Neighbourhood - Majnu Ka Teela, The New Paharganj

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A new backpacker ghetto in town.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

A Tibetan refugee camp since the 1960s, Majnu ka Teela is emerging as the new Paharganj.

This is odd. Unlike Delhi's original backpacker paradise, it flaunts no Hebrew graffiti or German bakeries. Here wrinkled momolas, and not Nigerian hash addicts, kill time sitting on pavement benches. Chummy uncles drink butter tea, not masala chai. CD shacks play Phurbu T Namgyal, not Ravi Shankar. While rosy-cheeked boys, fresh from Lhasa, smoke Marlboros in street corners.

MT, as locals refer to it, used to be a popular dormitory neighborhood for Tibetan travellers. These were refugees settled in India or new arrivals from 'home', visiting the city. However, a noticeable number of western backpackers have now started patronising it. "It started around 5 years ago. Today one in every three is a foreigner," says Tenzing, who works in a travel agency and would only give her first name.

Whether its due to the hip appeal of Dalai Lama (smiling on every wall), the pull of Free Tibet romanticism, or Richard Gere's sex appeal, more and more white faces are to be seen in MT's sunless alleys transforming it into the new Paharganj.

The new edition is neater than the original. No filth, no stink, no Kashmiri touts, no stoned hippies. "We don't welcome those kind of backpackers," says Lobsang, who runs the popular Dolma restaurant which warns on its menu that the "consumption of alcohol is restricted".

In fact, most westerners who put up here are sober tourists, almost half-Buddhist. They gladly ditch Paharganj's hippie-cow chaos for the pop spirituality of MT-- bookshops selling Buddhist prayer booklets and Tibetan-language newspapers; monasteries mystified with incense smoke and Om Mani Padme chants.

These backpackers skip trance trips to Goa for the pilgrim tours of Dharamshala, Sarnath, and Bodh Gaya (there are daily bus services to Dharamshala from here). Their tribe is increasing. The challenge is to earn Paharganj-isque profit and yet retain the MT-isque individuality.

Chummy uncles



Om Mani Padme Hum



Lhasa lass



Game over - Paharganj's touts & hippies

Dubai Diary – Dilli Door Ast,or Delhi is Far

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A Delhi girl finds a better life in the middle-eastern metropolis.

[Text by Manika Dhama; she writes in Myriad Musings and More; picture of the author by Mayank Austen Soofi]

I always knew that Delhi and I were going to have a long-distance relationship some day. It didn’t matter that I’d lived, studied and worked there for almost 12 years. That was the longest I’d stayed in any city. But I left the city last year in September. No, it wasn’t about Delhi and me. We were getting along just fine. It was just time to move on and I was more than ready to.

When I finally settled down in the (desert) sun of Dubai, I wasn’t looking for ways to compare the two cities, but they just presented themselves.

Lucky Women of Dubai

As a woman, the obvious difference (and perhaps the most significant one) is how “free” one feels in Dubai. Late night bus rides, 3 am walks through the streets, watching the sunrise/waves at the beach (with as less as one and not more than four male-friends for company at any given time) gives one enough reason to bemoan the state of affairs in Delhi.

Of course that is not to say one is always safe in Dubai (can one ever be in any city in the world?) but atleast by doing the above, one is not taking actions bordering on the abnormal, something one would be doing in Delhi. The sad truth is I am not exaggerating!

There also happen to be only-for-women taxis in Dubai. You’re alone and need to get to the airport or to a party, just call one of these pink-topped, women-driven taxis. No need to rely on male friends to ‘escort’ you.

Of course one would be naïve to assume that men in Dubai are very different from those in other parts of the world. So, yes, you might get eve-teased (in languages that may range from Arabic to Lebanese to Malayali), but these instances are so few and far between that you wouldn’t be too worried to walk with a female friend to a supermarket in the vicinity at 11 pm.

