Delhi’s Bandaged Heart – Emily Dickinson, Somewhere in Normandy City Poetry by The Delhi Walla - December 15, 2016December 15, 20161 Poetry in the world. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] She is like a myth in her neighbourhood--it is rare she steps out of her homestead. On a recent evening, however, poet Emiliy Dickinson is spotted wandering aimlessly out in the open at a village in upper Normandy, France. She shares three poems of hers with The Delhi Walla. 1. I never saw a Moor — I never saw the Sea — Yet know I how the Heather looks, And what a Billow be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven — Yet certain am I of the spot As if the Checks were given — 2. Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved — The Site—of it—by Architect Could
City Life – The Art of Currency Garland, Chitli Qabar Chowk General by The Delhi Walla - December 13, 2016November 13, 20170 The poetry of money. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Money is a kind of poetry, said a corporate lawyer who was also a great American poet. Nowhere is Wallace Stevens’ maxim more evident than in the work of the “note mala” makers—their nimble fingers deftly turn a prosaic medium of purchase into a work of art; indeed, the craft of making a garland of banknotes has its own rhythm, like the cadence of poetry. These garlands are made for bridegrooms, many of whom keep the garlands for life. The Delhi Walla came across note mala maker Muhammed Sadiq in Old Delhi’s Chitli Qabar Chowk. He also sells flowers and his stall is next to a “ladies tailor”. While ATMs spit out crisp small-value notes
City Food – Daal Chaat, Around Town Food by The Delhi Walla - December 12, 20161 The zesty health punch. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Shocking. It is not deep-fried and yet it is a popular and cheap street food of Delhi. What’s the appeal? Served in a leaf bowl, daal chaat is sprouted moth beans tossed with boiled potato cubes, chopped tomatoes and onions, then seasoned with a squeeze of lemon and a dash of salt. The mixture is topped with coriander leaves. In the inner circle of colonial-era Connaught Place, the vendors set up stalls in the open space between the pillared corridors. Sprouted daal is arranged in a pyramid on the top of the bamboo stand called a tarauna. The sight tempts the wandering eyes of shoppers. Take a closer look and you
Photo Essay – ‘Somewhere in Delhi’ Exhibition, Goa Arts & Literature Festival Photo Essays by The Delhi Walla - December 9, 2016December 10, 20162 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
Julia Child in Delhi – Author Rosalyn D’Mello and Her Sister Ramona Cook Goan Green Curry Chicken, Kailash Hills Julia Child's Delhi by The Delhi Walla - December 8, 2016December 8, 20162 The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] I love to cook with wine—says a placard hanging on her drawing room wall. One night The Delhi Walla enters the second-floor apartment of Rosalyn D'Mello, the author of A Handbook for My Lover. Ms D’Mello shares her home in Kailash Hills with her sister, Ramona, who works in a publishing house. The two women are from Goa—but they grew up in Kurla, Bombay—a calendar in the kitchen shows a picture of that city's St Andrew's Church (see photo 4 below). And, in case you are wondering, both Ms D'Mello and her sister do mull over wine while playing around with pots and pans. Sometimes they... well, never mind. Ms D'Mello,
Atget’s Corner – 981-985, Delhi Photos Delhi Pics by The Delhi Walla - December 6, 20163 The visible city. [By Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi is a voyeur’s paradise and The Delhi Walla also makes pictures. I take photos of people, streets, flowers, eateries, drawing rooms, tombs, landscapes, buses, colleges, Sufi shrines, trees, animals, autos, libraries, birds, courtyards, kitchens and old buildings. My archive of more than 1,00,000 photos showcases Delhi’s ongoing evolution. Five randomly picked pictures from this collection are regularly put up on the pages of this website. The series is named in the memory of French artist Eugène Atget (1857-1927), who, in the words of a biographer, was an “obsessed photographer determined to document every corner of Paris before it disappeared under the assault of modern improvements.” Here are Delhi photos numbered 981 to 985. 981. Krishna Nagri 982. Jawaharlal Nehru
City Obituary – Old Delhi’s Urdu Poet Rauf Raza is Dead, Gali Mem Walli General by The Delhi Walla - December 5, 2016December 5, 20164 End of a world. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It began like just another winter morning. Urdu poet Rauf Raza woke up at six, performed his ablution, and offered the fajra prayer--at home though usually he would always go out to Masjid Syyed Rifai, the neighborhood mosque. Later, he briefly stepped inside his son's bedroom to switch on the water pump and then he went to the kitchen to make tea for himself and his wife. Everyone else was still sleeping. Soon afterwards he started to feel uneasy. The end came with a massive heart attack at half past eight. Mr Raza, whose poetry documented the gentle ironies of contemporary life, died on 2 December 2016, aged 62. He resided in
Letter from the ATM Queue – “I Had a Fiery Dispute With Two Particularly Off-Putting Women”, Khan Market General by The Delhi Walla - December 4, 2016December 4, 20162 From the heart of the conflict zone. [Text by Sanchita Guha; photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Note: This piece is by Sanchita Guha, a Delhi writer dreaded by all those uncivilised men in this city who either dare to piss on streets or are foolish enough to jump a queue when she is around. December 2, 2016. 6.25 pm at Khan Market. And it suddenly looked like I might get some of that elusive cash. I had walked past this ATM an hour earlier, and had asked the guard if bank notes might be loaded anytime that evening. He had said yes. But I hadn’t been too hopeful. More than three weeks after demonetisation was announced, I was one of those people to
Netherfield Ball – William Dalrymple of Jaipur Literature Festival Exposes His Rumored Friendship with Namita Gokhale of Jaipur Literature Festival at Her Book Launch, The Taj Mahal Hotel City Parties by The Delhi Walla - December 2, 2016December 2, 20162 The party secrets. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Et tu William Dalrymple? The great historian who, in his usual modest fashion, brought ignominious Delhi to the notice of the wider world showed up shockingly late at the launch of Things to Leave Behind, and failed to mention the happy occasion on his very, very active Twitter, Facebook and Instagram accounts. Many were taken aback, and rightly so. After all, this novel is authored by his accomplice Namita Gokhale. The two of them are the very powerful co-directors of the authoritative Jaipur literature Festival. And, as everyone knows, Namita Gokhale and William Dalrymple also happen to be very, very close friends (chuckles). This was a pleasantly polluted evening in the terrace garden
City Food – The Morally Appalling Carrot Cake, The Big Chill Cakery, Khan Market Food by The Delhi Walla - November 30, 2016November 30, 20163 Disgracefully delicious. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It is morally appalling. The carrot cake at The Big Chill Cakery bakery in Delhi's Khan Market has to be the most politically incorrect dish in this city of vast disparities. It is too rich. The creamy layer is as thick as the smog that hangs over this miserable metropolis. The very sight looks disgusting. And it is so delicious. A single slice of this cake is as filling as the half kilogram of Gulab Jamuns at Nathu Sweets—it is that gigantic. Even if you don't count the cream (which is impossible of course), this is still Titanic. The crumbly part by itself is worth a night-long debauchery. The cream, however, is like a narcotic. It launches