Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Eyeglasses cover a good part of his shirt. He is also holding very many of them in his right hand. Citizen Shaan is a street hawker of eyeglasses. This afternoon, while on the job, he graciously agrees to join our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. What is your present state of mind? I’m thinking about how to leave Delhi for good. Where would you like to live? I’m 48, too old to keep walking the streets all day. I want to return to my village in Saharsa, Bihar. Delhi is no longer a good place to live. Too much noise, pollution,

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Perched atop the second floor of Mohan Singh Place in Central Delhi, the Indian Coffee House is a soft ode to an earlier time. It belongs to an era of affordable snacking out that existed long before the age of take-away sandwiches, self-service counters, and stewards in T-shirts and baseball caps. Prices continue to remain modest here, and the ambience is steeped in a blend of informality and restraint. Head bearer Ranveer Singh Gusain is the coffee house’s senior-most server. This afternoon, he graciously agrees to join our Proust Questionnaire series, where citizens are invited to make “Parisian parlour confessions” and reflect on the experiences that shape them. Faults for which you

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] One of the living landmarks of central Delhi’s Kasturba Gandhi Road is Ramesh Kumar Mohvy. He has been the area’s familiar face for many years. In fact, his shoe-repairing pavement stall is marking its 40th anniversary this year. This afternoon, he graciously 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. He takes only a single break in between to nudge a street dog to a bowl of milk that was placed for the dog in a corner of the pavement. The principal aspect of your personality. My simple way of life. What is your present state

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Among the late-morning commuters at Mandi House Metro Station, on the Blue Line platform, he is the one carrying something most unusual. The man’s super-long shoulder jhola is crammed with dozens of rolled-up items. These turn out to be maps. Despite being in a hurry to reach his destination, map seller Hemraj graciously 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 main fault. I’m in my 50s, and I have been selling world maps and India maps for 40 years. But sometimes, in order to sell them, I try to appeal to a potential

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] She is excited about April 15, and has already, with her gang of friends, got the tickets for Shakira’s Delhi concert. Meantime, this evening in her Ghaziabad study, young entrepreneur Paridhi Narayan Singh, an apparel brand boss, graciously 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. If not yourself, who would you be? Moon. The principal aspect of your personality. I need to constantly experiment. Your favorite occupation. Searching for weirdly creative things on Pinterest, Instagram, and YouTube. Gives me a thrill and helps prime my creative mind. Your idea of misery. Living with the mindset that I am a helpless

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] His name means sun in Hindi. This afternoon, Suraj is walking in a central Delhi site, close to a high-rise-in-progress. A Bachelor of Fine Arts in Sculpture, he graciously 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. What would be your greatest misfortune? If my parents stop trusting me. My father, Om Prakash ji, and my mother, Meena Devi ji, are farmers in our village Usti in Bihar’s Siwan district. They have always trusted my dedication to be an artist, they have a belief in my struggles to become a sculptor and painter. They support

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Picking up a customer in Ghaziabad, cab driver Ajay Kumar introduces himself as someone who spent the past few years driving a city bus. He mostly drove bus route 85, which runs between Anand Vihar and Punjabi Bagh. 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. What is your present state of mind? It is my first day at Uber, and I am carrying my first customer. I feel anxious about using the app on my mobile phone. For the first few rides, I may need help from the customer to chose the right

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Some places in the city evoke the spirit of a much-thumbed book—creased by time, rich in memory. Delhi’s Sunday Book Bazar is one such place. Held every week at the Mahila Haat exhibition ground on Asaf Ali Road, it is perhaps the country’s finest market for used books. Dating back to the 1960s, when it began in Daryaganj, the bazar has changed locations and evolved with the city. A few booksellers from the bazar’s pioneering days are still manning the bazar. The gracious Qamar Syed is one such presence. This year, he completes fifty years in the iconic market. For the past two decades, he has also served in the top-boss

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] She is finally done for the day. Roshan Khatoon, a housekeeper, has just finished her evening work in a central Delhi household, and is getting ready to leave for home. With an umbrella and pithu bag in hand, she patiently 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 hero in real life. My husband. We had a love marriage—I first met Salman on Instagram about three years ago. My first husband was not good to me, but Salman loves my three children and takes care of them as if they were his own. My

Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The lovely lanes lie deserted. The proud dwellers of Delhi’s upscale Hazrat Nizamuddin East don’t loiter much about their neighbourhood’s leafy outdoors. Quite a few residents, however, prefer morning walks in adjacent Humayun’s Tomb and Sunder Nursery garden. That said, some do routinely colonise the colony lanes. Such as poetry scholar Sharif Husain Qasemi, often seen walking to the neighbourhood’s sleepy market to get cigarettes; author Nilanjana Roy, once seen motionlessly gazing up at a tree near gate no. 6, as if waiting for a fruit or flower to fall; actor Nasir Abdullah, usually seen riding his bicycle fitted with a wicker basket on the handle bar; and wellness advisor Emily