Clicking Delhi, pre-Instagram

Delhi's past, captured in old photos, reveals a city transformed, yet echoes a world of loss and change, hidden in the memories of its residents.

One of the ways of studying the capital’s recent past

The images show evocative depictions of Delhi’s monuments and streets, but hardly any Delhi walla can be spotted on them.

150 years ago, in 1875, Old Delhi’s Jama Masjid was snapped by German photographer John Edward Sache. On the photos, the 17th century monument looks completely empty. So do its surroundings. Today, the same spaces are always packed with people, so much so that the landscape captured in the photos look utterly unrecognisable.

Like any living place, Delhi has recast its character many times over. The old photos of the city show what has changed and what hasn’t. The best of these images came out of a Walled City establishment that no longer exists. In the early decades of the twentieth century, the photo studio of H.A. Mirza & Sons in Chandni Chowk’s Faiz Bazar produced a series of postcards showing the capital’s monuments. The cards were photographed in Delhi and printed in Germany. The images show evocative depictions of Delhi’s monuments and streets, but hardly any Delhi walla can be spotted on them. That said, each photo has the symmetrical harmony of a Persian garden, everything looking so assuredly in place that the viewer feels this world would last forever.

Yet, these images belong to a severely unstable world. Delhi was still recovering from the 1857 uprising against the British that had led to the fall of the Mughals and the massacre of thousands of Delhiwallas. The imminent partition of India would again transform the city. These postcard photos might accurately render the Dilli of a certain moment, but they inadvertently suggest deception, in the light of what we know.

Moreover, it is frustrating that Instagram didn’t exist in that decisive era. There’s little visual record of the ordinary Delhiwale—their homes, dresses, and the other details of their daily realities, including the mohalla shops and bazar lanes. Some time ago, this reporter discovered an early twentieth century portrait belonging to the family album of an Old Delhi resident. The fragile print is partly torn and has yellowed over time, but the people in it are clearly visible. The bearded man in the centre is in a striped sherwani and a turki topi. Seeming assured about the longevity of his world, his hands are placed on his laps. In his great novel, French author Marcel Proust wrote, “The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object...” By that logic, this regal figure, frozen in time, does conceal the spirit of Delhi’s lapsed past.