There’s a saying that you can’t visit a place of pilgrimage unless the deity summons you. So very true! We’d been staying in New Delhi for five years, and had made several trips to Jaipur, but somehow a visit to the holy Dargah had not materialized. And then, all of a sudden, my parents were in town for a cousin’s wedding, we had two days in hand, and suddenly, in the last week of December, we were off to Ajmer Sharif.
As we approached Gurgaon, the fog had enveloped us, and we were literally crawling out of the city. But as the sun came out, our pace picked up, and as anyone who has travelled on the Delhi Jaipur highway will tell you, this road is meant for speed. We were definitely geared up for the 396 km drive. It took us around two hours to reach Behror, where we made the customary stop at the Midway Hotel for snacks and washrooms.
After that it was the highway, us, and oh yes, a lot of trucks and camel carts. Colorful pagdis dotted the countryside, as we crossed fields of mustard bathed a golden yellow in the warm winter sun. About 40 kms before Jaipur, the road forks out towards Ajmer. Just before, we stopped at a motel for lunch.
If the highway so far was good, this portion was thrilling. Our Opel Corsa cruised at 120km/hour, and with not too many cuts and turns, this stretch passed by amazingly smooth. We again took a tea break before Kishangarh. By evening, we were in Ajmer.
We drove towards the Delhi gate and saw “Hotel Regency” with a number of cars bearing Delhi number plates parked outside. And so in we went. This was definitely not a star hotel, but the rooms were neat and clean, and the staff very courteous. After freshening up, we decided to move towards the shrine of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti. Right in the hotel lobby, we met a caretaker of the shrine who asked us to hurry, so that we could witness the evening “roshni” or lighting of the lamps.
He guided us to the dargah and we bought ‘chadors” and rose petals to offer there. Leaving our mobile phones with the florist, a quick wash at the pools inside the dargah, and we were in the revered Durbar. And then, nothing else mattered. The crowds, the noisy stalls, everything got blurred. It was as if the Khwaja himself was beckoning to us. Women weren’t allowed inside at the time of “roshni” so we sat in the courtyard as the men entered the holy sanctum. Later we too went in to pay our respects. Our new friend presented us with some sacred threads and some candles that had been used for “roshni” previously. We accepted these with gratitude, and promised to be back in the holy Durbar again.