Into a newsstand person's soul. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] While his family is known by all as Buttonwale because of a shop specialising in buttons, Amir bhai himself administers the family’s other business, here in Old Delhi’s Pahari Rajaan, just beside Bhai Rajjo’s grocery. An electrician, he mends household appliances. Other than his usual customers crowding the repair shop with faulty toasters and mixies (and even handbags with dysfunctional zips!), the friendly man also draws the neighbourhood’s idle folks itching for timepass gupshup. This humid afternoon, he agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. The natural talent you’d like to be

Into a newsstand person's soul. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] If not busy mending torn clothes, he might be sighted playing ludo with friends (see photo) on his shop counter in Old Delhi’s Bulbuli Khana. A Farash Khana dweller, the venerable Arif Ali is a “rafu master,” that disappearing breed of neighbourhood tailors who specialise in the art of darning. This slow-moving humid afternoon, he agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. Your favorite qualities in a person. Making necessary sacrifices to ensure good education for the children. What do you appreciate the most in your friends? He should agree with whatever I say. Your main

Into a newsstand person's soul. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] He is one of those rare Delhiwale administering a kind of establishment that is fast disappearing from market paves—- a newsstand stocked with the day’s edition of very many newspapers. In his 50s, Zaheeruddin opens his central Delhi stall every morning at 6.30, and closes it at 10.30 in the night. In between, he doesn’t take any break, even in these afternoons of extreme heat. Tonight after winding down his stall, he agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. Your favourite qualities in a person. They should always honour their commitments, including the

Into a bookseller's soul. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi’s backpackers’ district of Paharganj had many bookstores, each crammed with hundreds of used books. Many of those well-thumbed paperbacks would bear origins of exotic lands, often left by international travellers passing through Paharganj on way to Manali, Pushkar or Goa. All the shops are now history except for one. Jacksons Books is the only place in the capital to have a rich selection of books in French, German, Japanese, Hebrew, Italian, Spanish, alongside English and Hindi. Deepak Dialani, who founded the shop in 1996, agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. Your

Fakeer gets frank. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] He doesn’t have a mobile phone, he doesn’t have a bank account, he doesn’t have an ID card, he doesn’t have much cash either, he says. Even so, he is materialistic after his own worldly fashion—his daily wear includes many necklaces, many finger ornaments. The other principal possession is a knotted cloth bundle containing a couple of chaadars and a food bowl. A native of Kumula village in distant Tripura, Masti Anna Zaman calls himself a fakeer. A barefoot ascetic living in Delhi, he says he has no house. He frequently travels to other cities, performing pilgrimages in mandirs and dargahs, he says. In fact, he collected all his ornaments during

Into a citizen’s heart. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] She earns by singing and dancing and offering blessings in household celebrations such as weddings, childbirths and grih-pravesh. This afternoon, combing her long oiled hair in a Walled City barbershop, Reshma, attired in a green salwar suit and an unmatching dupatta, agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. The principal aspect of your personality. I’m patli-dubli (slim-thin). If not yourself, who would you be? I’m a transgender—we call ourselves kinnar. I don’t want to be anybody else. Your favourite qualities in a man. He must earn honestly, he must daily pray to God, he

Into a citizen’s heart. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] He restores torn clothes, for he is a rafoogar—belonging to a diminishing segment of tailors who specialize in the art of darning. A yumna-paar dweller of Khureji, Inam Khan shuttles daily to Old Delhi’s Sir Syed Road, settling outside a dry cleaning establishment, with lazy well-fed street dogs lounging around him. After hushing a barking dog to quiet down, the soft-spoken gent agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. Your favourite qualities in a person. The ability to be happy. What do you appreciate the most in your friends? To attentively listen to

Into a cab man’s heart. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] One of the essentials occupying an esteemed place in his car is the blue statuette of Dr BR Ambedkar holding a copy of the Indian constitution (see photo). Cab driver Rajneesh agrees to become a part of our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. The principal aspect of your personality. I’m a simple person, I have no personality. Your favorite qualities in a person. Insaniyat (humanity). What do you appreciate the most in your friends? He should be a partner of my sukh-dukh, for a true dost can create a greater rishta than what one might have with one’s own brother. Your main fault. I

Waiting for Godot. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The same handsome gaunt face, the same lean figure. The hawk-like eyes glinting in immersive thoughts, the meditative lines on the forehead, and the smart short-cropped grey hair. He is every inch a Samuel Beckett (have you read his Waiting for Godot?!). The only thing missing is the Gucci hobo bag that the great Irish playwright was seen holding in an iconic photograph. Gulam Muhammed Malik is a retired school teacher from Srinagar in Jammu & Kashmir, who spends the winter months at his daughter’s home in less cold Delhi. Here, he often hangs out in a public library, poring upon books and newspapers. That’s exactly what he is doing this afternoon.

The parlour confession. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The hilly Pahari Imli gets its name from a tamarind tree that no longer exists. But Naeem Khan’s tailoring establishment serves as an idyllic substitute for that extinct imli ka ped. It is nestled at a perfect vantage point in the Old Delhi neighbourhood, giving a clear view of who is walking up the hill, who is walking down the hill (see photo: tea man Iqbal walking down the hill). Laughters and shouts from the surrounding windows echo. Passers-by stop to share gossip about the Pahari Imli society, as they might have done under that legendary Imli tree if it were still standing today. Naeem Khan agrees to become a part of