In narrow alleys of Old Delhi, one of the last mesaharatis carries on the tradition

New Delhi: In the stillness of the night, as the clock strikes 3, the narrow alleys of old Delhi’s Matia Mahal rouse themselves with each high-pitched wake-up call sounded by Nadeem, one of the last of the city’s mesaharatis.

During the holy month of Ramzan, Muslims wake up before dawn to prepare for a day of fast, or roza. The mesaharatis, or as locals of the Walled City call them, sehriwale, go from lane to lane beating a dhol and calling families by their names. Nadeem, however, doesn’t use the dhol any longer, saying he feels awkward using the drum.

Nadeem’s call to the elders of the homes by name serves as a gentle reminder for the people to rise and have the suhoor (pre-dawn meal), generally called sehri. “Yeh neki ka kaam hai. Meri wajah se logo ka roza safal ho jaata hai. Isse zyada aur kya chahiye?” asked a modest Nadeem, whose official name is Kalimuddin.

Nadeem, now 28 years old, has been a dawn caller since he was six. “My grandfather, Imamuddin, used to take me with him. My father, Alimuddin, didn’t, but doing this good deed fills me with contentment. I stopped after my grandfather died in 2004, but some years later, the people asked me to start the work again. I thought about it and realised there’s much more to it than waking the people up, so I decided to resume the tradition.”

The origin of the mesaharati tradition is disputed but historians date it back 600 years to the 15th century. Nadeem notes how things have changed. “People stay up late these days and rely on alarm clocks to wake them up” he murmured.

Being a mesaharati is not an easy task. One has to remember who lives where and on which floor. In the lanes of Matia Mahal, more families live in a building than the number of floors it has. “I go around the streets calling the names twice, first at 3am and then at 4.15am. The first reminder is to wake up and start cooking, the second to be done with eating,” said Nadeem. “I also have my job in the daytime, so this allows me only 3-4 hours of sleep during the Ramzan month.” He obviously revels in the toil that comes with being a mesaharati.

Digital clocks and mobile phones have almost rendered the mesaharati tradition obsolete. Today, the dawn caller is so rare that when TOI contacted the office of the imam of Jama Masjid, it couldn’t confirm the name of even one. So asked about his motivation, Nadeem brightly smiled and said, “I still do it because it makes me happy. Sometimes the neighbourhood kids join me and the smile on their faces makes it worth it. Sometimes people tell me that I helped them wake up and they thank me.”

Once popular for his cricketing skills in the neighbourhood, Nadeem is now known for holy work. And his way of making the wakeup call is different from other mesaharatis. “Instead of using dhol, Nadeem uses the names of elders, which is respectful. Children loves him and stay up for him at night,” said Mohd Wasim, a local.

Nadeem is unmarried but hopes that his children will carry on the tradition. “No one wants to do this work any longer. The young people feel embarrassed,” said Nadeem. “And the work doesn’t provide you with a fortune or gives you prestige. It’s a good deed one does for others. The new generation sees it as something unnecessary, but what they don’t know is that it helps people come closer to Allah.”

The mesaharatis has been around for generations. Although the loud noise of speakers and digital alarms is posing a threat to the fading melody of the sehriwale, there is something only mesaharati can do — in the quiet moments before dawn, his voice resonates as he ushers people into a new day, underlining the testament to the spirit of community and faith in the city's historic heart.