Delhi Metro – The Sunset Journey, Blue Line
The midsummer’s sunset metro line.
[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]
Over the centuries the good people of Delhi have painstakingly learned to cope with stifling summer heat. But it’s admittedly hard to form some sort of friendship with the harsh sun. What may be easier is seeking out a tentative bonding at sunset from any number of enchanting viewpoints in the capital.
Alternatively, you may like to experience a twilight trip on the Blue Line, boarding the westbound Metro train at Rajiv Chowk. Shortly after boarding, as the train emerges from the tunnel, you’ll immediately spot the burning-red evening sun glinting behind ramshackle buildings and roofs of Paharganj and Karol Bagh — on the right-side windows of the coach.
At other times the sun casts pools of golden light illuminating the faces of commuters. A tired 9-5 office-goer suddenly appears as something more than merely mobile phone mortal — a brief illusion that jolts the mind.
As the train moves forward it seems as though the driver is determined to catch the sun, as though everyone in the coaching is moving towards it. Just another illusion, of course, but perhaps worth experiencing in the knowledge that even illusions can be hugely comforting.
Somewhere between Shadipur and Kirti Nagar the train whisks past ordinary highrises that now are drenched in golden hues. Other times the sun plays hide and seek with the commuter’s sensibilities, appearing now and then between buildings, now vanishing, now re-appearing.
And vanish it finally does, as gentle eve settles upon the vastness of a city now, at long last, cooling off.
The most beautiful ‘sunset trip’ may be had on the Yellow Line where the train pops up in the wilderness near Qutb Minar. On cloudy or rainy days I get off at Qutb Minar station and direct my gaze towards that most beautiful of all Delhi landscapes : the gently undulating green of the Aravali hills dotted with tombs and gardens.
This oasis retains its verdant aspect even at the height of the summer, when the sun beats down without remission. The blazing yellow of Amaltas and Bougainvillea’s bright pinks add flashes of color to this sea of variegated green. But it is during the monsoon that this region assumes a mantle of the lushest green. One may observe flocks of peacocks and Nilgai herds through the low canopy of the forest. The rains wash away months of dust and grime off the tombs and garden walls. On cool mornings a low, diaphanous veil of mist obscures the forest floor so the tops of trees seem to float in the air. It is this very scenery that was described a millennium ago by a Jaina poet of Delhi, Vibuha Sirihara :
jahiN gayan mandalaalaggu saalu
ran mandav parimandiu visaalu
(where the walls of the fort rise to the skies and which is surrounded by a great canopy of trees)
Using the mind’s eye one can see how this region was once celebrated for its monsoon beauty and mango orchards. One can also imagine how makeshift swings were set up in the mango trees and people sang this ‘geet’ composed by the beloved Emperor of Delhi ,”बाग़ अँधेरी ताल किनारे झूला किन्ने डालो री अमरैया ” ( baagh andheri taal kinaare jhoola kinne daalo ri amraiyya)