Mom-and-Pop around the corner.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

In black Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses and a black Givenchy dress, Audrey Hepburn gazes at a Tiffany window in New York. This iconic portrait of the actress is hanging on the wall of a coffee shop in Delhi.

Once, outlets of this same Café Turtle thrived in some of our city’s fanciest markets. One by one, they all shut down—except for this one, located in Delhi’s most discreet commercial destination. Nizamuddin East Market must be the capital’s quietest bazar, nestled along the back lane of Nizamuddin East. It is as serene as the colony streets, the only sounds being the incessant cawing of crows, the circling cries of kites, and the announcements from Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway Station.

Once, Delhi’s neighbourhood markets—Khan Market, Defence Colony Market, and the like—exuded the original middle-class vibes of their surroundings. That era is gone. The neighbourhoods have changed, so have their markets.

Nizamuddin East has also changed. The colony, no longer “middle-class,” is home to super-rich. But the market, may be due to its aloof location, preserves the feel of a small mohalla– one of those places where everybody seems to know everybody, and where the shops shut down every afternoon for siesta. In fact, Arora Stores shuts down daily from 2pm to 4.30 for lunch. But unlike mohalla groceries, its shelves are packed with jams from France, coffee from Italy, and chocolates from Switzerland. Yet, the shop remains desi and hyperlocal. This evening, a portable music player, placed between imported peanut butter jars, is playing an old Lata Mangeshkar song—‘Rulake gaya sapna mera,” while staffer Narender Chandel is softly chatting with a customer. Proprietor Ajay Arora—his makan is right above the dukan—shows a folded clipping of the International Herald Tribune, dated 1998. The article shows him and his store in a business story headlined “India’s mom-and-pops hold off supers.”

More than 25 years have passed since then, and the shop still holds on to its mom-and-pop—see photo of Ajay with wife Suman. His father, Ramchand, had founded the shop in 1951.

Indeed, despite its share of hoity-toity businesses, Nizamuddin East Market is holding onto its disarming charm. Perhaps some credit for it goes to tailor master Mansoor, who sits with his sewing machine under a peepal tree. Or Taneja Restaurant, that serves tasty and cheap aloo parathas. Or paan seller Jata Shankar whose kiosk doubles as an adda for smokers. Or Rajouria Dry Cleaners (drycleaner Surinder lives just behind his establishment which has been existing since 1952). Or even Kulfi, the lazy community dog.

And at night, when alleys are empty and lights are on behind the windows of adjacent B and C Blocks, rickshaw puller Mintullah raises his pink mosquito net outside a shuttered shop, turning a spot of Nizamuddin East Market into his resting space.