The Walled City encyclopedia.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

Some walls are continuing to stand, so do some shelves and doorways. A flight of stairs as well. All else has become a huge pile of bricks. Anyhow the debris of the old building, which locals say fell some years ago, looks integrated to the texture of the land. This afternoon, passers-by are haring by busily, no one looking at this heap.

Such is the surreal start to Gali Chunnamal. Located close to the Walled City’s vanished city wall, the lane this afternoon is dappled in shade, splashed here and there with spheres and squares of sunshine. The gali is rich in stylish old doors; all of which are locked. Some are covered in dust, their latches densely cobwebbed. They must not have been touched for years.

Steps ahead, the “iron wala” Nafasat is sitting motionless at his ironing establishment—see photo. All the clothes and linen in the shop are lying ironed and folded. The man finally stirs, muttering about “not much work these days… things slow down during the winter… maybe people wash laundry more frequently during the summer…”

Close by, at Ayub’s grocery, the stone-faced Ayub is seated behind the shop’s darkened counter. He too is motionless. Soon enough a man in white jacket, white pants and white shoes stops at the grocery. A red kerchief is knotted around his neck. The conversation turns to the long-ago Chunnamal of Gali Chunnamal. “He was my dada,” the man in white asserts, tapping defiantly on his chest. The grocer frowns, discreetly indicating the claim to be false. A passer-by stops to take part in the discussion, and claims that a long time ago, before they all were born, a certain Chunnamal lived in the area, his grand haveli extending across the entire street.

This could be a mere legend, for no sign of such a house exists. A few other fellows express total ignorance of the man who gave his name to the street. Actually, a famous haveli exists of the same name elsewhere in the Walled City, in Chandni Chowk, but nobody in the gali is in a position to confidently say if the gali and the haveli concern the same Chunnamal.

The street actually ought to be called Gali Shocker Wali because it is full of machine workshops producing the so-called shockers for automobiles. In fact, a shop whose banner declares it to be Spark Beauty Parlour turns out to be just one of the many shocker-making workshops.

On wading deeper into the lane, the shop banners abruptly start bearing another street-name—Gali Patte Wali. Without any change of the pathway (not even any sharp turn!) we have already stepped out of Chunnamal. And yet the world is still feeling like the same old Chunnamal.