Just for your information, if you ever wanted to plant a kiss on your significant other in this city, you could do ahead and do so without the police arresting you for obscenity. But be warned that you’re not allowed to kiss (or eat and drink) outdoors during ramzaan till the evening prayers at around 6 pm. If abstinence is your thing, this is the real deal.

Good Cops, Bad Cops

There is one thing people will always tell you about Dubai: stay on the right side of the law. The police here are not the Taliban (unlike what some people may have you believe) but it wouldn’t hurt to follow the rules. If you’re flying in from Delhi and sees police as bribe-happy people, as most Delhi wallas experience everyday, be warned: it might not be a very good idea to try it on the guys here.

Traffic Jams, But Bigger Cars

People say traffic jams here can kill you. I’m still alive because I haven’t found myself in a bad one yet. When one is not dying in jams, there’s ample opportunity to drool over the Ferraris, Lamborghinis and Hummers of the world.

People here love their cars, have too many of them and drive them real fast. If drift racing gets you going, driving on some roads in Dubai would come fairly close. But there is method to the madness. Traffic rules are serious business and passing a driving test is a feat no less than making it to the Ivy League colleges.

No Cow, But Beef

Animal lovers might find this city fairly disappointing. Months go by without one having seen so much as a cat. Camels may be spotted at construction sites and dogs (if you’re lucky enough to spot one) will have an owner walking on the side. The only cows you’ll come close enough to are the ones in other people’s burgers. There are no street dogs to pat and cows to avoid while driving as in dear Delhi.

Delhi Magic

The Dubai landscape is dotted with skyscrapers that often leave you awestruck. But there is no Humayun’s tomb or Jama Masjid to stir your soul. Of course let truth be known that I visited these places for the first time on a recent visit to Delhi, after having moved to Dubai. Perhaps that is why I could appreciate it more. Not as a tourist in my own city but as someone who had missed out on so much while living there.

When I left Delhi I didn’t think of whether I would or wouldn’t come back after the two years (or more) that I would spend in Dubai. A friend seemed to know for sure that I was never coming back.

I don’t know yet if he’s going to be right. I don’t know if that’s important.

Life can take me anywhere. But Delhi and I have a history. And I’m still in love.

Profile - Raza Rumi, A Pakistani About Town

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A budding writer from Lahore visits the city of his beloved author.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The ignorant Delhi wallas often view visiting Pakistanis as ISI agents or trouble-makers. Mr. Raza Rumi, a native of Lahore, is neither. He has no beard, no moustache. He never frowns, he smiles (actually, he smiles a lot). He has a sleek laptop, no Kalashnikov. Yet he set the city on fire.

As Pakistan's celebrated blogger, he was invited by Jamia Millia Islamia University to speak on a seminar on the Urdu novelist Qurratulain Hyder. Mr. Rumi came, read, and well…conquered.

Everyone loved his take on the late writer's enduring popularity in Pakistan. 'Passionate', 'heartfelt', and 'excellent' were some of the words used to describe his lecture. At least one overawed academic considered withdrawing his paper after listening to "such great stuff."

After the Jamia conference, Mr. Rumi, also a budding writer, went to the Jamia Nagar kabristan and stood silently by Ms. Hyder's grave.

In his presentation, Mr. Rumi had to say this about her:

…… Hyder, till her last, remained a unique bond between India and Pakistan. She was a regular visitor in Pakistan that was her second home in actual terms. Her family, friends and admirers were in a large number that never distanced her from Pakistan. Like her characters, she traveled, migrated and re-migrated and became a chronicler of our times, not as a historian but as a fiction writer.

In the following days, The Delhi Walla was amused by interesting conversations with Mr. Rumi. This Pakistani can speak for hours, sometimes a little self-conscious, but mostly laced with stories that are quite entertaining.

During his last trip to the city, Mr. Rumi had gone to Urdu Bazaar, near Jama Masjid, to buy Kaf-e-Gul Farosh - Ms. Hyder's hefty two-volume pictorial autobiography. Its steep price did not matter. He has always been Ms. Hyder's devoted reader and considers himself lucky to have met her in person. During his first trip to the city, 3 years ago, a close friend took him to Ms. Hyder's residence in Noida where he presented rajnigandha flowers to her, along with a few cassettes of some obscure thumri singers.

