"Buland Masjid was different. In a way, it chose me,” reflects Chitvan Gill, documentary photographer, filmmaker, and writer, who has extensively explored social and developmental issues in urban spaces.
“While I was working on my film Take Me to the River, on the 22-kilometre stretch of the Yamuna in Delhi, I came to the old ghats along the Nigambodh Ghat.One day, we were caught in a storm and forced to abandon our usual route. As we detoured, we crossed the Loha Pul (the old Iron Bridge) towards Shastri Park, eventually turning into a street running along Buland Masjid. The sky had turned almost black; it was like darkness at noon, and to the left of the road was this melee of butchers’ shops, little dhabas, scrap dealers, and other small enterprises, all crammed together. There was a peculiar energy emanating from this chaos,” she recollects.
This chance encounter would later culminate in Dreaming of Paradise (Seagull Books), a deeply personal narrative of the lives and stories etched into this pocket of Delhi.
Making their fate
The book introduces us to individuals like Mohammad Zafar, who migrated from Moradabad and transformed the marshland near the Yamuna into a sanctuary for thousands of migrants. There is Rizwan Bijnori, the dhaba owner; Shabana, who runs a tikka stall; and Hare Baba, originally from Kolkata. Anchoring the community is Haji Aneesuddin, “the one who knows how to get things done,” and Maqsood, who had to abandon his studies due to being Muslim but now works to promote social welfare and awareness.
“I found that these were men who created exceptional lives out of extraordinarily adverse circumstances,” says Gill. As Maqsood explains, “You will find many stories such as mine all over the city. We make our own fate. Some never live to tell their tale; I survived. I found a home.”
Thousands of migrants flood the city every year, struggling to carve out lives like Haji and Maqsood. Through Gill’s portrayal, we see how residents of Buland Masjid, unified by their resilience, find “home” in unexpected places. Despite linguistic, cultural, and regional divides, the community’s shared experiences overshadow differences. “It never struck us that we are living in a place dominated by Muslims,” remarks one of the few Hindu residents.
For Buland Masjid residents, viewing others as “different” is a privilege reserved for the wealthy. But recent political changes, like the revocation of Article 370, The Citizenship Amendment Act, communal riots, and discriminatory policies, have introduced an undercurrent of fear that spans across neighbourhoods of Delhi. “We can’t talk. Don’t come here. They will take us away,” residents of Buland Masjid now tell Gill.
Against urban apathy
A major critique woven throughout Dreaming of Paradise is Gill’s assessment of Delhi’s urban policies and the neglect faced by unauthorised colonies like Buland Masjid. Spread across 8.5 acres, Buland Masjid is only one of Delhi’s 1,797 unauthorised settlements, challenging the city’s “smart” urban planning rhetoric. Gill’s frustration is clear as she describes how the DDA has failed to address the housing crisis in low-income areas.
“In 1961, the DDA was handed over 19,190 hectares for residential development, but by 2011, it hadn’t built houses on even half that land,” she notes. Her critique exposes the limits of urban planning, revealing how ‘smart city’ initiatives often cater to the privileged, leaving the poor to fend for themselves.
She provides a global perspective, drawing parallels between Delhi’s informal settlements and similar settlements worldwide. She paints a picture of shared resilience among these settlement dwellers and highlights systemic forces that make their lives precarious.
“Unauthorised colonies are either glorified as centres of hope or dismissed as urban blight. Their residents are ‘squatters,’ viewed as criminals. Buland Masjid is seen within both these stereotypes. But the reality is that these are ordinary people trying to live in and cope with extraordinarily adverse circumstances.”
Outsider’s insight
Her journey with Buland Masjid began with photography. “Initially, people were somewhat bemused by my repeated visits, seeing me roaming around the galis. Soon, though, they started greeting me, keen to share their stories and voice their concerns about the neglect their colony faces,” she says. From these interactions, she wove voices and experiences into a narrative enriched with references to writers like Darwin and Naipaul. “The imagery, analogies, and quotations in the book come from writers who have influenced my thinking over a lifetime as an avid reader.”
Aware of her position as an outsider, Gill consciously navigated these spaces with respect for her subjects. “As a writer, it is your job to try to forget your own identity, even though privilege is inescapable. But it can either enable or obstruct access.” Trust-building became key. “The sheer length of time I spent in my interactions overcame any issues of trust and privacy. They welcomed me into their homes, their places of work, and of worship—they wanted their stories told.” She adds, “I did not meet with any ethical dilemmas in the process. It would have been unethical, in fact, to have entered such a space and remained silent about what I saw and recorded there.”
In Dreaming of Paradise, Gill positions herself as both witness and advocate, though she insists her primary role is that of a chronicler. She hopes the stories of Buland Masjid will resonate with readers beyond academic circles, offering a nuanced view of urban slums and informal settlements that are often dismissed or romanticised.
Despite its empathy and evocative prose, Dreaming of Paradise is not without its critiques. At times, Gill’s narrative lapses into the very romanticised view of hardship that it is trying to forego. Additionally, a sense of inevitability pervades the narrative, which may leave readers feeling despondent rather than galvanising them towards advocacy or reform. Ultimately, Gill’s work is a call for empathy, inviting readers to see the residents of Buland Masjid not as “others” but as people navigating complex lives in a city that often overlooks them.