Cloud watching, sunset watching. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] This Sunday morning, hundreds of small fluffy clouds covered Delhi’s eastern sky. They were bluish-grey underneath, with edges turned gold by the rising sun. Seen from the terrace of a multi-storey residence, a lamppost atop a neighbouring building rose into the view. These observations of Delhi’s sky come from mornings and evenings during the first half of September. The rains are ending, winter is some weeks away, and there is less pollution in the air. The clouds seem more fully themselves, their whites and greys freshly revealed, like the surface of a kitchen utensil just brought back from the kalai wala bhaijaan. September also happens to bring some of the city’s clearest sunsets.

The Old Delhi encyclopedia. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] At Sunder Nursery in Central Delhi, a woman is walking beneath the flowering frangipani trees. Her braid is threaded with two white frangipani blooms, one above the other (see left photo). This was another season, but the frangipani at Sunder Nursery has the useful habit of blooming throughout the year. On this September afternoon, a second woman here also has a frangipani in her hair, except that hers is a large white clip shaped almost exactly like the flower. Indeed, Delhiwale wearing such a frangipani clip have been sighted across the city. Frangipanis bloom profusely in the rains and are thus impossible to miss across the capital these days. At Sunder

On an aspect of Delhi rains. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] A rain puddle is lying on the stone floor of Fatehpuri Masjid, this evening here in Old Delhi. The rain had stopped some hours ago. In the unmoving water stands one of the mosque’s domes, upside down. The actual tower is somewhere above. Now a bare foot enters the frame from one side. This is the final and an intense spell of the year’s monsoon. There is little point in romanticising Delhi’s rain. It floods roads, stalls traffic, enters homes, sometimes bringing along sewage-contaminated water. Last week, rainwater entered a part of the airport. Yet, the rain also leaves behind puddles, sometimes just a thin film of water on paved

Tree of the poets. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] How to look for kadamb ka ped in this park? The place is so huge, with too many trees. An Instagram post by @delhitrees recently shared photos of kadamb trees in bloom here. The location hint in the caption was poetic, not practical: “Tucked away within the historic expanse of Lodhi Garden lies a quiet grove of more than a dozen mature kadamb trees, many of them in bloom. The delicate, creamy, spherical flowers release a sweet fragrance that lingers in the damp monsoon air…” So the search starts on this muggy monsoon evening. From one corner of the park to another, eyes keep moving upwards, looking for the flowers seen in the

Heatwave's yellow. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Battered by extreme heat, summertime Delhi still manages to look beautiful, thanks to the Amaltas tree, which offers eye-soothing yellow flowers during the city’s scorching season. Some weeks ago, as a curtain-raiser to the Amaltas season, this page recommended the best places in Delhi to see the trees in full bloom. Now, as the city enters peak summer, the flowering appears somewhat less spectacular than in previous years. Amrita Sher-Gil Road, of course, has long been among the city’s finest avenues for viewing Amaltas in flower. This year, the road lacks the dense yellow canopy it wore in previous summers. One Amaltas in particular seems to capture the season’s disappointing showing. The fresh flowers of

Consolation from the heatwave. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The 40 degree celsius afternoon is searing the skin, filling the mind with dread for the extreme heat ahead. At a traffic light in the central parts of the city, cars and autos are jamming up in a tight knot as hawkers and beggars weave between them. A roadside statue of a long-dead leader is covered with birds and bird droppings. Indeed, our smoggy, dusty megapolis seems to have reached its bleakest hour. Suddenly, the tired eyes chance upon a refreshing spectacle. A tiny cluster of flowers is hanging from a tree branch. Five-petalled, bright yellow. It is the Amaltas. It is still early in the season; most Amaltas trees in

So surreal, yet so real. [Text and photos by Mayank Austen Soofi] A large long-armed tree is standing by a park gate in south Delhi’s Hauz Khas Village. A small crowd has gathered beneath it, this sunny evening. A band of boys—one with a guitar—is singing love songs, and mostly young listeners are standing transfixed. Others go past without stopping. No one looks up at the tree. This is not done! The tree’s leafy canopy being so magnificent. It is glowing in a shade that is neither green nor brown, but a sort of rust. The leaves do not hold just a single shade. Some leaves bear a burnt tinge, some are pigmented with a kind of faded rosiness, a few are edged with

Season's contrasting phenomenon. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Across the megapolis, some trees are letting go of their leaves, while others are bursting into colour. In March, Delhi stages a drama of opposites. Consider a peepal in Punjabi Bagh. Every leaf has fallen. Sunlight is passing cleanly through its branches. On the other hand in Malcha Marg, a bougainvillea is ablaze with new pink. During this time of the year, Delhi’s many avenue trees stage an annual retreat, shedding foliage ahead of the long, dry summer. The peepal is among them. By discarding leaves, such trees reduce water loss through transpiration. Bougainvillea, meanwhile, is doing the opposite. It flowers through most of the year, but peaks between March and May, as confirmed by