Letter to my Father's City
- connect2783
- Oct 2
- 9 min read
Special Mention-English, Writing Contest 2025
By Vibhuthi Bhardwaj
City: Aligarh, Uttar Pradesh
Description: This letter is a heartfelt reflection on the author's complex relationship with Aligarh, her father’s city. As the title refelects, she reminisces the difference in how her father experienced the city and how she inherited the same through the comfort of familiarity, nostalgia of memories and belonging through its street names, food, and history. Through this letter she shares here thoughts and feelings about identity, belonging, and change—ultimately seeing Aligarh as a starting point, in her life's long journey, in contrast to her father's end-point.
I was born in this city and have known it for the longest time through my extended family, who live at an average distance of hardly 5 km from each other. If I was to point out the first thing that it reminds me of, it is the sense of familiarity this sheher represents in my father's life, which has been carefully poured into our lives. Yet surprisingly, I have never wanted to call it my city. Rather, I am more comfortable with the idea that it can be borrowed from my father temporarily when I need to rely upon the small-town characteristics of comfort it brings, i.e., there is seldom a face utterly unknown. It is where I have heard stories that led me to understand what I would not want in my future, all while
struggling to maintain a space of love due to what it has provided for my father. Now, for the first time, I feel ready to let go of my father being the middleman and have a conversation with this city as a
25-year-old woman who came back to take a break but finds herself stuck in her ‘hometown.’
Dear Aligarh,
I only know the routes I have frequently taken since childhood and it feels inappropriate to seek help from Google Maps to find my way around you. Honestly, I do not even remember the names of the colonies I have crossed to reach Center Point on a rainy day for a repeat order of half-plate chili potatoes and veg steamed momos or for the infamous kachori sabzi as the official breakfast you have
been serving for decades. The place of preference for this breakfast differs with generations, where for
me it is Moolchand but for my father and his brothers it is somewhere in the old city that lies beyond
the lined demarcation of the railway station and hence also referred to as broadly Railway Road area.
Instead of knowing the actual names of the roads and the markets, I know them through the activities, food, and people they are known for.
Also, there is no need to remember the pathways and names since you have survived for the longest time without any public transportation. I don’t need to remember which metro station I must get off at for my childhood friend’s house. I don’t need to enter a specific address in an app to take a cab to the market with my mother. And neither does my mother know them all. Only the ones we have been associated with, through a purpose - Ghar (home) and Bazaar (market).
Regardless of our lack of curiosity over comfort, you do present interesting nomenclature peeking
through the layers of historical relevance attached to you. From Thandi Sadak in the tree-lined campus of Aligarh Muslim University to Mamu Bhanja in the middle of the most chaotic and oldest market, it pops questions into my head about the lives you have lived. How your character overlaps the old sheher with the attempt to be a smart city shows one is always a work in progress. And beyond the obvious but stark comparison you might face with your contemporaries in terms of capabilities or
opportunities, it is your character that is intrinsic to your existence.
Old city often identified as ‘sheher’ by the native local population confines the earliest settlements for
your formation as a city. The narrow pattern of streets designed to accumulate lesser population size in
the past now provokes unregulated traffic and unplanned bazaar, essentially culminating into a cluttered space. Home to the oldest traders, the Railway Road market crossed paths with the oldest trade routes which explains the presence of Sarai(s) in the vicinity. The widest lane in the market, known as Railway Road due to its close proximity to the Railway Station, was formerly called Thandi Sadak. This name came about because the trade involved transporting salt from Uperkot, which is
situated at a higher elevation. As a result, laborers often spilled salt along the way, keeping the road cool even on warm days. Interestingly, there is a twin to this road located near the AMU circle, sharing
the same name but for a different reason. This particular avenue is lined with trees that provide a
canopy, preventing the sun from heating the surface and turning it into a garam road.
Old markets situated within countless gullies amalgamate and represent a mix of distinct smells and
sounds from spice market to fish market and utensil market to repair shops although the Soundscape of chaotic character remains constant throughout. Intersections in the shape of ‘chowks’ appear frequently where the soundscapes are magnified and also intensified. Barahdwari exemplifies one such ‘sui-generis’ intersection which cuts into 12 different paths as the name itself suggests.
Similar historical relevance finds an extension when considering the nomenclature around numerous lanes of the bazaars, each peculiar in its function and yet clustered together to bring out a situation of contrast.
Urdu vocabulary stands apparent in names of bazaars repeatedly ending with ‘-Ganj’ such as
Kanwariganj, Mahaveerganj, Jaiganj, or Rasalganj where Mahaveerganj acquires its name from early
settlements meant for soldiers - symbolizing ‘veer’- in the area during mid 20th century while Rasalganj comes from ‘Russel’ a foreign collector employed here during early 19th century. Isn't your history documented in the architecture and infrastructure of the old ‘Sheher’ and ‘Bazaar’ dotted with
diverse lanes and nodes bearing an equally diverse and striking vocabulary? Tracing the unusual yet intriguing examples, sheher even consists of places such as Hathi Pul – the bridge that could fit an elephant as a mode of transportation in older times and Kutta ki Kabar – grave of a beloved dog, all hinting towards a Mughal touch that remains intact and complements the Jama Masjid standing in the
centre of the bazaar. And despite this intricate richness of culture you hold in this portion, it is the
Chole Bhaturey that I remember on my good days and bad ones. I can still picture my father rushing
home with a steaming plate of Chole Bhature, making sure it stayed warm and didn’t pick up the chill
of the road on the way.
