Jama Masjid: Illuminated in Iftar fervour

Decked like a bride, with garlands of glittering lights wrapped around her ensemble, she stands tall and bright as hundreds horde towards her before breaking the day long fast. Iftar at Jama Masjid is a treat for the uninitiated, for whom Old Delhi stands only as a symbol of what the city was, what it is not, what it will never again be. At sunset, a walk down the lane adjacent to Meena Bazaar and Jama Masjid one is greeted with a line of shops, each selling paraphernalia particular to the holy time of Ramadan. While the festival is one; its antiques, many.

Just as you cross the newly constructed Jama Masjid Metro station on your left, on your right is an organized line of shops selling everything – from raw chicken to Lucknowi chikan. The holy month of Ramadan, is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, observed as a holy month by Muslims across the globe, to commemorate the first revelation of the Quran to Prophet Mohammed. The fast is a rigorous test of one's potential, to cleanse the mind and the body of impurity, to test perseverance and the power of unflinching devotion. The day begins with a meal before sunrise, which is followed by an entire day of fasting- where the staunch are even prohibited from swallowing their own saliva, it all ends with a meal after sunset.

After 7pm, when the Delhi sun finally decides to dip, hundreds gather at Jama Masjid to partake in the festivities that are held both inside and outside the complex. While inside, lines of people are welcomed to break their fast without having to shed a penny, outside, the shops provide a repertoire of delicacies – from fruits, to sweets, to the lip smacking kebabs and biryanis which have been the pride of the Nawabs. "My favourite Iftar dish is Sevaiyah (Semolina pancakes), the ones we get here at Jama Masjid are lip-smacking," said Raheem, a beaming 10-year old from Daryaganj who was accompanied by his father, who looked almost exhausted at fulfilling his son's eager demands. "One day he likes Sevaiyah, and the next day he wants Biryani. But that's what festivals are for; and this is what children will do," said the exhausted but nevertheless complying father of young Raheem.

"We do not observe the fast because we have to; it is because we want to. It is our token of love to Allah," says Ruhani, an enthusiastic 17-year old, who has been visiting Jama Masjid with her family since the tender age of 10. Wasim a rickshaw puller in his 40s visits the Masjid after an entire day of toiling in the sun, "It (the fast) does not make me weak, it makes me work harder, this is the time I prove my devotion, I struggle through the day to come here in the evening and finally take a bite. But I will not lie, I do relish that first sip of Shikanji," he said, breaking out in an almost child-like laughter.

While the austerities of devotion are contested across the world, what we miss is how there is a parallel and immediate journey back to an innocent phase of naivety. Whether Chistmas, or Durga Puja, Navratri or Ramadan, festivities glorify a phase of nonchalance which has to be otherwise masked in the adult world, where the real austerity thrives.

Walking down the lane at Jama Masjid, you will be welcomed by an exciting aura of differences – aromas of beautifully cooked food- somewhere there are kebabs being roasted, elsewhere tea being freshly brewed; move forward and you will hear faint whisperings of a variety of languages- some speaking in hushed Urdu, others ranting in crisp Persian, still others in confused English; and then of course you will see honest devotees in well ironed white kurtas, eager tourists with dangling DSLR-s, and rushing journalists with a paper and pen.

Who said India cannot thrive in diversity?