Year's consolation. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] They are dropping from the tree, hitting the ground—plop! Some of them burst, squirting their purple juice. Some lie whole, waiting for an unsuspecting person to step on them and slip. But no passerby is picking up the berries, despite the fact that jamuns can be so yum. Not even jamun seller Ajay, sitting cross-legged steps away from the tree, here on a pave, in Green Park Market. Ajay’s basket of jamuns are sourced from Azadpur Subzi Mandi, he says, where they had came from Pushkar in Rajasthan. Why doesn’t he get them straight from any of the jamun trees lining the city streets? He silently shrugs. Miles away in Turkman Gate