I've been going to Nizamuddin for almost a week now. Not for work, but for food. I found a place called Ghalib Kebab Corner (located a stone's throw away from where Ghalib's remains rest) which serves amazing kebabs at the cheapest rates possible in Delhi. I'd also heard of a Ghalib Academy there. Decided to check it out yesterday.
To my surprise, it was quite well-maintained (for a sarkari building). There was a vendor of books in the atrium whose collection was well beyond Diwan-e-Ghalib. It included Faiz, Majaaz Lucknavi, Josh Malihabadi, Akhtar Sheerani etc. All available for 60-80 bucks each. Being the perpetually tapped-out-of-cash one, I'd to satisfy my Urdu poetry leanings with Diwan-e-Ghalib. The next visit was three floors up, the Ghalib museum. The museum was rather disappointing except for pictures of Delhi from the 19th century and some letters penned in Ghalib's time, the ink as fresh as the day the quill moved across the paper 160-170 years ago.
What really caught my eye was the Notice board. There were Persian classes (conducted by the embassy of Iran), Urdu classes (conducted by various institutions), courses on Urdu literature and poetry, and random mushayras. It was a crude reminder of how much we've lost by going to law school. It reminded me very acutely that I hadn't read more than 8-9 books over the past 1.5 years, which is a saddening thought. What really happened? was it the urge to succeed in law school? was it the urge to beat others? whatever it was, it has effectively managed to kill a lot of me (and I believe, a lot of us). I once blogged about how I wished that the person who blogs 5 years down the line should not be entirely unrecognizable from the me pre-Nalsar. I'm not so sure if that is true, and there are still 3.5 years to go.