The bridges of a Delhi county.
[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi]
Positioned five miles outside Delhi’s eastern limits, this redbrick railway bridge is in Ghaziabad, a district in Uttar Pradesh. Composed of a series of six 70-feet-wide arches, it looks like a Roman aqueduct.
Spanning the banks of the Hindon, a tributary of the Yamuna, the bridge looks best at dawn. If it is winter, the mist might be drifting over the river.
Arrive at six. The road is empty at this hour; the train traffic is heavy. Sit down on the stairs that lead to the bridge. Can you hear the faint whistle of a rail engine? Yet another train is approaching. The faint echo is transforming into a roar. Now, a great clattering sound – the train is rushing along the bridge. A minute later, the bridge returns to its natural solitariness, the river remains limpid.
While there are display boards informing about the bridge’s length (488 meter) and the highest flood level (recorded in 1978), it is unclear when it was constructed. “Most arched railway bridges were built during the Raj,” says KP Singh, an engineer who crosses the structure daily.
Another rail overpass, more modern, runs parallel to the Colonial-era construction.
A number of super-fast expresses follow one after another on both the bridges. This gives the trainspotter a fleeting feel of connection to faraway places the trains come from: Puri, Dibrugarh, Amritsar, Patna, Howrah, Mumbai, Ahmedabad, and Goa.
Walk carefully under the bridge. The road takes a steep turn and the approaching car may not see you. Here. the visual perspective of the arches enlarges. Their reflection on the water may tempt you to write a haiku. There is a distant view of the Hindon dam.
Resist from excessive sentimentalism. The river is black with filth, the parapet is scrawled with graffiti, the area is known for its criminals, and you may also come across beggars.
“We live in a noisy city,” says Payal Singh, who has driven over from Vasundhara, a nearby neighbourhood of high-rise apartments. “But here, so peaceful.”
The quiet is as lasting as the morning dew. As the morning advances, the road under the bridge gets crowded with commuters. The magic dissipates.
Where Near Mohan Nagar Crossing, Ghaziabad Nearest Metro Station Vaishali
The dream shapes of a misty morning
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@MAS: Bhai… checkout YOUR INTERVIEW the online news site REDIFF.COM here
http://www.rediff.com/getahead/slide-show/slide-show-1-specials-interview-with-mayank-austen-soofi/20121206.htm
Latth Gadd diya chhore
Congratulations … Please republish it on your own website here.
@MAS
I loved the feelings behind the title of your book. as you said
‘The title “Nobody Can Love You More” struck me after spending my time and staying in kotha number 300 on GB Road for a considerable amount of time, and after meeting the customers, most of whom are decent people.
I wanted the title to be beautiful. Also, it has many meanings. It could be something a prostitute tells a customer, or a customer tells his pet prostitute. It doesn’t have one truth.’
I think sufi’s better interview is here:
http://thehungryreader.wordpress.com/2012/12/05/an-interview-with-mayank-austen-soofi/
check also his book review in midday:
http://www.mid-day.com/lifestyle/2012/nov/251112-How-one-man-saw-red-in-Delhi.htm
review in tehelka:
http://www.tehelka.com/story_main54.asp?filename=hub08121BOOKS.asp
revew in indian express
http://www.indianexpress.com/news/the-red-and-the-unread/1039068
review in time of india website
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/books/A-book-about-life-in-Delhis-GB-Road/articleshow/17491543.cms
im searching for more. soofi should show them on his blog
@Thanks for sharing the loads of links … I read them all. I loved them.
I disagree with Ajachi Chakrabarti’s review and comments in Tehelka. I love MAS’s writing style. Chakrabarti is implying an impersonal approach would have been better … it would have dehumanized… by taking MAS as a person out of this context, it will remove the feeling of as if we being there … hurrr critics can be rubbish… those who can feel, they write. And faild critics become, err well CRITICS.
Well done MAS. proud of ya… hugssss bhai <3 lage raho.