Quick Tips:

Also wear a comfy pair of shoes- you'll probably end up doing a lot of walking. And take that camera along- this area's fabulous for photographs.

Best Way To Get Around:

Take a taxi or an auto-rickshaw to get to the Red Fort, from where you can take a guided tour through the fort and then walk down to Chandni Chowk. Watch out for the traffic at the crossing between the Red Fort and the Chowk- it's lethal.

The icing on the cake (or the sohan-halwa?!) is the history behind Ghantewala. The shop’s been around since Mughal times, and how it got its name (`Ghantewala’ means `The Bell-wallah’) is a really quaint story. The more popular version is that the favourite elephant of one of the Mughal emperors developed such a fondness for the sweets of this particular sweetshop that it would come to a stop in front of the shop, and ring the bell around its neck till it was fed sweets. The more prosaic explanation lies in the fact that Ghantewala was once the purveyor to the Mughal court. Everyday, a load of sweets were sent for the court’s consumption, but if some were not consumed, they’d be sent back to the shop- which would then ring a bell to announce to the public that sweets fit for royalty were available for sale.

Whether you believe those stories or not, do sample their sweets.

Not too many of the shops in Parathewali Gali make parathas any more: most have switched over to selling saris instead. Those that do make parathas however do them brilliantly. The restaurants themselves are anything but impressive: trestle tables, benches and a none-too-impressive dining area are what you’ll find, but the stuff they serve up is fabulous. The parathas come stuffed with your choice of veggies- potato, cauliflower, peas, radish, lentils, cottage cheese, even crumbled poppadums- and with an accompanying bowl of yoghurt, a helping of salad (just sliced cucumbers, tomatoes and onions, more often than not), and pickle- all for less than Rs 50 for a very filling plateful.

Many of the paratha shops pride themselves on cooking the parathas in ghee; in fact, one of them even has a huge signboard at the door saying that they’ll pay Rs 1,000 to anybody who can prove that their parathas aren’t cooked in pure ghee!

Built between 1650-56 to function as the mosque for the Mughal Court, the masjid stands atop a plinth- the level’s high so that you look up to it in reverence, quite literally. When Shahjahan came here to pray every Friday, he’d enter along with a huge retinue through the Eastern Gate, but it’s kept locked nowadays, so you’ll have to go in by the side gate- and that’s an experience in itself. You come in through a high stone gate, and suddenly you’re in this massive courtyard, with the mosque towering up on your left. It has a façade of 11 arches, topped by three domes. All perfectly symmetrical, subtly decorated, and absolutely stunning.

You can wander around the mosque (not during namaz, obviously) but do take off your shoes. Leave them at the entrance- someone will be there to keep an eye on them- or you can carry them in your hand, provided you hold them with their soles touching each other (the logic is that the soles, which are unclean, should not face the sacred city of Mecca, which lies due west).

Entry's free, but you'll have to pay Rs 5 if you want to climb to the top of the minar (the tower) of the mosque. It's a climb of 122 steps- but the view is fabulous.

Built around 1570 by Humayun’s widow, the mausoleum’s a red sandstone edifice, decorated with geometric patterns and calligraphy in white and black marble and tan sandstone. Around it are a series of other interesting, but relatively insignificant tombs- of Humayun’s poorer relatives, sundry officers, and even (although this isn’t confirmed!)- Humayun’s barber, supposedly an important chap because he could actually hold a razor to the emperor’s throat. You have to keep such people buttered up with nicely-situated tombs and stuff like that.

Anyway, Humayun’s tomb is a splendid sight- more so because a massive restoration project has just been completed on it. The garden in which the tomb stands (a `charbagh’ is what it’s called- a square garden, with the tomb in the centre) is being spruced up too.

Tickets are $10 per person.

For those who think I’ve wandered way off course (this is a travel site, for pity’s sake, not a fairy tale page!)- take heart. Because this isn’t a fairytale; it actually happened, and just about three hundred years ago. The city was Shahjahanabad, the capital of the Mughal Emperor Shahjahan, better known for having built the splendid Taj Mahal; the princess was his daughter, Jahanara; and the canal, although it doesn’t exist any more, gave its name to the marketplace around it: Chandni Chowk- Moonlight Square. Shahjahan, Jahanara, and the stunning court which they once presided over, are now dead and gone- but Chandni Chowk lives on, minus the canal, minus the glamour of three centuries ago- but as busy, as interesting as ever.

Chandni Chowk stretches from the Red Fort, which once housed Shahjahan’s court, to the small mosque of Fatehpuri Masjid- a straight stretch of bazaar which has so many interesting landmarks scattered along its length that it could well take you two or three hours to explore the area. From the main street branch off numerous `galis’, `kuchas’ and `katras’- lanes and tiny squares, which in earlier times were demarcated on the basis of trade: the jewellers lived and traded in one katra, the cloth merchants in another, and so on. What’s really quaint about the whole thing is that katras still retain the name and to some extent the trade of their original occupants: Katra Neel (Indigo Square) is still dominated by dyers and textile merchants.

Chandni Chowk, in its heyday, was the domain of rich noblemen, Armenian and Turkish adventurers, Persian poets, Italian merchants; this was, after all, the home of one of the world’s wealthiest courts- scholars today estimate that it would take at least 14 years to accurately assess Shahjahan’s personal wealth. At that time, Chandni Chowk was a beautiful tree-lined street, swarming with coffee houses (an import from Persia, and with a very restricted clientele: only the very rich could afford the alien brew) and shops which sold everything from glass hookahs and Chinese eye-glasses to exquisite jewellery, cheetahs, greyhounds, eunuchs and midgets (!!!- this was the "exotic east", remember).

The wares, as you’ll notice on a walk through Chandni Chowk, have changed- but the mind-boggling variety can still dazzle you. Near the beginning of the street is a gorgeously fragrant flower market; and as you stroll down the length of Chandni Chowk, you’ll see its many faces: the razzle-dazzle of Dariba Kalan, the jewellers’ street; Kinari Bazaar, where every other shop sells wedding outfits, garlands threaded with fake rupee notes, theatrical costumes, masks and more; and Parathewali Gali, named for the sinfully rich bread which its many eateries have been selling since Shahjahan’s time.

Further down the road, between Gurudwara Sheeshganj and the Sunehari Masjid is the spot where the kotwali (the police station) stood in Mughal times- and where the modern-day police check-post still stands. Beyond, a short walk brings you to Ballimaran (The `Street of the Oarmakers’), a lane once known for the many famed physicians who lived here, and which is today crowded with opticians and spectacle-makers. Wander through Ballimaran, to the now-dilapidated mansion of one of India’s greatest Urdu poets, the 19th-century bard Mirza Ghalib (a man whose favourite tipple was French wine mixed with rosewater!).

Take your camera along when you go to Chandni Chowk (if you forget it, considering popping in at Kucha Chowdhury, a lane whose shops deal exclusively in cameras and photographic equipment); this is one part of Delhi which promises some of the best photographic opportunities in the capital. Thoroughly modern, but with its feet firmly entrenched in the past. Crowded and busy, yet with a leisurely pace when it comes to enjoying the good things in life- like a creamy cupful of cardamom-scented kulfi or a piping-hot paratha, served with a neat dollop of ghee, a bowlful of cool yoghurt and some tart lime pickle…

"Exotic"? You bet!