Summertime heritage. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Citizen Nizam doesn’t think much of himself. “What is special about me?”—he asks, genuinely perplexed on being photographed. Well, good sir, you happen to be among the last flag-bearers of an…
High-altitude living. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] This is a tree. This tree has a nest. This nest has a bird. It is the very heart of our smoggy megapolis—a small plaza in commercial Connaught Place, right outside…
For the record. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Gone. Shah Music Centre had hundreds of LPs. Those ‘Long Play’ discs storing half hour of music, before needing to be turned over, have long been out of use, but…
Shrine to Saturday. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Once upon a time, very long ago, a Walled City gali was home to a community of citizens called dakot. They workshopped Shani Dev and would ask for dakshina, or…
Language’s heritage. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Attention, heritage lovers, look at this Urdu typewriter. It is a most suitable sight for Delhi, a sheher of many writers, which is also a sheher where Urdu—a cosmopolitan khichdi of…
A welcoming street. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Some parts so silent and deserted, others full of bustle and sounds. Most of Gali Gudaryan is like a baggy wide megapolis where people come from all corners of…
Monuments to water. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] He raises his arms, lowers his head, stands motionless, seeming to take a deep breathe, and—oh look—he is jumping down from his high altitude! Splash. He crash-lands into the water….
In cold red. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi’s monuments are usually made of red sandstone. One exception is a red sherbet, its origins tightly entwined into the dense tapestry of Purani Dilli’s rich history. Say salam-namaste to…
Midnight’s street. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The groceries, the veggie stalls, the lazy dogs, the cats, the rats, and us people. Everything’s ordinary along the street. Until it isn’t. The dull spell is broken on spotting a…
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