This does not mean that Mr. Rumi is always lucky.

He regrets that he had the ill-luck to born a little too late to meet another outstanding Delhi resident he admires - Mirza Ghalib. The greatest of Urdu poets, to use Mr. Rumi's hyperbole, died 99 years before he was born. But Mr. Rumi cannot be blamed for not doing what is proper. He always read the fatiha as he passes by Ghalib's tomb that falls on the way to Nizamuddin dargah. By the way, this sufi shrine is Mr. Rumi's favorite Delhi haunt.

Within the shrine lies the tomb of Jahanara, Shahjahan's daughter. This Mughal princess had requested that no roof should be erected above her burial place. Only grass grows there. Mr. Rumi considers her as a woman sufi and likes sitting next to her tomb.

This may be a flattering portrait of Mr. Rumi as a devotee of the Sufis. Alas, he can be a clichéd tourist too. As he related, he also loves to haggle with the Kashmiri carpet sellers, find bargains in the Dilli Haat, and fill a sack full clay crafts from rural India. And above all, he, quite smoothly, enters the Humayun’s tomb as a local (remember, foreigners are charged in dollars). Of course, who would doubt his chaste Lucknow inspired Urdu.

Sometimes Mr. Rumi behaves like a typical Delhi intellectual: arranging rendezvous in IIC, meeting friends in Café Turtle, and buying books in Khan Market. Not to mention attending high profile events with his dear friend Ms. Sadia Dehlvi.

But the devotion to Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya and the music of Amir Khusrau brings him back, again and again, to the Bastee that he calls the spiritual ghetto--a little haven of peace amidst the maddening commercialism of Delhi.

Not unlike his views on Ms. Hyder whom he calls a “a dual citizen in an age where acrimonies of Partition and officialdom have made it impossible to hold concurrent citizenships”, Mr. Rumi has not entered the Delhi scene. We hope that like his inspiration, Ms. Hyder, he can defy these official restrictions not by breaking any law but espousing a sense of “belonging” that needs no passports.

"I Don't Like Delhi's Crotch-Grabbing, Foul-Mouthed Coarseness"-Exclusive Interview with Siddhartha Basu, India's No. 1 Quiz Master

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The iconic face of Indian TV sits down with The Delhi Walla.

Calcutta-born Siddhatha Basu is widely recognized as father of television quiz shows in South Asia. Managing Director of Synergy Adlabs, he has produced TV classics like Quiz Time and Kaun Banega Crorepati. Mr. Basu lived in Delhi all these years but recently shifted to Bombay. The Delhi Walla badgered him on his life, wife, career, and just why (oh why) he ditched our Delhi.

[This is the final of the three-part interview series Mr. Basu gave to Mayank Austen Soofi. In the first he compared lives in Bombay and Delhi. In the second he mused about Delhi.]

Babu, what aspects of Delhi disturb you most?

Easy. The dadagiri, the crotch-grabbing, foul-mouthed lathmar coarseness that lurks around every corner in Dilli, the danger that descends after dark, its lechery and animosity towards women, its flagrant jiski lathhi uski bhains culture. Its also a city run over by flashy parvenus and the nouveau riche, and riven by the corruption of bureaucracy.

It's all true and depressing. Let's talk something else. You started your TV career about twenty years ago. How do you look back upon this time?

Professionally these have been years of challenge, struggle, achievement and recognition, not always in equal measure. Personally these have been years of being a grihastha, a family man and parent, as my children grew and become young adults.

How do you look upon your evolution from quiz master to producer of television programmes of various genre including dance shows?

The showman and communicator was always there, but typecast as a quiz master by necessity. I went with it as it brought in the work and sustained the team. Of course, I’ve enjoyed the quiz genre and given it my best, but always longed to move beyond question marks to exclamation marks as well. Jhalak Dikhla Ja was a big step into talent and reality shows, just as Jiya Jale, our daily soap on 9X, has helped us break through into fiction. From a hands-on professional, I’m working more as a mentor and ideator now.

