The forests of the Ridge are a lung to Delhi. From here, this enormous city, one of the most populous in the world, is invisible, inaudible. The Ridge is uninhabited, almost. For hidden away in a thick jungle of keekar and babul trees are two very different buildings, just 20 metres apart. A satellite ground station next to a ruined hunting lodge, built more than six hundred years ago. The former is bristling with modernity, large dishes, CCTV and high-security defences. However, the inhabitants of the decrepit Malcha Mahal take their security even more seriously. Next to a footpath to the building is a rusted metal signboard that declares:

ENTRY RESTRICTED.
CAUTIOUS OF HOUND DOGS.

PROCLAMATION.
INTRUDERS SHALL BE GUNDOWN.

Malcha Mahal is occupied by members of the former royal family of Oudh, whose rule ended in the 1850s. They fell on hard times, living at one point in the 1980s in a waiting-room at New Delhi Railway Station before hiding themselves away on the Ridge. They have not shot anyone, to my knowledge, though they have let loose their dogs on those who have gone beyond the signpost without permission. I first attempted to visit Malcha Mahal in the early nineties, as a young reporter for the BBC. A liveried servant, whose once-white uniform was muddied and torn, appeared with a large black dog on a tight leash. He carried a silver tray, on which I placed my business card and a letter asking for an audience. Ten minutes later, I received a letter informing me that my request had been turned down, but that I was welcome to ask again. I had now returned, more than 15 years later; a friend had secured an audience with them, and asked me to tag along...