At The Book Shop, Jorbagh Market. [Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi] One afternoon, The Delhi Walla sighted his most beloved Delhiite – author Arundhati Roy. She was browsing at The Book Shop, Jorbagh. Ms Roy was looking as she always looks – interesting. Her gaze was kind. A mischievous smile was playing on her thin lips. But her eyes were searching for something elusive. It was not the bookshelves for sure. From such close proximity, Ms Roy did not seem very tall and yet her presence was towering. However, she was carrying no book. No tiny diamond was gleaming in her nostril. Her arms were folded and there was a bag slung on her left shoulder. Two necklaces were grazing her absurdly beautiful

The Delhi walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls - Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks GO STRAIGHT TO MORE STORIESContact mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com for ad enquiries.Being Indian in the Indian Capital.[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]On August, 2009, Ahmed Dev, 21, will move to Delhi from his ancestral home at Lal Chowk in Srinagar, Kashmir. This soft-spoken, English-speaking, hip-hop playing young man will be pursuing a pilot training course in an institute in Gurgaon. But Mr Dev is hardly in love with Delhi. "People in this city are selfish, they don't know how to drive and the air is really polluted," he told me while we were taking a walk one late night in

Delhi's celebrated author in his winter years. [Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi] One night, during the first half of April, 2009, Delhi's legendary author Khushwant Singh, said to be 95-year-old, fell off from his bed while sleeping at his home in Sujan Singh Park, a graceful if crumbly apartment complex very close to Khan Market. It was pitch dark; Mr Singh stumbled around but could not get up. He then called for his son Rahul who was unable to pick him. A security guard was later summoned from outside and only then was the author of such classics like Train to Pakistan and A History of the Sikhs was brought back to his bed. Luckily, there were no injuries. "I'm very worried,"

Delhi is becoming less courteous. [Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi] No longer can Delhi's cobblers ply their trade with a clean conscience. With Lajpat Nagar-based journalist Jarnail Singh doing an al-Zaidi on India's home minister during a press conference in the city on April 7th, 2009, not just the soul of Mr Singh's profession but the way we Delhiwallas protest has acquired a new sole. Quite a few Delhiites I talked to have raised sole-stirring questions. "Why throw a joota?" asks Mr Sumantha Roy, a 26-year-old IT professional in Noida. "In these times of pink slips, throwing pink panties would have been a bigger and classier insult." In the recent past, Delhiites haven't thrown just shoes, but also saliva on public figures

The Delhi walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls - Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks GO STRAIGHT TO MORE STORIESContact mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com for ad enquiries.The great city has grown less great.[Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi]The Delhi Walla went to Bombay and felt like a villager. In this city, the traffic moves faster, the local trains chug faster, the people walk faster. The skyscrapers, too, are taller. While Delhi's Rajpath is a hush-hush stretch of trimmed grass, pruned trees, police barricades, Marine Drive with its reclaimed land, high-rises, rush hour traffic is a testament to the materialistic world's enterprise.In Bombay, I went to the old wing of the Taj hotel, the site

The Delhi walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls - Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks GO STRAIGHT TO MORE STORIESContact mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com for ad enquiries.He died on March 29th, aged 25.[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]Qasim Ali, a resident of Daryaganj in Old Delhi, a journalist, an occasional photographer and my friend died on March 29, 2009, aged 25. Early this year he was diagnosed with leukaemia. Thereafter he was admitted in Rajiv Gandhi Cancer Institute, Rohini, from where he was not able to return home. Mr Ali, who is survived by his parents and an elder brother, always encouraged me with my writing. We had also planned to walk around in Daryaganj

The Delhi walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls - Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks GO STRAIGHT TO MORE STORIESContact mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com for ad enquiries.He is against job reservations for Dalits.[Text and picture by Mayank Austen Soofi]His life could be like the plot of an old Amitabh Bachchan film. Both his grandfather and father were sweepers. Both met with an accident while on the job. Grandfather died. Father got soft in the head so mother got the father's job. Meanwhile, Mr Praveen Parcha grew up to become a painter by passion with a day-job as a call centre employee. He is a 25-year-old school-dropout who lives in Delhi's Valmiki Sadan, popularly known as Dalit

The Delhi walla's pretension in writing makes me want to lodge a bullet in his balls - Blogger Nimpipi, the woodchuck chucks GO STRAIGHT TO MORE STORIESContact mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com for ad enquiries.Delhi's sole Saturday night gay disco is horrid.[Text by Anonymous; picture by Gigi Elmes; this is a visual representation of Polka Club where photography is not permitted]It is true the arrangements at Kailash Colony's Polka Club, the only Saturday night disco for Delhi's gay people, are completely horrid. (You may also like to read: City Life – Gay Saturdays at Polka Club, Kailash Colony)The organisers at Polka seem to have completely missed out on the 'pink' factor beyond managing to entice the rupee in that colour. Come to think of