The mask sartorialist. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Elegant, his dressing style. His blue-and-white striped, long-sleeved shirt is going well with his gamchha, which is arrayed in a check pattern of of blue, pink and green. Both ends of the gamchha are falling on either sides of his shoulders, like a set of extra limbs, for decoration. But the most remarkable thing about rickshaw puller Pramod Kumar’s sartorial style is his pandemic-era mask. Especially when you compare it to the masks of folks going about him this afternoon, here in Gurgaon’s Roshanpura in the Greater Delhi Region. Their face covers are in plain shades, some are branded. But Mr Kumar’s mask is looking like a garden. It has a blue background

Life in the corona. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The spice seller is sitting behind sacks filled with powdered mirchi, haldi, dhaniya and garam masala. The boyish butcher is sitting with his knife, his chickens cooped up in wired cages. The pavement cart is stacked up with mangoes. The young man at the stationery shop is showing notepads to a customer. A bunch of women are chatting in a circle. Who said that life would never be the same again with the coronavirus pandemic? It certainly feels normal here. It is early evening in this south Delhi’s Zamrudpur village, and due to the recent relaxation in the lockdown, the narrow alley is returning to its former life. Or at least to

A story of many-layered clothes. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] On an intolerably hot and excessively humid morning, he’s wearing an overcoat and two jackets, along with two long-sleeved shirts and much else. “Why?” one is naturally prompted to put this question to him. Muhammed Shatabuddin Ali Hussain breaks into a radiant smile. He explains in a persuasive voice that “people who do good things never feel the atrocities of the summer season.” As a pavement dweller, the bearded gentleman points out that the clothes he’s wearing are all that he’s got. “I don’t have a suitcase where I can keep them,” he said. He lives alone outside a central Delhi temple and spends his days walking along the bazaar streets in this part of the

The Rajasthan elegance. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It’s easy to be extravagantly stylish. But only a few become that in a most effortless way. Such is the case with Bhairu, who seems to have jumped straight out of the cover of an old National Geographic magazine. The young man, spotted here in Gurgaon railway station in the Greater Delhi Region, is crowned with a majestic red turban. His dhoti is embroidered, but sparsely. His hands are a garden of tattooed flowers. His silver locket, gracefully falling over the white kurta, is embedded with two blue stones. A red diamond-like thing glimmers in the centre. Oh, and there’s also the distraction of his sparkling earrings, glowing like two midnight fireflies. Bhairu is wandering

Easy lies the head. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Sometimes, certain sartorial codes are so deeply rooted in the protocols of a person’s daily life that it is unimaginable for that individual to negotiate compromises with them. Farmer Maya Ram, for instance, never ever goes around the world bareheaded. “It is unthinkable for me to emerge out of my home nanga sar (head uncovered),” he declares. Sitting in a Gurgaon bus shelter waiting for a connection to his nearby village, Mr Ram asserts he always has something or the other covering his head. “Usually I wear a turban, but it has started to get warmer. And so, this morning, I tied a tauliya (towel).” In his 70s now, Mr Ram had started wearing

Style in the city. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Sitting alone on this South Delhi pavement, Muhammed Zaman’s fingers are adorned with all sorts of stones, including cool-looking plastic rings that are shaped into human skulls. His arms are heavy with metal bracelets. His nails are long and look manicured. Similar stuff can be spotted on his toe rings too, but only on one of the legs. The other is elegantly bare. Colourful necklaces dive down deep into the folds of his white kurta. And then there’s something even more stylish about this turbaned man that cannot be attained simply by wearing head-turning accessories. His face radiates a glow. It seems he has already achieved nirvana and freed himself of all

Style in the city. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Many people flock to Old Delhi for Red Fort or Chandni Chowk. If only they can spot the equally unique Hafizullah. This 80-year-old retired darzi, or tailor, is the only one in the Walled City to wear corduroy trousers daily without fail--at least that has been The Delhi Walla's observation. The soft-spoken gentleman stands out starkly from the rest of the crowd in all his sartorial elegance, more so because most men in this part of the city are seen either in pajamas or lungis. “I keep switching between my red and brown corduroys,” he reveals, looking amused at the interest being shown on his everyday dressing. This morning, while enjoying his customary

Style in the city. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] She almost never buys them but owns more than 300 sarees anyway. A startling detail that has transformed Bhavita Modi Sachdeva into something of an Instagram star. Visitors to travelista_in_saree get an exclusive peek into her vast wardrobe. This young lawyer explains that most of her sarees have come from her mother in San Francisco and the rest have been contributed by her mother-in-law in Allahabad. “But I rarely buy them,” she says in all modesty. We’re talking in her amiable apartment in south Delhi’s Mandakini Enclave which is also packed with law books — Ms Sachdeva and her husband have active legal practices. This profession has an impact on her saree wardrobe. Only black

Style in the city. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Two gorgeous saris are hanging down from her staircase. The blue chiffon bought 20 years ago in Lahore, Pakistan, is for tonight’s dinner — very apt indeed, as it is in the home of a Pakistani friend. The beige kora silk is for work tomorrow. Padmavati Dua — her friends call her Chinna — wears a sari every day and, hours before dressing up, she irons and hangs it on the handrail to avoid any creases. Her patients may know Dr Dua as a radiologist, but to most of us she is the woman who inundates her Facebook account with sari selfies. And that’s generous of her — after all, her saris are

Style in the city. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] She lives in a world of handwoven saris. Even the blinds of her drawing room are, well, saris (see second last picture at the bottom). One afternoon, The Delhi Walla enters the second-floor apartment of Jaya Jaitly in central Delhi’s idyllic Nizamuddin East. I want to see her sari closet, said to be one of the most beautiful in the capital. Only a few people in Delhi are known for their great collection of handloom saris. Some of the names that immediately come to mind are that of craft activist Laila Tyabji and thumri singer Vidya Rao. And, of course, Jaya Jaitly, the founder president of Dastkari Haat Samiti, an association of crafts