Our car comes to a halt a few metres from a main crossing in Turiaganj, also known as Victoriaganj. At first we cannot locate the house, so we climb up a few flights of stairs to a row of shops. There, a shopkeeper points straight ahead and, opposite us, behind shops packed together like a deck of cards, a haveli rises. From afar, it almost seems like a child's sandcastle, with none of the frills commonly associated with havelis of North India. Instead, it seems to have been inspired by gothic architecture, two towers on either side of the conical façade rising up. Crescent-shaped swirls like half-drawn flowers are engraved on their arches, and perpendicular pillars are topped with football-shaped concrete blocks. A plaque above the arch of the left tower reads 'Adabistan' – the abode of literature. As we enter, the haveli greets us with LIVE AND LET LIVE carved along the roof's boundary wall.
Naiyer Masud's childhood was spent in the rooms and passageways of Adabistan. 'Ghar ke bahar nahin likh pate hain,' he says (I am not able to write outside the house). But once in Adabistan it does not matter which corner he is in – the stories come to him. As a child Masud would tell his mother he was affected by jinns and she, fearing for her child, would say, 'Ya to fakir ban jaoege ya pagal ban jaoge' (Either you will become a fakir or a madman).