[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] On this muggy morning he is sitting on his haunches, across the street from a crowded central Delhi chai stall, silently watching the passersby go about their lives. He’s dressed in colors — purple shirt and green chappals. His hair is combed neatly. In fact, one can spot a pink comb tucked into his shirt’s pocket. A blue handbag is placed beside him. “It has my auzaar (tools),” says Sanjay Kumar. He introduces himself as a palledar, a carpenter available on hire. “It’s my first day after many weeks,” says Mr Kumar. He explains that sitting on a public place is his way to advertise his services—he patiently waits for potential customers to approach him. They might

[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It’s very tough to make out who is who. Cheeku and Peeku are twins. Barely a month old. They don’t speak much. They stay together. And they seem to have recovered from the great loss they suffered a bit too soon in their life. “Their mother died a few days after their birth,” says Ratan Kumar. It is evening and he has brought Cheeku and Peeku for their regular evening outing in south Delhi's Deer Park. They live in nearby Jia Sarai village. Mr Kumar quietly watches as Cheeku and Peeku hover around his feet. It is a humid evening but the siblings are looking like fresh balls of snow. Cheeku and Peeku are rabbits.

[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] He would hardly be at home, and now he always is. But his music is going on in spite of that. In fact, you have to watch the acapella video he recently conceptualized of an iconic Pink Floyd song, bringing together dozens of home-bound singers... but wait, we can’t fast-forward our track. Recalling the texture of the pre-corona era, Yeashu Yuvraj, musician and photographer, confesses he is “an outdoorsy person, for whom home was only about dinner and sleep... my schedule was always hectic… I always had so many things to do.” The illusion that his life was meant to happen outdoors stayed with him for the initial days of the lockdown. But as time passed,

[Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] He doesn’t have a house, he says. But he does have possessions. “I carry them all the time with me,” says Vijay Kumar. This morning he is sitting on the steps of a shuttered shop in a central Delhi market. The lane is still largely empty. Mr Kumar’s possessions consist of a bag (with a broken strap) and a wooden walking stick. The black bag is crammed with personal stuff, so much so that it is bulging out on all sides like the cheeks of a naughty child holding water in his mouth, and refusing to swallow it down. While the bag’s zip does work, it is still tied with a strap of red