City Secret – Bollywood Seller, Ballimaran

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Selling Shah Rukh in Ghalib’s territory.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Mr Arif Khan’s business establishment stands a few steps away from Ghalib’s last haveli in Ballimaran, an Old Delhi neighborhood best known for being the address of... well, Ghalib’s last haveli.

Ironically, Mr Khan’s cart has no book by Ghalib. That doesn’t embarrass him - “I’m illiterate, can’t read,” he says.

Ghalib-lovers might beat their chest but then how many in this city read him?

Mr Khan has other knick-knacks that will make you forget the Delhi’s greatest poet. Like his collection of hundreds of not-so-new Bollywood picture postcards: early Shah Rukh Khans; baby Saif Ali Khan in a romantic pose with the matronly Sridevi, baby Saif Ali Khan in a romantic pose with a male actor(!) and for the naughty, there is even the saucy Mandakini (who showed her you-know-what in the 80s hit Ram Reri Ganga Maili).

Call it masala mix. If Ballimaran is a fossilizes relic of what Delhi used to be, then Mr Khan’s postcards are what Bollywood was till a few decades ago. But filmstars are not the only commodity here. Athlete types can buy postcards of tennis player Sania Mirza. There are WWF wrestlers, too - all for a rupee each. The same cards which admittedly look tacky here turn arty in Hauz Khas galleries where they would sell for not less than Rs 50(!)

From where does Mr Khan get this stuff? “I go to Sadar Bazaar and there it comes from Bombay,” he says.

Five years ago, Mr Khan was employed in a small Ballimaran firm that made lampshades. Then the Chinese goods invaded the bazaar and killed the Indian lamp trade and Mr Khan literally had to come out on the street, this Ballimaran street – Gali Qasim Jaan.

While nothing sells like Bollywood, Mr Khan's other blockbusters are beedis, rings, toffees, chips, aamras, gutkas, rubber-bands, combs and other things I cannot recall. However, despite his houseful cart, his heart is rather empty.

Mr Khan is in his 40s (he looks older) and still without a partner - no wife, no lover. “I stay with my chacha, chachi,” he says, “and I didn’t marry because there is no place in our one-room house in Ballimaran.” Doesn’t he feel lonely? “It’s OK,” he says with a slow shrug.

With a daily income of around Rs 200, lower than the price of a pizza at Khan Market’s Café Turtle, Mr Khan could have barely supported a family. Life anyway is tough even without it. Look at his weather-beaten face, graying hair and stooped shoulders. But hard times notwithstanding, Mr Khan has a polite old-world charm around him. I will visit him again. For his sake and for Shah Rukh's.

Where Next to Skyoptics, Near Ghalib's haveli, Galli Qasim Jaan, Ballimaran Time 11am-11pm

Mr Khan and his cart



Life's tough but that's ok



Ghalib's haveli



That's Shahid, in a store near Mr Khan's cart

Photo Essay - Big City Loneliness

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1 in 13 million.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

In this crowded city, loneliness is hardly elusive. It is sitting on the steps of Rajauri Garden metro station, crouching on the grassy grounds of Lodhi Garden. It is a silhouette in Central Park, a broken soul at Nizamuddin dargah. Loneliness is a coolie in a railway station, a society lady in a living room. It is even a bird, bitch, or kitten. It is also a beggar, also a best-selling author. Here’s the proof.

Mirza Ghalib's Tomb, Nizamuddin Basti



Rooftop, Old Delhi



Living Room, Malcha Marg



Outside a mandir, Kailash Colony



F-block, Connaught Place



Matia Mahal, Near Jama Masjid



Lake-side, Lodhi Garden



N-block, Connaught Place



Pavement, Road (Unknown)



N-block subway, Connaught Place



Auto, Near ITO Crossing



N-block, Connaught Place



Living Room, Sujan Singh Park



Metro Station, Rajauri Garden



Music Shop, Connaught Place



Outside Golcha Theater, Daryaganj



N-block, Connaught Place



Living Room, Nizamuddin East



Near Statesman Tower, Barakhamba



Stairs, Hazrat Nizamuddin Station



She too is lonely, Hauz Khas



Bus Shelter, Tolstoy Marg



She too alone, Paharganj



Near Regal Cinema, Connaught Place



Courtyard, Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah

City Classifieds – Book Search for Shakespeare

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The Delhi Walla needs a special copy.

