It is said Mughal princesses swung on beautifully decorated jhoolas hanging from large trees inside Delhi’s Red Fort. Vintage Hindi films often featured the hero singing a romantic song as he lovingly pushed the heroine’s swing. One of my favourites is Jhoole mein pawan key aayi bahar from the black and white classic Baiju Bawra (1952) starring Meena Kumari and Bharat Bhushan. This evergreen duet had the hero standing on the rope swing adorned with flowers even as the heroine sat dreamily. It was the most romantic thing they could do. A step further and the censor board would have stepped in.

This article is not about swings for girls; it’s actually about swings for monkeys. While looking up a heritage site, I came across an old article published just before the last Delhi elections. It was about the Delhi Development Authority being given the go-ahead to develop the area around the fourteenth century Tughlaqabad fort. I wondered if the work had begun. And what had happened to the monkeys of Tughlaqabad? Do the swings for monkeys there still exist? The ruins of the abandoned fort are home to thousands of rhesus macaques. Over the years, I have clicked hundreds of pictures of them during visits to the area. A banana seller had made swings for them: Swings from pieces of rope tied together, a tattered saree hung from a branch, and tyres of a cycle interwoven with a rag. Monkeys of all sizes played, jumped, and swung merrily on them.

The banana seller’s cart was always parked under that tree, seven days a week. He loved the monkeys and the monkeys loved him. They were very well-behaved. Even the babies awaited their turn on the swings patiently. They never stole bananas from the man’s cart. The swings on the tree made business sense to him because many people bought bananas from him to feed the monkeys, especially on Tuesdays and Saturdays, which are important days for worshipping Hanuman.

When I read the news about Tughlaqabad, I realised I hadn’t visited the area for a few years. Having witnessed those entertaining sights for decades, I had never imagined anything would change.

Curious to know the fate of the monkeys, I returned. Development is evident everywhere in the area in the noisy, monstrous machines at work. Monkeys still roam around but the tree with the swings is missing.

The banana seller too was still there, selling bananas. “Where are the swings?” I asked. He told me the tree had been cut down.

I remembered the article had also said that the National Monument Authority’s No Objection Certificate for development near the fort was given on the condition that the DDA hand over any artefacts found there to the Archaeological Survey of India.

The tree with swings was no artefact; it wasn’t important to anyone. No one needed it.

It started drizzling. I closed my eyes. I pictured Amma sing her favourite sawan song: Nanhi nanhi boondiyan re, sawan ka mera jhoolna (Small droplets of rain fall as I swing in the month of sawan).

Prerna Jain is an artist and photographer based in New Delhi. An extensive collection of her work can be found at her website www.prernasphotographs.com and at facebook.com/prernasphotographs. She is the author of My Feathered Friends and a collection of short stories, Stories Usual, Yet Unusual.