Prose and poem on the Delhi smog. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The mourning (sorry, morning!) sky is sandstorm yellow, so is the earth and everything between the sky and earth, though no storm is brewing. The distant trees lurk like djinns in black robes, here near Noida Mor. In such a hazardous setting, a cyclist has parked his cycle by the deserted roadside. His hands are tucked within the pants pockets. His head is bend sideward, as he stands statue-still amid the extraordinary smog engulfing Delhi. The scene is surreal. See photo. The previous evening, designer Payal Singh was celebrating her birthday at her sixth floor apartment in Ghaziabad when she received a desperate WhatsApp message from her sister