INDIA
CONTINENTAL
DRIFTER
Climbing
Jama Masjid
by Elliott
Hester
Made entirely of red sandstone and white marble, Masjid-i-Jahan
Numa, or Jama Masjid as it is commonly called, is India’s
largest and most impressive mosque. The massive house of worship
is nearly as long as a football field. Red sandstone walls surround
a courtyard large enough to accommodate up to 25,000 worshippers.
The mosque, which sits at the rear of the courtyard, is adorned
by three huge onion-shaped domes that squat imperiously upon the
roof.
 Commissioned by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and completed in
1656, Jama Masjid boasts two 130-foot-high minarets. Aside from
a copy of the Qur’an which is written on deer skin and kept
in a closet near the north gate, the minarets are among the most
interesting aspects of the mosque.
Only one minaret was open to the public during my visit. Guests
were allowed to climb the 130 stone steps leading to a tiny observation
deck. It is from here that the mosque lives up to its name. Loosely
translated, Masjid-i-Jahan Numa means “the mosque commanding
a view of the world.”
As hundreds had done before me, I removed my sandals and left them
among the heap of shoes at the top of the steps leading to one
of Jama Masjid’s three grand gateways. Barefoot, I began
the trek across the massive courtyard. But the hot afternoon sun
was unkind to naked feet. After a few hasty steps, my soles were
set ablaze by the smoldering sandstone surface. I jumped backward
instinctively, landing on the toes of a British tourist who was
too polite, or perhaps too reverent, to scream. She apologized
even before I could.
Looking out at the sprawling courtyard, I noticed that a long,
narrow tarp -- a poor man’s red carpet, if you will -- had
been haphazardly laid across the scorching surface. The tarp began
a few feet inside the courtyard, angled toward the middle, turned
left and then zigzagged to the far side. It ended abruptly in places,
only to begin again a few feet later. At these gaps, sock-less
visitors were required to take a leap of faith, which, depending
on individual luck or athleticism, might spare the leaper from
the scorching sandstone floor.
I made it to the far side of the courtyard and stood before the
mosque. Beyond the open arched colonnades, the mosque floor is
ornamented with a black and white marble motif. The rectangular
shapes -- the approximate size and shape of a Muslim prayer mat
-- repeat 899 times, indicating the number of spaces for worshippers.
The minarets flank the mosque and rise high above its domed roof.
I climbed up to a terrace where an elderly ticket collector sat
in a shaded corner. Dressed in a white gown, he beckoned me with
one outstretched hand. He took my ticket and pointed a finger toward
the base of the minaret.
I walked through the doorway. After a few tentative steps up the
twisting staircase, I became shrouded in darkness. The spiral staircase
proved to be extremely steep. The turns were so tight, I used one
hand for balance against the curving tower wall and the other to
feel for higher steps that rose not far from my face. The air,
clogged by the musty sent of ages, made me feel as though I had
traveled back in time.
I climbed higher. The dark claustrophobic interior occasionally
gave way to light from a paneless window cut from the thick stone
wall. When I finally reached the top, I took a big gulp of air
and stepped onto a small circular platform that was occupied by
a young Indian family. A man. His wife. Two small children. They
sat quietly on the platform, having already feasted on the view.
From atop the minaret Old Delhi spread out like a fairy tale. Beyond
the bulging domes of the mosque, thousands of white buildings spread
for as far as my eyes could see. The scene may have changed little
in the 350 years since the mosque was built.
In the opposite direction lay the Red Fort, the 17th-century imperial
palace of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. Red sandstone walls surround
the fort for one and a half miles, rising in places to thirty-three
feet. A thirty-foot moat runs along the eastern edge of the fort.
On summer days, the moat is as dry and hot as Jama Masjid’s
impressive courtyard.
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