[Text by Mayank Austen Soofi; picture by Marina Bang]

I’m looking for The Complete Works of Shakespeare. Not just any copy.

I spend most of the day and night walking around in the city, armed with a camera, a notepad and, usually, a book. Unfortunately, when it comes to Will, I could either carry him or handle my camera, not both.

To get rid of this Catch 22 situation, I seek a small paperback edition of the Complete Works. It should ideally be tiny enough to fit into my jeans pocket, light enough for the shoulder bag not to be weighed down by it. The pages must be thin, the font size reasonable.

The Shakespeare editions I have (mostly picked from Daryaganj’s Sunday Book Bazaar) are almost all beautiful but they are either too old or too rare or too delicate or too huge or too pricey to be carried around Delhi’s dusty haze with a certain detachment. While commuting in autos and bluelines, I get worried for Will's well being as he toss and turn in the shoulder bag.

What I need is not very different from the copies of leather-covered, black-coloured King James Bible I have often spotted in Paharganj’s second hand bookstores. I have also seen those in the hands of Malayali Christians at the Cathedral Church of Redemption in North Avenue. These Bibles might not be designed aesthetically but they are user-friendly: paperback, small size, big fonts, onionskin paper – the entire volume giving a really light feel.

I want such a Shakespeare. So the next time when I’m walking in Mahipalpur or Rohini, and feel an urge for Macbeth or King Lear, I don’t need to look for a place to sit down, unzip my shoulder bag, take out a heavy heartbreakingly beautiful Shakespeare, and sink so deep into the demanding ritual of balancing it, opening it, swooning over it that I ignore the amazing street scenes and miss out on a really good Kodak moment.

The ideal Shakespeare must be ready to suffer abuses and yet remain serviceable. It’s like I’m reading As You Like It in Matia Mahal, suddenly there is a cow coming in a saree, I immediately drop the book, click this amazing sight, and then go back into the book.

If, dear reader, you have such a Shakespeare and don’t mind parting with it or if you have spotted such a Shakespeare at somebody’s place or at some bookstore in Delhi, please let me know at mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com.

If you are a Delhiite looking for a book you can’t trace anywhere, please write to The Delhi Walla explaining just why you want that book and he will put it up on this blogsite.

City Guest – Lychees in Delhi

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They stay here for two months.

[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Even as Chinese goods have become a year-round sight in Delhi, one Chinese-origin product still makes its guest appearance only for two months in a year — May and June. I am not talking about switches and watches, but the sweet, round lychees. Trust Delhiites not to let go of this annual event, even though at the time of writing this piece, lychees are yet not that visible save on a thela or two.

In early May, 2009, I went to fruit stalls in Daryaganj and spotted no lychees there. The fruits don’t need an Indian visa any more; they are now grown in Dehradun (Uttaranchal) and Bihar. “They will come anytime now,” said Mr Farhan Akhtar, a young fruit seller.

A few weeks later the consignments arrived. There is evidence — on the afternoon of May 20, Mr Chandra Shekhar Duggal in Noida’s Sector 25 bought the season’s first lychees for his family from Moti Nagar Market. His son, Sudeep, an engineering student, tried them a day later. “They were so fresh, juicy,” swoons Sudeep, “and the flesh easily came off the seed.”

Mrs Pushpa Singh, a homemaker in Vasundhra, Ghaziabad, prefers lychees that are well-travelled. “I like the ones that come from Muzaffarpur in Bihar,” she says. “Those from Dehradun are usually too small or too sour.”

Even foreigners have grown fond of Indian lychees, region notwithstanding. Mr Erik Kurzweil, a German diplomat and a resident of Malcha Marg, was never a big fan before arriving in Delhi around three years ago. “I started liking the fruit once I tasted them here,” says Mr Kurzweil. He shops for fruits from the INA Market, a mandi popular among the expats. Elsewhere, they are robbed blind.

Take Ms Vasantha Angamuthu, an expat from South Africa. She got her season’s first lychees from the tony GK-I and paid Rs 90 a kg! That is nothing short of scalping considering the same stuff costs Rs 40 a kg or less in Connaught Place footpaths. “But then, people in GK must pay a higher price,” she says with a shrug. Obviously, some are more equal than others, even among lychees.

