government (to whom he dedicates this volume), undertake his parliamentary tasks, and yet find time to photograph and research material on Chandni Chowk is particularly credit-worthy.

Provided, of course, he did take on the onerous task himself. For in crediting Sunil Kumar Ahuja "" "my photographer" "" and Vikas Bhardwaj "" "for his contribution towards research and documentation" "" one cannot but help wonder if Goel's conciliatory gesture is indicative of the true authorship of this book.

DELHI: THE EMPEROR's CITY

Rediscovering Chandni Chowk and its Environs

Vijay Goel

Lustre Press/Roli Books

Pages: 176

Price: Rs 850