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Journalism of Courage
What would a home in eighteenth-century Delhi look like? The answer, perhaps, lies in the vestiges of the once opulent havelis (mansions) that dot the nooks and corners of Delhi even today. While this grand and historic city opened its arms to different kinds of settlers over centuries, the havelis too eventually made way for DDA flats built to accommodate middle-class dreams or modern housing built for an aspirational India.
‘At Home in Delhi’ is a five-part series exploring Delhi beyond its monumental architecture, taking a close look at the everyday structures that make the city unique. The series will delve into the history, design, and significance of the various buildings that make Delhi and how they reflect the cultural, social, and economic forces at play. It will also highlight the diverse ways in which people make Delhi their home, exploring how different communities have adapted and transformed the city’s urban landscape to meet their needs.
Beginning with the age-old havelis of Delhi, the series will move on to Art Deco homes, DDA housing, industrial housing, and lastly, modern housing.
Premlata (55) grew up in a four-room traditional haveli in Dhaka village near Delhi University. “People used to call us the ‘Haveliwale’,” she says, reminiscing about her childhood when her family owned one of the most prominent havelis in the village. Though it was not very big, it was beautiful, she says. The imposing doorway was made of teakwood and later replaced with metal after decay set in. The baithak (drawing room), she recalls, had a beautiful ‘Kadi Tukdi’ (solid wooden weight-bearing structures to support the roof) ceiling. The balcony on the first-floor terrace had a simple but elegant design cut into the stone. “Before we started using wall paint, we would plaster the aangan (courtyard) and the terrace with cow dung, which kept it cool during the summers,” Premlata recalls.
“With time, we started making small changes, such as toilets attached to rooms (traditionally, toilets were outside the main compound) and adding new floors,” she adds. Premlata, along with her seven sisters, got married in the aangan. Those were the times when the baraat (wedding procession) came home, slept on the terrace and all the ceremonies happened in the aangan. But the newer generation does not care about emotions, says Premlata, who now lives in an upscale colony in South Delhi. A few years ago, she says, the haveli was demolished. Now, her brothers are likely to move out of the village, cutting the last remaining ties with their heritage – and her memories.
For generations, Delhi has held a special relationship with its fast-disappearing havelis. Heritage conservationist Jyoti Hosagrahar in her article titled ‘Mansions to Margins: Modernity and the Domestic Landscapes of Historic Delhi, 1847-1910’ captures it beautifully as she writes: “As the primary unit of the urban fabric, the haveli or mansions of Old Delhi offer a window into the city itself. Like the city, the mansions – fragmented, commercialised and rebuilt – remained vibrant even in their dilapidation.”
Eighteenth-century Delhi was known as the ultimate oriental city, symbolising wealth and beauty. Apart from the grand mosques and forts, the city’s domestic architecture, the haveli or the mansion, was equally marvellous, often symbolising the status of its owners. Seventeenth-century French traveller, Francois Bernier, observed the presence of many large, walled mansions in Delhi and noted:
“[Amid]… streets are dispersed the habitations of Mansebdars, or petty Omrahs, officers of justice, rich merchants, and others; … They consider that a house to be greatly admired ought to be situated in the middle of a large flower-garden, and should have four large divan-apartments raised the height of a man from the ground and exposed to the four winds so that the coolness may be felt from any quarter. The interior of a good house has the whole floor covered with a cotton mattress four inches in thickness, over which a fine white cloth is spread during the summer, and a silk carpet in the winter……The ceiling is gilt and painted”.
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The word ‘haveli’ comes from an old Arabic word ‘haola’, meaning partition. It is used to designate a housing popular in north and northwest India from around the 17th century. A haveli can be a private mansion housing a single family or, in some cases, multiple families, usually the owners’ staff. As author T S Randhawa points out in his book, ‘The Indian Courtyard’ (1999), “courtyard house architecture in India was not just an architectural style. It was a way of life”.
At the core of each haveli lies a courtyard that acts as the epicentre of all its spaces, linking the public and private areas while providing ventilation and light. The houses are divided into three distinct segregated zones for men, women and animals.
By the 18th century, the havelis of prominent noblemen had evolved into complexes with their own sense of community and identity. The neighbourhood-like haveli often contained both domestic and commercial units for those associated with the same patron, such as the labourers, cart drivers, tent pitchers, torchbearers, blacksmiths, and weavers. Some domestic structures, such as Haveli Azam Khan and Haveli Qutbuddin Khan, were significant enough to be part of a list of monuments in Delhi prepared by the Archaeological Survey of India in 1916.