City Times – The Connaught Place Facelift

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Botox shot for Delhi's heart.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Without creating any noise, hype, fuss or traffic jams, central Delhi is re-inventing itself. From Platform No.1 of New Delhi Railway Station and Connaught Place's C-block to Gole Market, the entire area, as on May, 2009, is in the midst of a makeover.

If the outer façade of the railway station looks toothpaste white, then many portions of the colonial Connaught Place structures are at present hidden behind scaffolding.

Connaught Place – also known as CP or Rajiv Chowk – was constructed by the British in 1929 and was completed four years later. Its Georgian architecture is said to be modeled after the Royal Crescent in Bath, England.

Down the years, both the Inner and Outer Circle of this premier shopping and business district had fallen to decay. Other than the crumbling walls and paan-stained corners, CP was considered unsafe for girls after dark. In evenings, one still sees sex workers enticing customers behind the grand pillars of Outer Circle. Even the respectable Central Park, till a few years ago, had a difficult reputation. It was frequented by homosexuals, eunuchs, and hashish-addicts. However, in 2006, the construction of an underground metro train terminus in the park and its subsequent revamp as a haven for middle class Delhi helped in the disappeareance of those social rejects.

After the social 'cleanup', it is now the turn to get rid of physcial eye sores.

In May, 2009, the New Delhi Municipal Council earnestly began work on restoring the façade of the Inner Circle. (They actually finished work on C-block in 2008 but that was a pilot project). Windows are being replaced, walls re-painted, pillars and jaalis restored to their original look. Those shoppers who have recently hopped past blocks A and E must have noticed that the shaded corridors have been barricaded, forcing them to walk out under a hot sun. Not many mind, though. "A little inconvenience for a better look tomorrow is okay with me," says Ms Nalini Shah, a Raja Garden resident who comes to CP at least twice a month.

The physically disabled have not been ignored in the restoration plans. Since the beginning of 2009, fourteen ramps have been built in the Inner Circle and Central Park.

While the restoration is a larger project, primarily aimed at sprucing up Delhi in time for the 2010 Commonwealth Games, major standalone landmarks in CP, too, will soon get a new look. What used to be the popular Nirula's outlet at L-block will soon house Haldiram's. Similarly, the renovation of the grimy Odeon cinema is almost complete. The building's white colour is blinding under the summer sun, while the walking space outside the theatre is all smooth and glossy. "We're opening in the next 2-3 weeks," says Mr Tushar Dhingra, COO, Big Pictures, which is managing the theatre.

Not far from here, a large patch of ground next to the Shivaji Stadium bus terminus is teeming with labourers and machines. A new state-of-the-art Metro station is coming up there. Close by, the dismal façade of Gole Market — which is in the 'A' category of Indian heritage buildings — may finally see renovation after years of legal wrangling. Right now, the central portion of this 'monument' could make a good setting for horror films, but it may soon regain the glory it had when the British built it almost a century ago.

Restoring CP



Nirula's history, Halidram's future; at L-block



Rivoli Cinema, too, had a makeover



CP's now relatively safer for girls, outside Blues



Though subways may still be risky



The park above Palika Bazaar



CP Dreams, C-block

Capital Guest – Mr Bond in Delhi

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A beloved author's links to this city.

[Text by Mayank Austen Soofi; picture by Sunil Saxena]

Everybody loves Mr Ruskin Bond, the children's writer who celebrated his 75th birthday on May 19th, 2009.

Born in Kasauli, brought up in Simla, Jamnagar, Dehradun and Mussoorie, Mr Bond has been living in Landour in the Himalayan province of Uttarakhand, since the 60s. But he does have a strong connection with Delhi — because this is where the business is.

He comes to Delhi frequently on the invitation of his publishers. But Mr Bond, despite being one of the most renowned authors in the country, is not one to seek the luxury of Delhi's five-star hotels. "I've stayed in big hotels of big cities for a day or two, but their long corridors remind me of jails — not that I was ever imprisoned in one," he says in his usual humourous style. He was talking to The Delhi Walla on a landline from Landour. Mr Bond has no mobile phone and he writes on an old Ramington typewriter.