Is it fair to divide your professional life into pre-KBC and post-KBC days?

KBC was our advent into mainstream Hindi programming. It brought scale into our production. But the sensibility, attention to detail, methodology and backend that made the show work as a production was always there.

In the sets of KBC, what went through your mind (at least, occasionally) when you saw Amitabh Bachchan (or Shah Rukh Khan) sitting on a chair that has traditionally belonged to you?

I’ve never felt possessive about that chair. The big high is from knowing that whatever expertise I’ve had as Quiz Master has been of some help to such talent in becoming hugely successful in that role.

If you write your autobiography, what will be its title?

Never thought about it. Maybe Beyond Question. A life spent looking for answers.

Babu, thank you for talking to The Delhi Walla.

City Secret – Afternoon Siesta, Hazrat Nizamuddin

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A retiring refuge in this noisy city.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

There are better islands in Delhi than your bedroom for a peaceful afternoon nap. Like the sufi shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya.

Reach around 2 pm. The prayer of Zuhr is over and Maghrib is about four hours away. No unnecessary crowd at this time. No awestruck visitors. No Lonely Planet tourists. No qawwals. No music. No noise. Only the devout. Here is your chance to be yourself.

No one disturbs anyone (if you are in grief and weeping, you are left alone). It is tempting to immediately lie down and cushion yourself into the comforts of deep sleep.

But first things first. Make your haziri at Amir Khusro’s and Hazrat Nizamuddin’s shrines—in that order. Do the little rituals if you have to: kissing the pillars, eating the rose petals, seeking favours from the sarkar, clicking the pictures and so on. Once done, enter the red-coloured masjid on the left. It is dark and cool. Do your prayers or simply watch the faithful doing their namaaz number. Soon you would be sleepy. There’s a door on the right. Enter.

Here’s a sunny courtyard with a roof. Men sleeping here and there (women have a quarter on the left of the masjid). The dargah sounds are subdued here. Birds chirping somewhere. Quiet otherwise. Now lie down.

If you have a shoulder-bag, make it your pillow. Read a book if you have one. Are you in love? If yes, close your eyes and you would see your beloved’s face. If tempted, send the beloved a short sms (“I’m in the dargah and thinking of you”). Now switch off the phone (or shut off the book). Sweet dreams.

Best time 1 pm to 4 pm

Shhh, he is sleeping



The comforting masjid



The afternoon worshippers



The sufi glance



No time for sleep



The prayer call is far away



O my Hazrat

Dateline Delhi – Taslima Nasreen in Town

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Arundhati Roy demands Indian citizenship for the exiled Bangladeshi author.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Delhi is not Dhaka. It is not even Kolkata. Ms. Taslima Nasreen, the Bangladeshi author who has been virtually put under house arrest by the Indian government, somewhere in Delhi, wants to go back home to Kolkata. She does not and is not made to feel at home in this city. But the government is eager to ship her abroad.

Ms. Nasreen wonders why this country of one billion can’t add one more to its numbers. What innocence(!) She is too combustible for this country. She writes insulting things about Islam. She writes graphic details about her sex life. She writes all this rather badly and yet remains a best-selling author. Too much.

Still, why be made a captive? We are told that extremist Islamic groups are bent on killing her. They say her face could launch a thousand Hindu-Muslim riots. In other words, she is a bundle of problems. Since more than a decade. In 1994, Ms. Nasreen had to flee her hometown Dhaka due to her controversial writing. She took refuge in Kolkata. In 2007, she was made to flee Kolkata. In 2008, she is being pressurized to leave India, the world’s biggest democracy (ha ha ha).

The 'secular' Indian government, perhaps nervous about its Muslim vote bank, is reluctant to renew her visa. They want nothing to do with Ms. Nasreen. She has to be hounded out. But some Indians have some other views.

