Visitors have been coming to meet me from eternity, even when I didn’t have a name. There are so many secrets that hide in my bosom, though some have been uncovered.

I am glad that Devanampriya (the beloved of Gods), Emperor Ashoka, also left his stamp on my soil, way back in 3BCE. The village of Bahapur near Sriniwaspuri only revealed this secret in 1966 through a contractor who was excavating in the area to source material for construction. I was very happy to let go of this one as it exhorted people to follow ‘Dhamma’ or the right path.

I would urge all the people of my land to visit it and learn from it. This edict shows that I was on a trade route even when no one knew my name.

Travellers came and went, but in the 8th century CE, Raja Anangpal Tomar founded his empire stretching from Lado Sarai to Mehrauli and its remains are still there in Lal Kot, Mehrauli. If you come to meet me there you can see Anangpal’s water reservoir and ruins from the later construction by the Delhi sultans. Oh! If only I could tell you stories of all the grandeur and beauty of this place. But never mind, I am getting maudlin, there’s so much to share with you.

But first, let me tell you about my name. Though there are references that I was named ‘Delu’ after the king of Kannauj in 50 BCE, I will keep that aside as archaeologists and historians have still to discover any solid reference for it.

I do know that I was called ‘Dhilli’ as a reference comes from 1132 CE from a hagiography of the 23rd Jain Tirthankar named Pasanahacariu, written by the Agravala Digambara poet, Sridhar. Sridhar refers to the “region of Hariyanau which has numerous villages, and whose inhabitants are ever happy, there is the large city called Dhilli, favoured by Indra.”

There are such interesting explanations for my name: as per legend, the Tomar king was told by his ministers that the serpent king, Vasaki, who supports the earth, was moving underground and if the king could drive a nail in its head and keep it firmly fixed there, he and his family would rule in perpetuity. A huge iron nail was prepared and after a puja, the priests struck it deep down in the earth. The priests did their work but the king was doubtful, and destiny had other things in store for me. He ordered the nail to be pulled out to show proof that it was indeed fixed on Vasaki’s head. He was adamant despite protests. The nail was removed and fresh blood was found on it. When he ordered it to be refixed, Vasaki had moved away, giving rise to the saying:

Killi tau dhilli bhayi

Tomar bhayaa mat hiin

(The pillar has become loose

The Tomar’s wish will not be fulfilled)

Did the dhilli killi (loose nail) give rise to my name?

R. Balasubramaniam, a metallurgical engineer who conducted extensive research on the Delhi Iron Pillar, says not. He surmised that it was originally from the Udaigiri caves in Madhya Pradesh, dating back to the reign of Chandragupta II (375-414 AD). He links its origin to the Vishnupadagiri site, significant for its association with Vishnu worship during the Gupta period. According to him, Sultan Iltutmish later relocated it to the Quwwat-ul-Islam mosque, a move supported by contemporary historian Minhaj us Siraj’s accounts of effigies taken to Delhi.

Of course, you can go and see this iron pillar in the Jami Masjid built by Qutubuddin Aibak. And don’t forget to admire the tallest ashlar masonry minar in the world at a height of 72.5 metres. In fact, walk across Mehrauli, the oldest region of mine which has been continuously inhabited from 8th CE. You will find the Sufi saint Khwaja Qutubuddin Bakhtiar Kaki’s dargah there and the Yogini Temple with its ancient peeth and stumble across tombs, dargahs and old havelis.

And yes, let me continue with my name. A few centuries later, I was being called ‘Dhillika’.

An inscription found in a well in Sarban in south Delhi, dated 1328 CE, refers to a city named ‘Dhillika’, founded by the Tomars. The hard ‘Dh’ was difficult for the new Turkish rulers and I soon became ‘Dehli’, lovingly called ‘Dilli’. If you study the changes in my name, you also understand the compulsions of language and pronunciation. When the British came, they found it difficult to pronounce ‘Dehli’ and I became Delhi.

You should visit me in the city of Siri, founded by Sultan Alauddin Khilji, which is now the fashionable Hauz Khas. Though most people drive there, I would urge you to walk past the various tombs on either side of the road, interestingly called Dadi Poti ka Maqbara, Sakri Gumti and Biran ka Gumbad. When the Mongols were ravaging Central Asia, so many scholars came to seek refuge in me and I became the dome of peace. This madrassa or educational institution was a premier institute of its age with the best teachers imparting knowledge. You can imagine how much the students would have loved learning about astronomy, logic, philosophy and mathematics in this very salubrious and picturesque surrounding.

If you have time, please do see the Chor Minar. People say Alauddin Khilji hung the heads of thieves from its holes, making for a gruesome sight and a warning for all to stay on the right path.

You should also visit my third city in Tughlaqabad built by Sultan Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq and see how well-built, strong constructions withstand the vicissitudes of time. It was built in 1351 CE but wasn’t inhabited for long. They say it was cursed by Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya:

Ya rahe ujar, yaa basse gujjar

(May it remain desolate and unoccupied

Or inhabited only by herdsmen.)

But that story for another time. I have so much to show you for after all, I was ruled by so many dynasties who beautified me with magnificent monuments.

Let me take you to Jahanpanah—the fourth city built on my land by Sultan Muhammad bin Tughlaq. You can see the Khirki mosque, majestic once, now forlorn and locked up. But I don’t want to talk of the destruction that I have endured, for I will feel sad. I still have so much to show you. Do visit the beautiful dargah of Sheikh Yusuf Qattal built in 1497 as a tomb for the saint. It is a “vermillion mark of spirituality on the surrounding area” that houses other dargahs.

You might think that I am peopled with tombs but I can explain that. The Lodi rulers were Afghans and under their tribal system, it wasn’t only the king but also the chiefs who could build their mausoleums. Oh! I saw such a thriving business in construction of tombs in those days. You will stumble over many old tombs and even graves when you walk in Lodi Garden and the Delhi Golf Club. This area was called Bagh-e-Jadd (Garden of Ancestors) because of the many tombs and graves.

Let me take you to a 14th-century citadel, the first city of mine to be built on the banks of the River Yamuna, to accommodate the growing population and its need for water. Today it is populated by more jinn saints than people. Once upon a time Sultan Firoz Shah, the first antiquarian king to rule Delhi, brought a stone pillar with some unintelligible dialect written on it from Tobra near present-day Ambala, and made a pyramidical building to house this heavy pillar. It was only in 1837 that James Prinsep, a renowned antiquarian, deciphered the Brahmi script and discovered that it wasn’t Bheem ki Lathi but an Ashokan edict.

If I take you along the old pathway Yamuna or Darya-e Jun, as the Mughals called it, I will lead you to Dinpanah, the city built by Emperor Humayun. Admire the octagonal Sher Mandal—once a library from which Humayun indulged his passion for astronomy and fell to his death while studying the planet Venus one night.

And of course, my beloved Shahjahanabad, the city constructed by Emperor Shah Jahan. The city with a moonlit square, the majestic Jama Masjid and the magnificent Red Fort. What stories I can tell you of how bravely my lovers fought for me in 1857 to free me from the clutches of the East India Company, and how after their defeat my beautiful city and fort were destroyed.

Oh! What beautiful buildings once populated this city, but you can still see the ruins and remnants. They are breathtaking.

My heart is full and I will take your leave now, but I await your visit with open arms...

(Views expressed are personal)

Rana Safvi is a historian, translator, author and blogger