In case if you are interested, our dear author suffers from a recurring nightmare. It goes something like this: he is staying in a five-star hotel in Bombay, and someone is supposed to come and pay on his behalf. Meanwhile, he has all the luxuries. A week passes and no one has turned up yet with the cash. He is worried. Finally, the moment comes when he is to be presented with the bill. Fortunately, Mr Bond says that he always wakes up sweating at this point.

If not hotels, where does he stay when in town? "I prefer the India International Centre," he says. No kids there, so story plots probably don't hit him at the rate of a hundred per minute, but Mr Bond finds other things to do at the IIC. "I'm an old-fashioned person who likes gardening, reading and writing," he says.

Better still, the IIC offers no five-star nightmare. Here, Mr Bond knows that his publishers will pay as he sups in its dining room and reads in the library. Besides, our beloved author also likes the IIC's old-world staff. "Somebody always appears if you ring the bell," he exclaims. And then there is Lodhi Garden, right next door. Mr Bond loves walking here as long as he doesn't stumble into lovers.

However, The Delhi Walla is not sure if Mr Bond will have any stomach for Dilli ka khana. You know, the raan, kebab kind of stuff. "I may compromise on my other meals, but in the morning I want my fried eggs, ham, fluffy omelettes and toasts," he says. So perhaps there's no point in taking this legendary writer to the legendary parathe waali galli (No ham there!). But thank God for the IIC. "I like the scrambled eggs there," he says. More than the eggs, we wish Mr Bond more books and more birthday cakes in the years to come.

Although there is hardly any Delhi in Ruskin Bond's fiction, one of his anthologies is titled Delhi is Not Far.

Photo Essay - Amaltas Trees, Hailey Road

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The best part of Delhi summers.

[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]

It is always good when the temperature crosses the 40-degree mark. It is then that amaltas flowers start blooming and mind you, they remain in full bloom only during the months of May and June.

So if you happen to be in Delhi during this time of the year, just leave your air-conditioned room and hit the road — Hailey Road, that is. This quiet stretch of a road near Connaught Place is, at the time of writing this piece, glowing on both sides in a spectacular sprinkling of gold. Thanks to the amaltas tree (Cassia fistula L.).

But why should you care?

"In peak summer, the sky is hazy grey, the air dusty and everything is tiresome," says Mr Kunal Chatterjee, a student of Indian classical music. "But the cheery sight of amaltas invigorates the senses."

Yes, trees can be cool. Native to India, amaltas is noted for its yellow flowers that blossom only when the weather gets hot. As if nature is compensating for its intolerable heat.

During the hot months, you inevitably come across these dazzling bursts on any Delhi street, but there is a reason why I'm asking you to take a walk down Hailey Road. There, the sight is incredible — rows of amaltas trees; yellow flowers entwined with the green leaves of the peepal; flowers crawling up electric poles, snaking around notice boards, falling like snow flakes onto the ground, covering it with a golden-hued carpet.

No wonder these trees are also referred to as golden shower and golden rain. And yes, while on the walk, don't skip the giant amaltas growing out of the guards' barrack at the Iranian embassy.

"The most remarkable feature about amaltas is that it is still a wild tree with wild genes and wild characters," says Mr Pradip Krishen, the author of the bestselling book Trees of Delhi. "Gardeners and horticuturists are an interfering bunch of people and tend to select and breed for large, showy flowers or prettier foliage or better fragrance or some such character and so it's rare to see a cultivated tree in a city like Delhi that remains true to its wild form.”

Mr Krishen's guess is that amaltas is still hundred per cent wild, and that all its lovely characters are exactly as you will find them in dry, deciduous jungles across the breadth of the Indian subcontinent.

Amaltas has other uses, too, though not that aesthetic. Its roots, bark, seeds and leaves are used as a purgative to make one vomit and, well, also as a laxative. But on Hailey Road, you just focus on its look.

"But don't let its flowers blind you to its fragrance," advises Mr Krishen. "You'll probably have to find a way of taking a deep sniff when the diesel fumes are at their minimum but the amaltas emits a truly lovely scent, especially in the morning." We'll try waking early.

Where Hailey Road, opposite Modern School, Barakhamba Best time Morning Other places to see Amaltas Rajghat, Nehru Park, Amrita Shergill Marg, BRT corridor

Click here to read another story on the Amaltas.

Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Iranian embassy building, Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Hailey Road)



Incredible? (Nizamuddin East)



Incredible? (Nehru Park)