Rest in sleep. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It is almost midnight. He is lying sprawled on the road divider. He seems to be sleeping. His eyes are closed. The headlights of a speeding car fall on his figure, illuminating him momentarily. The car goes away; the man is again plunged into the city’s incomplete darkness. This is a scene on south Delhi’s Aurobindo Marg. The sight of this man on this spot in the city is unique because, after all, each of us has an individual identity. It is a part of basic courtesy to emphasize the exclusiveness of this anonymous person. Having said that, The Delhi Walla confesses that most of the times the homeless people sleeping on the pavements

Women watching. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The beautiful people of the capital’s diplomatic world trickled in one after another. One evening The Delhi Walla attended the Italian Unification Celebration on the grassy grounds of the Italian embassy in Central Delhi. A foreign woman outshone everyone in a blue sari. Curiously, she was wandering around all by herself--she looked melancholic. Another woman wore a dazzling white pearl necklace, or perhaps the necklace wore the woman. One elderly woman came with her elegant walking stick. Another very elderly woman in a pious-looking sari was crowned by a hair-style too grand for even a Maharani—somebody said she was Mahatma Gandhi’s granddaughter (see photo 10 below). Also spotted: a good old braid, the only one

Beauty lost. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] What's gone wrong with Jama Masjid?! It is morning and the grand Mughal-era mosque is still standing on its centuries-old spot but there is no trace of its yesterday’s grandness. It is looking nothing special. The glorious beauty has been hijacked by the February sky. But dear Jama Masjid, weep not and please do not burn out with envy. Always remember we are the world’s most polluted city and this sky has been lent to us merely on temporary loan. It will be taken back and you shall regain your glory. And O you deceptive sky, you are not one of us and The Delhi Walla refuses to fall in love with you. Season's illusions 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

The great riddle. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] What is India Gate and what is Gateway of India? The first monument is in Delhi and the second is in Bombay. But there’s a greater riddle. What is chappal and what is sandal? Well, they are footwear and they are not shoes. But how are they different from each other? The riddle has finally been solved. The Delhi High Court has ruled that woman’s footwear without a strap at the back is a sandal, and not a chappal. The Delhi Walla will finally sleep peacefully for all nights to come. For years, I have been walking across the city and snooping around peoples’ sandals and chappals. This photo essay, obviously, is dedicated to Lord Justice S Ravindra Bhat and

Floating visions from The Delhi Walla’s online archives. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] 'Somewhere in Delhi' is a collaborative work between The Delhi Walla, and Anna Gerotto, a designer in Venice (see photo 5a below). Since 2007, I have been collecting hundreds of stories taking place in Delhi, through writing and photography, for my blogsite, thedelhiwalla.com. Every day, I walk around the city with my camera and notebook to track down the part of extraordinary that exists in the seemingly mundane aspects of our urban lives. By exploring and documenting the streets, buildings, houses, cuisines, traditions and people of Delhi, I’m attempting to find the intimate voice of the megalopolis, and to capture the passing of time in this otherwise restlessly

A refuge to remember forever. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It is utterly quiet. The reading lamp is glowing like smoldering coal. The bed sheets are as white as the Arctic. It is more than midnight. The Delhi Walla is inside the most beautiful hotel room in the world. Beingsattvaa is a place in Bali, Indonesia, that I cannot afford. And yet, this room is mine. For free. Because I'm a writer. I have been invited in this capacity at the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival. It is my sixth night in the hotel. The literature festival ended with a party a few hours ago. I will leave for Delhi after a few hours. My books and clothes are scattered all over the

Time regained. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] In Delhi, there is a place called Old Delhi. In Old Delhi, there are many, many narrow alleys, so narrow that the sun never penetrates into them. One such narrow lane has an old house. It has old doors, old windows, old tiles, old fireplaces, old dust-covered books, old mirrors and even old-style wash basins (see picture 19 below). It has multiple sets of staircases, multiple sets of balconies, and multiple sets of terraces. The faded blue walls look like Pacific Ocean. The old house, however, usually remains empty. Now, a family is moving in and the old house is being made new. Some early elements have already been replaced. New elements are being added.

The people of the aquarium. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Such delicate figure, such slender arms and all of her essence so perfectly condensed into her long white pearl necklace. And look at the woman there. Her white hair are fit enough for a Balkan queen. And that black woman in a pure black dress that leaves enough gap at a strategic spot for us to admire her bare black shoulder. All these marvelous people are so different from us. It is like watching exotic fish in a glass aquarium. One evening The Delhi Walla attended a party to celebrate the German Unity Day at the German ambassador’s residence. His sprawling lawns in the diplomatic enclave of Shantipath were a fairy world

Entry without the I-card. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The intruder entered without making any sound. One evening The Delhi Walla witnessed a daring act of trespassing. The intruder sneaked into the highly secured Mausam Bhawan in Central Delhi. This sensitive installation in the heart of the national capital annually allots floods and droughts to different parts of the country. It is India Meteorological Department. The intruder hoodwinked the blue-uniformed security guard by walking past him with the (misplaced) confidence of a weather forecaster. The next obstacle was a board, saying, “Please display your identity card.” The intruder ignored the request and went on. That was the last time the intruder was seen. While one cannot say with certainty about any sinister plot