The Old Delhi encyclopedia.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

In the olden times, when the Sunday Book Bazar of Mahila Haat unfolded every week along the long Daryaganj pave, it was the Lohe Wala Pul that marked the market’s last point. The foot-over iron bridge was dismantled more than a decade ago.

That was the area’s first loss.

The next landmark to go was barber Baldev Raj’s long-time pavement establishment at the foot of the bridge. Baldev Raj hasn’t been seen for three years. And aloo paratha vendor Abdul Rehman, who would set up his stall next to Baldev Raj, wasn’t seen for months until he returned a day ago. He was unwell, he explains.

In brief, the opening segment of David Street is permeated with a feel of absences.

The Old Delhi lane however becomes livelier ahead. Argumentative tea drinkers are gathered about Mushtaq’s buzzy chai stall, the air scented with the aroma of doodh and adrak.

The lane goes past scores of businesses dealing with AC “spare parts.” These shops are dwarfed by a grand mansion standing at the mouth of the street. The building’s name is sculpted in giant lettering—Hanging Bridge. This must undoubtedly refer to the vanished Lohe Wala Pul.

And soon, an unusual scene appears on wading deeper into the gali. A long darkened hall is filled with many men lying sprawled on the floor–Rehmat, Ghani, Rizwan, Azrur, Ikram, Waris, Zahid, Babul, Ashiq, Shafique, Azeem, Asif, and Gulfam. The “construction material” labourers are awaiting the next assignment, meantime watching the India-Bangladesh cricket match on TV. The men live together in the big hall. By the entrance, a small broken piece of a mirror is nailed to a wall. A green comb is hanging by a thread from the ceiling.

Outside along the lane, on pestering a passerby about the David of David Street, he obligingly points to a house some steps away. The bell is rung. After a prolonged wait, the door flaps open. Leena Kapoor confirms that she is the great-grand-daughter-in-law of Saul David, the man who gave his name to the street. She graciously agrees to pose for a portrait. See photo.

PS: The house number in the photo has been smudged over for privacy reasons.