CALM AMID ΤΗΕ CΗΑΟS

Despite Delhi's infamous reputation as a city heaving with smog and bad traffic, writer Soh Wee Ling found respite in pockets brimming with quaint coffee shops, home-grown designer boutiques, and historical marvels.

With its two sandstone-and-marble minarets towering above the narrow lanes of Old Delhi, it's no wonder that Jama Masjid is the walled city's most emblematic attraction. More than just a place of worship, it has also emerged as an important centre of social and political life in pre- and post-independence India.

My sister and I were about to walk away when a man came up to us and told us we could enter the mosque by another entrance.

Right at this moment, the gatekeeper looked over and beckoned for us to enter. We were pleasantly surprised as he had turned us away a few minutes ago, saying Jama Masjid was not yet open.

This was how we accidentally found ourselves in one of the largest mosques in India, built by the same Mughal emperor who had commissioned the construction of the Taj Mahal, on one of the hottest days this summer, one hour before everyone else.

Oblivious to this fact, we skirted its large courtyard the whole time, trying to find shade in the arcade as I moaned about my stroke of bad luck - a friend had just texted me that my favourite Korean idol would be in Singapore while I was in India. We only realised how lucky we were when swarms of tourists started streaming in.

My sister, Wee Li, and I were on a two-week backpacking trip in India, and we were going to be in Delhi just long enough for us to buy train tickets to Jaipur. Unless you are on business or visiting family, the perennially chaotic capital - bemoaned for its bad traffic and overpopulation - is likely an afterthought for those flying into Indira Gandhi International Airport.

Two days later, we made our way gingerly on foot to catch our 6am Jaipur-bound train, the streets already buzzing with activity in the predawn twilight.