One winter afternoon in the sad little first floor-hall of the Press Club of India, author Mahashweta Devi, playwright Habib Tanvir, novelist Arundhati Roy, actor Girish Karnad, editor Vinod Mehta, social psychologist Ashis Nandy, amongst other eminences, gathered together to demand Indian citizenship for Ms. Nasreen.

Most of these respectable people would never write as insensibly or as badly as Ms. Nasreen but that is beside the point. The point is, in Ms. Roy’s words, that “how free speech is under siege from “many fundamentalisms”— religious, ultra-nationalist and market fundamentalism — intertwined in the strangest ways.”

Mahashweta Devi & Arundhati Roy - In Support of Taslima Nasreen



Outlook Magazine Editor Vinod Mehta - In Support of Taslima Nasreen



Actor Girish Karnad - In Support of Taslima Nasreen



Playwright Irfan Habib - In Support of Taslima Nasreen



Tehelka Magazine Editor Tarun Tejpal - In Support of Taslima Nasreen



Arundhati Roy - In Support of Taslima Nasreen

Opinion – Jama Masjid in Danger

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The sanctity of the ancient quarter is at risk.

[Text by Sadia Dehlvi; picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]

There is a proposal to construct a swanky mall and a multilayered underground parking fifteen meters away from the steps of Jama Masjid. To create this four-basement structure the ground will have to be dug at least eighty feet. Digging of this scale is known to cause severe stress to surrounding buildings. Jama Masjid is built on a rocky hilltop called Bhojla Pahari.

The plan is a nightmare. It brings traumatic memories of the Babri Masjid demolition that was a direct outcome of Hindu extremism. If the proposed underground mall is constructed, Jama Masjid would probably fall to the violence of Economic extremism.

The Archeological Survey of India (ASI) does not permit any construction within 100 meters of a protected monument. We have a family home near Humayun’s tomb where one cannot even repair a house without the prior permission of ASI. Jama Masjid is a functioning mosque and therefore is not officially protected by the ASI. The mosque belongs to none other than God and so it is the custodian of the Waqf Board as pronounced by the Delhi High Court.

However, does that mean we should strip it off from the heritage status and allow construction near its boundaries that threaten its very existence? With it will collapse the mausoleum of Maulana Azad, the tombs of Sarmad Shaheed and Hare Bhare Shah and the cultural ethos of the old walled city.

Mr. Kapil Sibal, the Chandni Chowk MP, does not see the construction as a threat to the mosque and believes that the mall would generate employment for the residents of the area. Has he taken into account the pollution that would be generated by 10,000 vehicles that could be absorbed in the proposed parking? What about their effect on the monument and the people living in the vicinity? Will the underground drilling not damage the foundations of countless houses constructed in the early nineteenth century?

As for economic benefit, the mall culture is known to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. It will displace the vegetable vendors, the kebab sellers and hundreds of those who make a living by selling stuff from their carts.

Mr. Ahmed Bukhari, the Imam of the Jama Masjid too has endorsed this plan as a "historic decision". But Imam Bukhari does not represent the Muslim community. He is only an Imam of the mosque, a paid employee of the Waqf board. Despite an eviction order from the High Court, the Bukharis continue to occupy the house they have built within the premises of the Jama Masjid. The sheer act of illegally occupying a piece of land belonging to the community takes away the moral ground from the Bukhari family to comment on the land issues of the area.

There are bigger questions. Can we place the economic gains of the local residents before the heritage concerns of the people of India? Pandit Nehru wanted to preserve the ambience of this district as it remains an important historic site where the blood of freedom fighters was shed in plenty. Alas, India Shining patrons have conveniently buried the doctrines of our founding fathers. Hopefully some of their pleas would still be heard. Historic and religious sanctity of the area should not be compromised.

Opinion – Kill the Jama Masjid

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City planners to build an underground mall next to this historic mosque.

