One of the one percent in 13 million.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Such huge crowds, he remarks on peering down from the window of his parents’ upper-floor bedroom. The view of the narrow intersecting lanes is partly obstructed by loopy power cables. Oblivious to the chaos below, grey pigeons are silently circling about the rooftops.

This pulsating world of Old Delhi’s Chitli Qabar Chowk virtually courses through Zubair Ul Hasan’s bloodstream. In his late 20s, he is the grandson of an acclaimed Urdu poet, and has spent all his years here at his family residence, overlooking the Walled City intersection.

But now Chitli Qabar must adjust its bonds with Zubair. Early in the year, he boarded a flight for the first time, landing worlds away, in Amsterdam, to start his new job as an auditor in a Dutch company. A week ago, he returned to Chitli Qabar to marry a woman chosen by his Ammi and Abba. His fiancée Mehvish Khan is a primary school teacher. They haven’t yet met. The couple will fly to Europe by the month-end, after their wedding, due this week at Frolic Farms & Banquets in Noida.

“I haven’t stepped out of the house, except for a haircut in CP,” says Zubair. He shoots a glance out of the window. “In Amsterdam, the streets rarely get crowded.. the only crowded places are the gyms.” He points out that “everyone in Amsterdam follows rules, and the city is always kept clean.” It goes unsaid that in Chitli Qabar nobody is surprised if a window suddenly flaps open and out flies a garbage bag hitting the street, or a head. Most streets in Old Delhi anyway have no bins. “In Amsterdam, there are three different bins for different types of garbage.”

Meanwhile, Zubair’s parents are sitting beside him, half-listening. The mother is giving directions to the “tailor master” for her gharara. The father has his eyes closed. “Our family is rooted to Purani Dilli… but Ammi drilled into me that I must get out of here for the sake of my better future.” The mother smiles and frowns simultaneously.

Zubair continues. “In Amsterdam, wherever you go, you have to stand in a queue, and patiently wait for your turn, no matter how long it might take.”

After some moments, his right elbow resting on the smooth ledge of the window, Zubair rests his palm against his forehead and gazes out straight towards Haveli Azam Khan street, saying: “In Amsterdam, I would miss Delhi… in Delhi, I’m missing Amsterdam.”

[This is the 594th portrait of Mission Delhi project]