Thus, socially and architecturally, havelis were landmarks in the city and symbolic centres, just as the royal palace or Red Fort was.
While havelis in the capital continue to be concentrated in the erstwhile Mughal capital of Shahjahanabad, several other historical pockets offer a glimpse into the city’s rich past. One such area is Chirag Dilli in South Delhi. One of the busiest urban villages, Chirag Dilli has a history stretching back to the 14th century when the revered Sufi saint Hazrat Nasiruddin ‘Roshan Chirag-i-Dehli’ made this area his home. Entering the village through one of its last remaining gates from the 18th century, it is surprising to find several havelis hidden amongst tall buildings and busy markets, making the area a microcosm for the city.
The village is organised into distinct mohallas according to caste and occupation and is home to diverse communities (Hindu Jats, Muslims, Jains, Punjabis etc). Author Sarah Tillotson, in her book ‘Indian Mansions: A Social History of the Haveli’ writes about the locational logic and planning of havelis within cities like Delhi, Jaipur and Ahmedabad. She argues that even when the main streets of the city were formally planned, the smaller streets and alleys which led to havelis have no logic or visible order. On a closer look, however, one can see that while their order may not be a product of an architect’s designs, they were governed by rules of social order structured around caste, occupation, class and social background. Havelis of the same clan were built together and often connected.
Further, each mohalla is organised around a central space, the chowk. The chowks serve as a social space for community gatherings and commercial purposes. The largest chowk, Bazaar Chowk, is located outside a dargah. Because of its proximity to the dargah, the largest concentration of commercial activity is here, with streets filled with shops selling daily needs items, vegetable markets and eateries. Another prominent chowk is the ‘Surela Kuan’, deriving its name from the well of ‘sweet water’ located here. Today, the chowk is used to park cars.
The traditional layout of the village with its mohallas and chowks not only reflects the diverse range of communities that call Chirag Dilli home but also highlights the importance of community and social interaction in the daily lives of its residents. Here, the public space of chowks blends into the private residences built as havelis.
Hitendra Kaushik is a fifth-generation occupant of one of the oldest havelis here. His haveli features a prominent doorway and raised platforms on the sides engraved with peacock motifs and the sun, symbols of prosperity and well-being. This is followed by a smaller courtyard (or verandah, colloquially called baramdah) and a baithak. Just above the main gateway are intricately carved balconies, which according to him were used by women of the family to look onto the street while observing purdah. The outer veranda and baithak were otherwise formal or masculine spaces, followed by a bigger inner courtyard and family rooms.
Roaming around the haveli, now occupied by over six families, its secret features come as a shock. Kaushik’s haveli and several others have mysterious basements; all of them are now locked with a wall blocking the staircases that lead to them. According to Kaushik, the basements are connected to the Tughlakabad Fort and were made to provide a safe escape route in case of an attack. He says one of his great-grandfathers attempted to go into the basement and never returned. Since then, the family decided to lock the basement.
It is now almost impossible to venture into these secret vaults without professional assistance as they have accumulated poisonous gases over several decades. In one such haveli, a preschool is run next to the locked entrance of the vault and the basement is the source of several stories of djinns and ghosts among the children.
One of the best-maintained havelis in Chirag Dilli belongs to the local MLA from the Aam Aadmi Party, Saurabh Bhardwaj, who lives in a beautiful lime-coloured structure constructed around 1925. According to Dharampal Bharadwaj (79), Saurabh’s uncle, the haveli displays Rajput and British design elements.
At the entrance to the house is a magnificent 7 ft-high door made with pure Sheesham wood, flanked by large windows on both sides. The stone walls are 18-27 inches thick, which helps regulate the temperature inside. Typically, the walls were constructed with rubble where irregular stones were held in place with a mortar of crushed bricks and slaked limestone. They were then plastered with a mixture of lime, sand, and water.
Some sections of this haveli, like several others, were built using Lakhori bricks, which became popular during the 19th century. These bricks were made from a mixture of clay, sand, and water and were moulded and fired in a kiln. They were known for their uniform size, strength, and durability, which made them ideal for building construction.