[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Municipal Corporation of Delhi plans to build a 4-storey basement mall just 30 meters away from Jama Masjid, the grand Mughal-era mosque that is the epicenter of Delhi’s Muslim heritage.

Rs 1,200 crores would be spent on building a secular consumerist paradise next to this 17th century Islamic monument. The mall would glimmer with 600 showrooms. Three-tier parking area for 9000 vehicles is to be another attraction. All underground.

While a few kill-joy ‘experts’ fear that the digging could put the foundation of Jama Masjid to danger, many feel a mall could be worth the risk. “I am happy to know about the plan. I support it fully and would want the work to begin fast," says Syed Ahmed Bukhari, the Shahi Imam of the mosque.

Who cares if a few saints too die in the process? Sufi shrines of Hare Bhare Shah and Sarmad Shahid, lying between the Masjid and the Red Fort, have no concrete prowess and it is feared they would certainly be destroyed following the underground vibrations produced during the construction. But bury the worries.

In these times of breathtaking boom where Delhi is frustrating mapmakers with new flyovers and new malls shooting up each month, the consumerist-city is in haste to roll out in all directions. It has taken over the quiet suburbs, invaded the neighborhood markets, and ‘renovated’ historic theaters. Nothing and no one is being spared.

Slums have been demolished and poor people banished. Showrooms glitter where once plastic-and-brick shanties despaired in darkness. It’s not enough. The lion has tasted the blood. We consumers want more multiplexes, more pubs, and more (exclusive) clubs. We desire bigger malls, taller malls, malls with apartments, malls with hospitals, malls with more foreign brands, malls with more parking space, malls with more of this, malls with more of that. The hunger for more is becoming fiercer.

To make way for more malls, time has come to sacrifice our forts, temples, mosques, bookshops, parks, benches, trees, streams, streets, and retreats. Luckily, the city planners have peered into our dreams. They are now rolling up their sleeves to make a new Old Delhi where we would go for Levi Jeans, Nike Shoes, and Benetton tee-shirts, not sherwanis, sarees and shararas; for Chetan Bhagat and Deepak Chopra bestsellers, not Qurratulain Hyder novels and Mirza Ghalib verses; for chocolate gelatos, not pista kulfis.

India is booming. Delhi is shining. Now we have money enough to kill our souls. Nothing matters once that’s done. Go, kill the Jama Masjid. Allah has his jannat. We will have our jehunnums.

You may also like to read Photo Essay--Time Out Jama Masjid.

City Neighbourhood - Punjabi Bagh

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Your guide to Delhi's signature district.

[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Sonu Nigam, not Daler Mehndi. Health soups, not Tandoori Chicken. Neighborhood stores, not flashy malls.

Is Punjabi Bagh really Punjabi by nature?

Instead of being boisterous, this upper-middle class residential district is quite quiet. The avenues hum with the gentle purr of slow-moving DTC buses. Whilst red-cheeked Octavias and Opel Astras rush past leaving behind slight ripples that flow through beauty parlours and grocery stalls and palatial houses lining both sides of the road.

Nothing else disturbs the stillness of the sleepy bylanes but, ah, the bungalows. Goethe once described architecture as frozen music. Punjabi Bagh bungalows with their loud cupolas, cheery balconies, and noisy colours are surely then irregular-shaped bubbles of Bhangra beat.

Punjabi Bagh is West Delhi's happy haven for wealthy Sikh businessmen and Punjabi-speaking people. The well-off area is well connected to rest of the city and the metro station lies next door at Rajouri Garden. The Rohtak Road cuts it into two slices--West and East. The Westside is westernized with Pizza Hut and McDonald's. The Eastside is sort of eastern with its subzi-wallas and Agrawaal Sweets.

In the Westside, the uppity Punjabi Bagh Club has a verdant ground where cricketers bowl away their winter afternoons. The East is content with its Dhingra Park (named after a Lahore-born army captain killed in the 1971 war) that stays abuzz with grandkids, grannies and gossip. Both sides though share the same essential: big multi-storied bungalows with Shining India lives locked behind their tall gates. Crime is rare and women walk freely. "People coming out from banks are sometimes looted," cautions Head Constable Birchha Singh.

