Ghalib’s Delhi: The City Through a Poet’s Eyes – Delhipedia
Ghalib’s Delhi: The City Through a Poet’s Eyes

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Ghalib’s Delhi: The City Through a Poet’s Eyes

Mirza Ghalib’s poetry isn’t just literature — it’s the heartbeat of Old Delhi. His verses continue to whisper through the narrow lanes of Ballimaran, echoing off the old havelis, and lingering in the quiet corners of forgotten courtyards.

This week, as part of our Ghalib x Delhi series, we bring you a sher that feels like it was written for the city itself:

“Mehrbaan ho ke bula lo mujhe chaho jis waqt
Main gaya waqt nahin hoon ke phir aa bhi na sakoon”

(Translation: Call me with kindness whenever you desire;
I’m not time gone that I can’t return again.)

Ghalib’s Words, Delhi’s Soul

Ghalib’s relationship with Delhi was complex. He saw its glory — the grand Mughal durbars, the vibrant bazaars, the timeless poetry mehfils — and he also saw its collapse during the 1857 revolt. Yet, his poetry never turned away from Delhi. It carried the scent of the city’s chaos, love, and resilience.

This sher above speaks not just of longing, but of the undying presence — something Delhi knows all too well. Empires may fall, buildings may crumble, but stories, just like time, return.

Lines That Still Resonate in the City

“Zahr milta hi nahin mujhko sitamgar warna,
Kya kasam hai tere milne ki ke khaa bhi na sakoon?”

(Poison is never offered to me by the cruel beloved —
Or is it some vow of yours that I shouldn’t even be allowed to consume it?)

This is a city that breaks hearts as much as it makes them. In the old bylanes of Dilli 6, every broken wall and every tea shop has a tale of separation, loss, or unrequited love. And Ghalib — he captured that better than anyone else.

Where Ghalib Still Lives

Even today, you can visit Ghalib Ki Haveli in Ballimaran, Chandni Chowk. It’s more than a monument; it’s where his verses find their echo. The exposed bricks, the wooden arches, the fading ink on display — they all seem to whisper: Main gaya waqt nahin hoon…

Other places like Urdu Bazaar, Jama Masjid, and even random paan shops where shayari still flourishes — they carry Ghalib in their everyday rhythm.

Delhi Is Ghalib. Ghalib Is Delhi.

We often say cities have a mood. If Delhi had a mood board, Ghalib’s poetry would be at the center of it — romantic, rebellious, bitter, philosophical.

So next time you walk through the old lanes, pause and listen — to the hawkers, the azaan, the quiet breeze — and maybe, just maybe, Ghalib will speak to you.

Read More From Our Ghalib x Delhi Series:

  • “Walking with Ghalib: A Heritage Trail Through Ballimaran”

  • “Ghalib for Beginners: 5 Couplets That Still Hit Home”

  • “Why Delhi Still Finds Itself in Ghalib’s Words”