Dharampal explains that the thick walls also have niches within them designed to store valuables. “Modern-day walls are only 4-9 inches and thus do not last long. These walls were built to last. Forests surrounded the village, and thus, safety was a big concern. No one can get past these walls. If you notice the doors, the frames are drilled into the stone so a thief would be unable to breach the door even if he tried,” he says.
In the baithak, which has two entrances – one that opens onto the street and one into the family area – there are hooks on the roof. Dharampal points out that these hooks held up a cloth fan that was operated with a pulley by an attendant. The roof is supported with Sheesham wood ‘Kadi Tukdi’. This style was popular before the cemented roofs that used iron lintels. While the ‘Kadi Tukdi’ style cannot support multiple floors, it lends a certain beauty to the rooms. Though the haveli appears narrow at the entrance, it widens from the central courtyard with family rooms on all sides.
The harmonious balance of the ancient and the modern is noticeable upon entering the courtyard. The sounds of street hawkers, children playing in the courtyard and the humming of the washing machine blends seamlessly. The family has managed to keep the structure’s old-world charm intact while incorporating modern amenities like electrical wiring and plumbing to make it liveable. The result is a unique blend of tradition and modern comfort. Despite the lure of modern housing that offers amenities such as lifts and ample parking, families such as the Bharadwajs have chosen to live in their ancestral havelis and preserve their cultural heritage.
Despite its rich history and stunning architecture, the fate of the havelis in the city and Chirag Dilli is uncertain. Many large havelis have fallen into disrepair, with neglect and a lack of maintenance taking a toll. Some have been divided between successive generations and now house several families, leading to overcrowding and further neglect. Others have been abandoned or rented out, with little consideration for their preservation.
The roof of the baithak of Kaushik’s haveli collapsed several years ago but has not been repaired. What must have been a grand entrance hall now lies in shambles. Several families of tenants live in the dilapidated structure, risking their lives.
Author Rana Safvi in her book ‘Shahjahanabad: The Living City of Old Delhi’ documents several havelis in the old city (such as Namak Haram ki Haveli, Sir Saayid Ahmad Khan ki Haveli, Mahabat Khan ki Haveli etc) and highlights the decaying state of what would have been houses of prominent nobles and princes. Once again, most havelis have been “destroyed, partitioned, built upon or reduced to warehouses”. She argues that the city has been reduced to a commercial centre, and most old families have moved out.
Moreover, the demands of the 21st century have made it difficult for these old buildings to keep pace. People are now demolishing these heritage structures to make way for multi-storey buildings. Since the residential havelis of Chirag Dilli (or any other area in the city) do not come under any government protection authority, private owners bear the brunt of the responsibility to preserve these structures. Most of them lack the financial support and expertise to maintain their homes.
Satpal Singh (25), a resident of Shahpur Jat, says, “My family home was in a bad state. The wood was rotting. We saw how profitable renting out workshops for weavers was in this area, so last year we demolished the house and we are making a four-storey building. If the government wants to preserve our homes as important heritage structures, they need to make people aware and give us some financial support.”
The desire for increased rental incomes and better living conditions has driven this shift. It’s a race against time to preserve the fading glory of the havelis in dense neighbourhoods like Chirag Dilli and Shahpur Jat. The neglect of these private residences, a crucial part of the city’s heritage, highlights the need for a comprehensive heritage preservation policy or incentives.
According to historian and author Swapna Liddle, current policies lack a comprehensive vision and effective implementation. She argues, “Heritage buildings such as havelis cannot be seen in isolation but should be preserved as part of a heritage area. This would aid in rescuing heritage precincts such as Shahjahanabad and Chirag Dilli from neglect and foster their development as sustainable residential, cultural and tourism areas.”
Liddle says the current monument-centric approach is limiting as it overlooks the interrelatedness of different buildings and landscapes. Furthermore, the government needs to aid owners through financial incentives that would help them view their heritage as assets, not a liability. A comprehensive policy framework is necessary to provide the necessary support, resources, and incentives for preserving these sites, ensuring their sustained protection for future generations.
Kamla (65), who lives in a partially renovated haveli in Chirag Dilli, summarises the decaying state of these erstwhile mansions aptly. “Ab hamari sunta hi kaun hai. Ye haveli aur hum dono purane hain, aur shayad bojh bhi (Who listens to us nowadays? Both this haveli and I are old, and perhaps a burden also).”
