I had heard the stories about Jamali Kamali Mosque and Tomb (Jamali Kamali in short) long before I decided to go. Whispers of jinns lingering in its corridors. Accounts of people feeling invisible hands push them. Security guards who refused to stay alone after dusk because of the slaps from the unseen hands and the whispers… The internet, of course, had done its bit, dramatic thumbnails, ominous background scores, exaggerated testimonies and more.As a travel writer, I have learned that rumours travel faster than facts. Still, curiosity has a way of tugging at the sleeves of reason. And so one pale Delhi winter afternoon, I found myself walking through Mehrauli Archaeological Park, determined to meet the jinns, or at least the truth.The park was unusually quiet. Delhi traffic roared somewhere in the distance, but inside the complex, time felt suspended. The eerie stillness felt quite strange. Dry leaves crackled under my shoes. There were no tourist groups. No school children on excursions. Just me for a visitor, a disinterested guard, 4 squirrels, a peafowl and the winter chill. Built in the 16th century during the reign of the Sikandar Lodi and later associated with the Mughal period, the mosque and tomb are named after the Sufi saint Jamali and a figure known as Kamali. There are several theories about who Kamali was…a disciple, a companion, a beloved, whatever it was, history kept its secrets politely folded.The real mystery, however, is modern. Read on.
Inside Jamali Kamali
I stepped inside the famous “haunted” Jamali Kamali, half-expecting something dramatic. Was I expecting a sudden gust of wind? We’ll never know. Anyway, I was greeted by stillness.The mosque courtyard lay open under the sky, framed by elegant arches. The red sandstone glowed warmly, with traces of intricate carvings here and there. But why were some of the walls black? They almost looked charred. Did someone lit a bonfire? I shook my head disapprovingly at nobody, the universe perhaps. Then all of a sudden I heard a sound, a movement. I simply stood there. Not frozen with fear, but because of two squirrels who were the source of that sudden sound. If jinns were present that day, they were extremely subtle.Further in, the tomb chamber held a different kind of silence, thicker, heavier, but not menacing. The air was cool. My footsteps echoed more than I expected, and I suddenly became conscious of how alone I was. No visitors whispering in awe. No incessant clicks of the cameras. Just an expansive quiet that allowed the smallest sounds to grow large.I sat on the cool stone floor and let the silence settle into me.
Jamali Kamali Tomb
The centuries old walls bore scars. Names scratched into plaster. Hearts pierced with arrows. Declarations of love carved crudely into stone that had survived empires…I came in search of jinns, but the haunting was disappointing and of a different kind.I traced one of the inscriptions with my fingers, feeling the uneven grooves. Lovers had left behind proclamations of devotion that would likely outlast their relationships. Just then it dawned on me: There was irony in this. People were so afraid of jinns in a place where the real vandalism was done by the living.I will admit, there was a part of me waiting. Waiting for the urban legend to come out and play. But it’s safe to say that nothing scary happened that day. However, the longer I stayed, the more the place unfolded, not as haunted, but as heartbreakingly beautiful. There was something profoundly human about Jamali Kamali. It was built for prayer, for reflection, for love, whether spiritual or otherwise. It had witnessed devotion, conquest, neglect, and now, superstition. If jinns do exist, I thought, perhaps they are simply memories.This old monument was reduced to clickbait, its silence misinterpreted as menace. I will never know the full truth behind the tales. Folklore has its own life, you see. Perhaps someone once experienced something they could not explain. Perhaps imagination filled in the gaps.But on that particular day, Jamali Kamali was not haunted. It was serene, and to be honest, quite unremarkable yet beautiful.