Known as 'Refugee Colony', the neighbourhood was re-christened to its present name by Prime Minister Nehru in 1954. Bless the original inhabitants--those hardworking refugees from Pakistani Punjab who settled here after the partition. They and their descendants not only created wealth in the city but also added more richness to its cultural landscape. Can it be denied that the new Delhi is shaped as much by the exuberance of Punjabi Bagh as it is by the grandeur of Lutyen's Chankyapuri?

The World of Sikhs

1:30 pm. Gurdwara Singh Sahib. Two sevadars with white-flowing beards are bundling books in a silk cloth. These English-language translations of Guru Granth Sahib have been ruined by the silverfish and would be burned. Meanwhile students from the nearby Guru Nanak Public School are tiptoeing in to murmur prayers in silence.

I'm told this tranquil gurudwara was burned down during the '84 Sikh riots. Perhaps all is forgiven. Else explain why the 2005 circa inaugural plaque at the Westside's Radhe Krishna Marg proudly boast of Sajjan Kumar MP, a politician accused by many of instigating the massacre against the Sikhs? Similarly, the plaque at Ginni Devi Marg, in Punjabi Bagh East, is graced with the name of Jagdish Tytler, another neta linked to '84 riots. Strange these tainted men are so honourably immortalized in a neighbourhood that has more than one gurdwara.

The skyline is in fact dominated by the three white domes of Tikana Sahib.

Of course, Punjabi Bagh is not only about the Sikhs and the Punjabis. The 30-year-old St. Mark Church, at Radhe Krishna Marg, has around 400 Parish members. On Sundays, 1500 odd Catholics attend separate services in Hindi, English and Malayalam. Curiously, a notice outside informs, "The church does not provide domestic maids." (Too many people enquiring after Filishias and Marys from Jharkhand?) Now turn to Westside's Central Market. No maids here but a good range of choices: showrooms and gymshops (40 treadmills sold monthly), IIT-JEE and Call Center coaching centers; Moti Mahal Delux and the Great Kebab Factory. And all you entrepreneurs--go, get your loans from...well...Punjab National Bank.

Real Estate Info

According to property dealer Rajesh Arora (9810707072), rent for a 2-bedroom flat range around Rs 15, 000. 280 sq. yard plot comes for 5 crores approx. Monthly rent of a floor in a bungalow of that size is around Rs 35, 000. Arora says that the Westside is approx. 15% more expensive then Eastside.

Delhi & Lahore – A Tale of Two Cities

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Introducing the blog Lahore Nama.

[Text and imaging by Mayank Austen Soofi]

I visited Lahore for the first time in 2006 and found it filthy, smoggy, and very third-world. Like Delhi. Obviously I loved it. I sensed more similarities: Punjabi gaalis, Mughal-era forts, colonial-era monuments, old-city bazaars, leafy districts, and broad avenues. And yes, Delhi has Lahori Gate and Lahore has Dilli Gate. But this sort of sameness is an illusion. Let’s not forget that Lahore is a Pakistani city and Delhi is Indian. We two are separated by past, present, and passports.

More than 60 years have passed since the creation of our two nations. 60 years should be but a blip in the life of great cities like Delhi and Lahore but meantime much has changed in their characters. And character is destiny. Both cities have continued to grow in ways that makes them very different from each other. Delhi lost its Muslim refinement. Lahore lost its Hindu heritage. Today there are three cities of Delhi and three cities of Lahore: what they used to be; what they are now; what they could have been.

The Delhi Walla has been in the quest of those Delhis for more than a year. It now feels privileged to share with readers its discovery of Lahore Nama, a blogsite that it is attempting to capture a Lahore "that was and that ought to be..." Started by Mr. Raza Rumi, an eminent Pakistani blogger, Lahore Nama is the brother-blog of The Delhi Walla.

Happy browsing.