On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] “All across the distance and spaces between us…” An instrumental rendition of Celine Dion’s love song from the movie Titanic is playing from the speakers this evening in Central Park, underneath which lies the harried world of a super-busy Metro station. In this circular garden, tucked within the heart of circular Connaught Place, a woman is standing by the pool, mesmerised by the cascading fountains (see photo). Some distance away, the sunken stage of the park’s amphitheater is milling with a group of storytelling people sitting in a circle. The grassy slopes, the walking tracks, and the benches too are occupied. This park is special—it is a metaphor

On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Suddenly the silver-grey coaches of the Violet Line glints into view, far in the horizon (see photo). The train runs past a backdrop of high-rises. But the ground beneath the elevated tracks is a different universe—carpeted with grass, trees, flowers, and with folks lolling on the slopes with their mobiles, soaking in the December sun. This has to be the most ideal spot to watch the millennium-era majesty of Delhi and its Metro. Aastha Kunj Park is a brief walk from Nehru Place Metro station. A new train appears after every two-three minutes. The rail tracks too look magical. They resemble a line drawn to keep the business towers

On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [By Mayank Austen Soofi] The many lines of the Delhi Metro have stitched our vast, unwieldy, smoggy city into a multi-coloured embroidery. It has also rummaged its way into the fabric of our creative lives. The rail figures in films, music videos, novels, blogs, Facebook posts, and Instagram stories. Here’s an artwork by poet-commuter Jonaki Ray, who composed a new poem exclusively for us to mark the network’s 20th. Her first poetry collection, Firefly Memories, is releasing early next year. Lives on lines The windows of the Yellow Line snapshot history—the temples at Chattarpur, the soaring tower of Qutb that nods later to the new rulers—the MNC buildings, unloading armies of backpacks and blue-id-tags. Taking a

On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [Photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] A climate change professional and a literary critic, Nikhil Kumar shares a memorable episode of his reading life on the Metro. "IT TOOK me around a hundred Metro rides, or a month-and-a-half to-and-fro from home to office, to read Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy. All the 1474 pages of it. "I became accustomed to the rhythms of the Metro when the one of the few lines was from C-Sec (Central Secretariat) to Vishwavidyalaya. Initially, I would jostle to find a perch, and after a few stations when one did find it, shrink in the seat—cowering like a sparrow before a gale in a niche—and doze off on the neighbour’s shoulder. Soon,

On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] At 78, the turbaned gentleman must be among very few Delhiites of his age to travel daily on the Metro. He has a day-job to do. The venerable Charanjeet Singh is the face of Wenger’s, the colonial-era cake shop in colonial-era Connaught Place. As the manager, he is often spotted standing behind the main counter, chatting to customers and booking orders for special cakes. Plus, he often gives chocolates to regulars for free. His calmly presence in the crowded shop is magical. One wonders how he always looks so relaxed, for his commute is long enough to exhaust even a man of twenty. Charanjeet Singh lives in Vikas Puri, and

On the 20th anniversary of Delhi Metro. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] A young woman in Old Delhi, or Delhi 6, steps out of her house, with a large stole or dupatta purposely hiding the dress beneath. She walks along a congested street, or perhaps she sits in a rickshaw. She reaches the underground station at Chawri Bazar, boards the Yellow Line Metro, and some time later, the same woman emerges from the escalators, into the openness of New Delhi, but without the stole. A somewhat similar scene appeared in the 2009 movie Delhi-6, in the song Masakali, as if to suggest a degree of freedom that can be experienced by a woman outside the limits of her Old Delhi. Is