The Walled City encyclopaedia.

[Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

The tip of the tongue taking a trip of two steps up the palate to tap. While the lips stretch out to mimic a smile, and then they contract, as if blowing air to cool the steaming chai.

First, sa-d-ar. Then, su-du-r

The name of this Old Delhi street is playfully musical. Try saying Sadar Sudur. Your tongue and lips will do the same tango.

Gali Sadar Sudur is one of the many tributaries falling into the Bazar Matia Mahal avenue. But Sadar Sudur stays hidden, its mouth camouflaged between the stalls Delhi Zaika Foods and Al-Habib Kebabs.

A distinct universe exists within. At first, Gali Sadar Sudur seems to be all about travellers’ lodges. Pakeeza Guest House’s hosrding gives way to the flashy neon signage of Jannat Guest House, blinking red and green at all times of day and night.

Deeper inside, a basement eatery stands out starkly from its Old Delhi cousins. It does not dabble in the usual kebabs and biryanis. The pictorial menu instead shows dishes like pizza roll, chocolava, and Saudi Albaik Broak. The joint’s timing is downright bizarre: 4pm to 4am! So is its name. Just what does KGF stand for? The woman manning the cash counter shrugs, muttering matter-of-factly: king of good food. This evening, the lone diner is a burqa-clad figure on the corner table, hunched over a burger.

The eatery shares its wall with Habib Charitable Dispensary, currently packed with people bearing solemn, resigned expressions, waiting to be examined by the sympathetic-looking Dr Kauser Javed (that’s the name painted on the wall). The clinic overlooks a workshop for wedding cards—a couple of men are squatting idly on the floor, visible behind the workshop’s dust-covered window. Their faces too bear resigned expressions.

The lane later bifurcates into two sub-lanes, both ending into a series of private doorways. An elderly man emerges from one of these. Dapper in starched white kurta-pajamas, he discourses on the street’s name. The word ‘sadar’ means chief, he says, and the words ‘sadar sudur’ means the chief of chiefs. “Here stood the haveli of a Sadar Sudur.” The era of that grand house is over, he says, squirting out the shrill uproarious laughter of a mocking jester.

Meanwhile in a carpentry shop, a sweating man is diligently hammering thick nails into a wooden “peti.” The rhythm pales against the musical tempo of Sadar Sudur Sadar-Sudur SadarSudur sadarsudursadarsudu….