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“The Last Mughal,” a heritage music-theatre, plays to rapt audiences at Delhi’s Red Fort
“Let’s recreate the gatherings of those old times,” said the duo, William Dalrymple and Vidya Shah.
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Ritu Marwah - Mon, 04, May 2026
- 02:24 EDT
- 15
William Dalrymple and Vidya Shah performance at Red Fort / Ritu Marwah
On the night of May 3, at the Red Fort in New Delhi, wearing a Banarasi sari from the time of the “struggle” of 1857, vocalist Vidya Shah sat cross-legged on stage, flanked by six musicians bearing traditional instruments. Under the patronage of Saregama Carvaan Luxe, the lawns of the Red Fort were once again alive with the echoes of a bygone era of the Rebellion.
Shah’s singing embellished the history unearthed by William Dalrymple in his readings from his book The Last Mughal. The duo recreated the happenings of a time when music and culture, in one last burst of brilliance, illuminated the city of Delhi before its flame was mercilessly extinguished by the colonial powers. The last Mughal emperor was reduced to scribbling poetry with a burnt stick on the walls of his cell, said Dalrymple.
“The Last Mughal” is a heritage music-theatre experience evoking the court of Bahadur Shah Zafar, which was nostalgically staged, for the first time ever, at the historically significant Red Fort, the stage where the story had unfolded and played out its last act.
The duo invited the audience to recreate a mehfil of yesteryears. “Us zamane ki mehfil jamaey.”
Dalrymple painted a picture with words, while Vidya Shah, in her evocative rendering, summoned the lost mehfils of Delhi and Meerut, where courtesans, sharp-tongued and fearless, once stirred the rebels of 1857, taunting them with, “yeh kya namakharami chal rahi hai?” Her music filled the lawns and hearts of the Delhi glitterati.
The Delhi Glitterati at The Last Moghul, Red Fort / Ritu Marwah
As the hapless emperor lay broken on his cot, the swollen bodies of his subjects lay strewn in the streets, wailed the sarangi. Dalrymple pointed out the bodies with outstretched hands, frozen in a last scream of death.
The audience looked up at the ramparts of the Red Fort and imagined India’s battle for independence playing out around them. As the sun eclipsed this last brave attempt, the audience members sipping on colorful sherbet designed by Café Lota forgot the taste of aam papad-embellished brownie, palak patta chaat, chicken samosas, and gunpowder idlis that they had just wolfed down as the sun had set, turning the pink sandstone of the fort to the color of red blood.
The evening could not have been more perfect, with the breeze of pre-monsoon Delhi wafting through the audience, who momentarily forgot that it was Delhi in May.
Saregama mehfils are not to be missed.
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