One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] On 14 February, the venerable Bhaichand Patel did not host his annual Valentine’s Day party. In fact, he hasn’t hosted it for three years in a row. This has been a profound setback for the capital’s fashionable set. After all, for over two decades, Bhaichand’s Valentine’s Day party was a fixture on Delhi’s social calendar. The last one, in 2023, convinced him he would never host it again. This afternoon, seated with a glass of white wine in the back garden of his apartment in central Delhi’s Sujan Singh Park—where the mildly warm March air is alive with the chirping of sparrows—he explains why. Many familiar faces

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The entire wall is covered with a woman’s black-and-white portraits. In each one of them, she is dressed in black, and happens to be a mother in grief. This is Andrea Anastasio’s bedroom. The head of the Italian Cultural Centre, Andrea lives in a central Delhi apartment. Hundreds of books fill the home. Dozens of objects—statuettes, paintings, photographs, artful lamps, some designed by Andrea himself—are arranged with the affection of someone who lives among things not as possessions but as companions. Guests to the apartment tend to wander slowly, pause, gaze, often break into small utterances of “wah wah.” But the bedroom is usually private territory. This

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Over the past few years, Old Delhi’s cramped streets have begun to feel even more congested. Much of this is due to the arrival of the so-called battery rickshaw, which has almost entirely replaced the old-fashioned manually driven rickshaw. Battery rickshaws are broader and take up more space in the already narrow lanes. For the rickshaw man, of course, they have arrived as a life-changing relief. Unlike the traditional rickshaw puller, he does not have to squeeze out the last ounce of energy from his exhausted body to drag passengers through crowded streets—sometimes clambering down to haul the vehicle by hand on steep slopes. A good

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] People from across the world come to see this fourteenth-century reminder of the city’s past. The tomb of Emperor Feroze Shah Tughlaq is among Delhi’s great monuments. For Shourya, the monument has never been a destination. It is in fact as much an article of his daily life as the wallpaper in his drawing room. By an accident of birth, he is among the city’s most fortunate residents. 11 years ago, he was born into a family that has been living for generations in Delhi’s tourist-heavy Hauz Khas Village, in a house that directly overlooks the monument. He shares the home with his grandparents, and “Mamma and

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Despite her advanced years and the physical frailties that come with them, Usha Singh daily ventures to explore the world outside her home. And what if the world she explores exists at the very threshold of her home, and not further? On this cold January evening, the venerable lady is making turns in a tiny cramped corridor right on the landing of her sixth floor flat. In her mid-80s, she walks slowly. At times, she pauses. One arm presses down on her quadripod cane, while the other arm reaches out to the wall for support. She stands motionless in this posture for a few moments, head bending

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] This late night, while driving a customer from one part of Delhi to another, citizen Sunil talks of his journey from being a photographer to an auto rickshaw driver. On his passion for photography “Years ago, when I was a student at Delhi University’s Dyal Singh College, I used to travel a lot. I would go to places like Nainital, Rishikesh and Haridwar, and observe the beauty of the hillsides and rivers. I would want to retain those scenes in some tangible form. So I bought one of those small cameras, which used to be widely available during the time. I started taking photos with that camera. Gradually,

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Many of us must daily consume our drinking water stored in a safe, hygienic and filtered state, reasonably fit for human consumption. Either we might have a water filter installed in our kitchen. Else, we might routinely be receiving home-deliveries of giant mineral water bottles from the local grocer. There are also many fellow citizens who probably cannot afford filtered drinking water. Such as citizen Nirmala. She is a beggar, and throughout the day, she sits on a Central Delhi market pave, seeking alms. During the day, she drinks the tap water sourced from a friendly snack vendor. While there are places in the city equipped with water

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Laila Tyabji, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, unites some of the best blessings of existence. Oh well, how to hide it from you, dear all-knowing reader? The line above has been plagiarised from the famous opening of a famous Jane Austen novel. Except that the heroine’s name has been replaced by the name of Delhi’s no. 1 Jane Austenite. (Otherwise Jane Austen’s description fits our fellow citizen to a tee.) This December marks Jane Austen’s 250th birth anniversary, and craft revivalist Laila Tyabji’s reading life effortlessly connects us to the world of the timeless English writer. Laila has been living with Jane

One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Once there lived a blacksmith. His son was also a blacksmith. His son’s son is not a blacksmith. The young man is a skater. This evening, Adnan is skating along a concrete walking track in Lodhi Garden. He glides past the faraway sunset, past the park people lounging on the rain-wet grass, past the centuries-old Sheesh Gumbad. He respectfully slows down as he overtakes an elderly gent, after which he immediately picks up speed, soon disappearing from sight. On the following evening, over lemon tea tête-à-tête in a Walled City chaikhana, Adnan says he never skates in his Old Delhi neighbourhood. He is speaking slowly, in a low