Honestly, food is the only tradition that we truly embrace here; it's the most enjoyable aspect, far beyond the mosquitoes (macchar), tangled drainage (naale), and locks (taale) you're known for.
But everything is subjected to change and eventually breached by the contributions of external
influences in this case colonialism which introduced the railway line and civil line areas leading to the
segmentation of the city. These segmentations are still visible and delineated as the old and new parts
of the city. Our family has gradually transitioned from the older areas to the newer ones as the latter
feature better planning, with spacious pathways and a clearer urban layout, making them more ideal
for living over time. In contrast to the old city, the boundaries between residential and commercial
spaces in the areas affected by post-colonial urban development are much more distinct and prominent. Ramghat Road, acting as the principal means of connectivity in the city is lined with grocery shops, eateries, hospitals, and the addition of global chain stores too in the recent past. Parallel to Ramghat Road runs Marris Road linking the university area with the central commercial area – Center Point.
Understanding the mechanism that shapes the remarkable transformation of an urban space is a crucial task while people go about their everyday routines passing by these changes on a daily basis yet not grasping the scale of this change till they stop and look around.
Living in their own city for their whole lives gives the people an undoubted deeper sense of understanding the city but also the commonness of places in their eyes restricts them from expecting and acknowledging the impacts of contemporary urban phenomena on their city’s distinct sections.
Zooming out of the nomenclature, intersections, and overlaps, the area referred to as ‘Purana bazaar’ features a typical old city design encompassing proximity of people and places, lack of demarcations, sensitive history of communal outbreaks, and comparatively unplanned structure. Witnessing these prospects and factors molding the urbanism patterns, the inevitable case of ‘chaos’ in deciphering the imagery mosaic ultimately links the sense of urban with a dynamic and consistently transitional character. While you may seem like a regular conflict-ridden west Uttar Pradesh city stereotyped to change names after a certain political stance gains more recognition in a urdu nomenclature dominant city, yet you continue to be reflected every day through the people who carry within themselves the tastes you have offered, the learnings you have given and the hurdles you have helped them cross to eventually reach beyond and above you, apparently.
I am brazenfacedly aware how you were an end goal for the generation before me in my family but you are the starting point for me and nobody wants to sit around at the beginning, the beginning is cherished in the form of nostalgia it brings and the reminder it gives of how far one hath cometh.
Yes, sometimes, I do feel embarrassed at the ignorance from my end, mindlessly occupied with ghar
and bazaar, of history attached with you, the travelers you have accommodated, the trade routes you
have paved, and the educational milestones you have set for the country. I must agree to the
surface-level information I have gathered while working on postgraduation projects during the COVID lockdown but still it seems like a responsibility to gather all the details, the idiosyncratic ones, for a thorough understanding of your character. This disconnect becomes more pronounced when I compare my interactions to those of my father. The experiences you shared with him are so much richer, more intimate, and truly transformative, filled with themes of loss, gain, and human connection. In contrast, my own relationship with you feels flat and two-dimensional, lacking that depth and emotional richness, like I’ve only turned to you for resources that allow me to keep my distance. While I don't see you as my own, I've introduced you to everyone I've met as a close friend, a place where I belong until I find a more permanent home—if that's even possible. In fact, I must thank my graduation professor for truly listening to my presentation about you. Instead of sticking to the policy framework, I ended up discussing my complicated love-hate relationship that struck the realization of our connection, especially when she said she wanted to explore the same streets I mentioned—right alongside me. I've traveled to various cities and encountered reminders of you in each one, but there's only one place I can make it through a day without my phone—and that's you. Now that’s quite the compliment!
Building on this thought, I want to share the most significant lessons I've learned from you amidst the countless little insights that come with this persistent feeling of being stuck at the starting line:
Hold onto all your stories, as they serve as a roadmap that helps you understand yourself and how you connect with those around you.
What you might see as flaws in your journey could actually make you stronger, especially compared to those who have merely conformed to the typical idea of progress without embracing the willingness to learn, unlearn, and adapt. Life inevitably pushes you to compartmentalize in order to grow—and why not? It often feels like our existence is a series of events organized by priorities: work, home, and hobbies.
However, it’s crucial to remember the overlaps in these areas that form a complete picture. It's these connections that make us whole. Accepting your past is essential for building a future where transformation is key. Trends may come and go quickly, and the visuals may capture attention more than character. But just as bazaars become shopping centres, moving forward with intention should be accompanied by a remembrance of where we started.
And with that in mind, I hope you can find a way to write me a letter as well. Until then, keep me close, but don’t forget to let me go.
About the Author:
Vibhuthi Bhardwaj
Vibhuthi is a researcher, native to Aligarh and educated in Delhi, with a focus on geography and urban studies, consistently committed to the intersection of urban theory and practical application. She has worked with various organizations to promote urban inclusivity, address marginality, and review sustainability. Her work has been driven by a passion for exploring cities and fostering meaningful professional and personal connections. In her free time, she enjoys films, food, and has recently become an avid reader beyond academics.
Comments