A nip in the air. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The world in Delhi changed on the morning of 28 October 2015. “It is finally cold,” said Arshad Ali Fehmi (see above), an Old Delhi resident. He was seated on his roof. “Next month my sister will visit us from Canada. She always likes to come to Delhi in the winter.” Usually, the change in the season is barely perceived. One day, it is warm and every man is seen in a shirt or vest, like the day before. The next day, the same people are spotted in a jacket or shawl. The Delhi Walla spent a day picking up clues of the approaching cold. In Humayunpur village, quilts and blankets were spread out

Trees of Delhi. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] It does not offer much protection from the harsh sun, yet its meager shade is comforting. One afternoon The Delhi Walla saw a Neem tree on Lodhi Road. There were other trees in the vicinity that were bigger and denser and more majestic but this Neem looked special. It belongs to Bachchan Dev Ram. A shoe repairer, he sits under this tree daily. Mr Ram converted it into his establishment about eight years ago. The tools of his trade are neatly arranged on one side of the tree – stacks of shoes and sandals alongside rubber soles and shoe-polish brushes. A bunch of shoe laces is hung on a branch, along with

The monsoon clouds. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] The Delhi sky is noted for its impenetrable grayness. One recent evening the ongoing rainy season briefly interfered with that constancy of character. Perhaps you too noticed it if you happened to be in the area around that time. Just as the day was beginning to end, the city sky over the old neighbourhood of Daryaganj showed up an artwork of rare beauty. The dark rainy clouds of the season dissipated a little and revealed patches of clear blue. The departing sun lost no opportunity to make its presence felt. Receding for miles on either side of the Netaji Subhash Road, the sky, however, did not keep even a small proportion of the

The summer blossom. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Perhaps it is unreasonable to expect too much richness in a Third World city--the Amaltas disappoints Delhi this summer. There are hardly any yellow flowers to be seen on Hailey Road. In other summers, the Amaltas trees used to turn that central Delhi lane into the city’s most scenic destination. But we can always scavenge for happiness. Make a noon-time trip to Second Avenue, the path that links Lodhi Road to Jor Bagh Road. There, just beyond Bharat Taxi Stand, a couple of Amaltas trees stand together. The sight is dramatic. You feel as if you have entered a tropical forest of bright yellow flowers. Park yourself under one of the trees.

The summer disappointment. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] This is a most unusual summer. There is only a little yellow here, and that too pale. The Delhi Walla is walking on central Delhi’s Hailey Road, an avenue lined on both sides with Amaltas trees, which blossom every summer with their customary yellow flowers. Like the preceding years, the white-hot season of 2015 is full of brutal marvels--a zebra crossing near Safdarjung Hospital melted under the baking sun. One thought one could console oneself by turning to the yellow flowers of Hailey Road. But the Amaltas trees here have stabbed us in the back. Only a few of them are blooming, that too halfheartedly. These were the same pavements that overwhelmed our senses

The news of summer. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi’s brief winter ends in January. February is pleasingly cool in the city. March is always warm. But this year March continued to behave like February. Then one morning the giant semal tree outside the Daryaganj Police Station clothed itself with thick red flowers. That day it became warm in Delhi. A harbinger of summer, this blossoming tree in Daryaganj tried to soften the news of the impending arrival of hot dusty days by gently showering its red pulpy flowers on the ground below. Some of these flowers fell beside a bike. Some fell on the road; a few of them were crushed under the wheels of the passing cars. Two flowers fell

Hot, humid and still cool. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] If it’s August in Delhi, then it has to be insufferably humid and burning. The overcast sky traps the broiling heat and the city becomes a sponge. There’s no breeze in the sticky air, and no reprieve under the trees. For people on the street, it’s like being perpetually in a steam bath. They don’t just bear with the weather, but also have to wear it. Sweat-soaked clothes cling to the skin. Black underarm stains compromise dignity. The absence of an air-conditioner causes utter wretchedness. The body doesn’t cool off even at night. To makes the month gloomier, major fires erupted in the colonial-era Connaught Place and the Mughal-era Chandni

The yellow magic. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] One August evening The Delhi Walla visited Humayun’s Tomb. The setting sun made the Mughal-era stone monument appear deceptively light, and yet this impression was not the day’s principal poetic element. The sightseers were instead distracted by hundreds of yellow flowers that were shooting out of the green grass. It was an unexpectedly amazing sight. Two young women from Bombay were so thrilled that they plucked off the flowers, sticking them behind their ears. Elsewhere, a young man was lying sprawled across a bed of yellow, and 3-4 children were playing their own strange game within the wilderness of these flowers. Nearby, a black dog loitered. By next evening, the gardeners had done

Wet scenes. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] One extremely humid August afternoon The Delhi Walla stepped into Lodhi Garden. Large parts of the park were immersed under water. The sky was overcast with black clouds. It must have rained. Some of the benches on which lovers sit and kiss each other had become islands. The pot-bellied walkers had to take a diversion since pieces of the jogging track too had disappeared under rain water. On one of the dry patches, a young woman in a red sari was holding the hands of a young man in a black shirt. They were looking into each other’s eyes. Behind them stood a centuries-old tomb. Nearby, another young couple was walking under a wet tree, their arms

The cool of the heat. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi’s agonizing summer is made bearable by the blossoming of the amaltas. Although the tree’s yellow flowers herald the season’s brutality, their glittering bloom provides consolation. This year, for some reason, the amaltas-lined Hailey Road near Connaught Place has failed to put up a grand show. Unlike previous years, the yellow is present only in patches. But the dozens of amaltas trees in the little park outside the ticket window at Humayun’s Tomb are shining as brightly as they always do. The branches are sheathed in yellow and the flowers fall all day long, covering the grassy ground with their petals — yet the trees never run short of flowers. The view