Fly with me

My nose filled with dust, but this time it was from hundreds of years of old artefacts, manuscripts, paintings, clocks and sewing machines; not from the dust of new buildings under construction in Dubai or of the tiles being cut for a brick wall in our apartment.

I was in an antique shop called Khazana in the Hauz Khas village of Delhi. This was a shop I had visited in the past and returned now as I had my own place to furnish. Aptly located at the end of the village besides the crumbling structures of Feroze Shah’s tomb and madrasa dating to the 13th century, the shop was brimming with antiques. On and under the tables (to the extent that I couldn’t even see there were any tables) and on tiny pathways between walls, posters, paintings, gramophones and clocks.

One could either walk in and get entirely confused if anything sparks interest, or, spend a few hours browsing until they think “next time” or find two pieces that really catch their eye.

Well, since I was in Delhi for a good week, each time I went (at least five) I would put things aside, deciding to buy on my next visit. The two lovely ladies who worked there more often could not answer my questions — how old something was, who the artist might be — though they sometimes they knew which part of India the piece might belong to. However, I was in luck. On one of my visits, Satinder Sarna, whose family owns the business, appeared from Kaffeine, the café located above the shop. He was able to tell me bit more about some of the artefacts, though in most cases, it is difficult to date these things.

I guess, in a way, that made them even more mystical and magical and certainly more valuable.

I finally left with a manuscript, a clock and some paintings, and took pictures of pieces I wanted to buy on my next visit. Next to Khazana was All Arts, another antique-filled room. Here was a lady I had met on my last trip, fixing old jewellery. Perhaps next time, I thought to myself as I meandered through the artistic alleyways of this vibrant village on a Sunday evening.

Cafés and sophisticated restaurants were brimming with customers as clothes and handbags boutiques were closing for the day. On the few floors and buildings where a new shop hadn’t yet opened up, there were residents, going about their daily lives in this bustling enclave. I wandered into a small shop where the walls were lined with rolls of old sari borders.

A beautiful umbrella embroidered with mirror-work hung from a railing on my right while a sari blouse, that looked half a century old if not more, on my left. And while I was buying a couple of the antique borders, the man, whose passion was to restore and repair, told me that the popularity of this charming enclave of shops and eateries has not worked in their favour.

Hauz Khas is not what it used to be, and that it has become far too busy with young crowds in the evenings.

I wonder, then, if I should be revealing so much of this favourite place of mine, whether I should be telling you that I had some of the finest South Indian food I’ve ever tasted at a restaurant called Naivedyam here, that the super-cute Elma’s café on the first floor transports you to an English or French tea house (a word of warning — the aroma of the cakes is so intoxicating when you walk in, it will ensnare you into eating at least one), and that the view of the sunset from the balcony of La Boheme is unrivalled.

But I know that as a reader, I would be on the hunt for unique places, artistic finds and interesting shops. So, perhaps hiding such a wonderful place from you would be unethical. After all, it is my duty to share these things.

Follow Meera Ashish on www.talefourcities.com and @meeraashish and @talefourcities