City Walk – Gali Batashan, Old Delhi Walks by The Delhi Walla - May 11, 2026June 5, 20260 The Walled City encyclopaedia. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Batasha is an excessively sugary sweet, often offered in temples. Old Delhi has a street called Gali Batashe Wali, named for the many shops that would sell batashe. The Walled City has another street with a phonetically similar name. Curiously, nobody in Gali Batashan is able to explain what “Batashan” means. Nor is anyone willing to connect the word even remotely to the excessively sweet batasha. Situated in the heart of Chawri Bazar, the street begins as any narrow, Purani Dilli street, but soon reveals itself to be long and twisting, winding through a maze of corners, enclosed spaces, and sudden dead ends. It is full of beautiful gateways; one gateway is
Delhi’s Proust Questionnaire – Lakhi Sahu, Central Delhi Delhi Proustians by The Delhi Walla - May 8, 20260 Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] He keeps his laminated identity always handy, right inside his pants pocket. The Aadhar card informs that Lakhi Sahu, son of Garbhu Sahu, was born on the New Year’s day in 1957. This makes him almost 70. Isn’t he too advanced in age to be a rickshaw puller? Lakhi Sahu shrugs. He has been in this profession in Delhi since 1984. Sitting on his rickshaw’s passenger seat, 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. The principal aspect of your personality. My ancestral land in my village in Darbhanga, Bihar, is no longer with me. My
City Hangout – New Tiles, Khan Market Hangouts by The Delhi Walla - May 7, 20260 Proust flash. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] City of canals and bridges, Venice has no motor wali roads. Venicewale walk on paved streets; their city’s signature sound used to be the clack-clack of their footsteps. Eventually replaced by the boring hum of suitcase wheels dragged by tourists. Surface in a city matters. At the entrance to Khan Market, which turns seventy-five this year, the ground surface has recently been redone. The uneven tarmac is gone. Replaced by grey and red granite tiles, arranged like a chessboard, interrupted only by a manhole cover. The said stretch runs along the market’s front lane, from Fabphoto to Kama Aryuveda. Khan Market of course gathers the VIPs, the famous, the well-heeled. The new flooring has yet to
City Food – Rajesh’s Summer Drinks Cart, Jama Masjid Metro Station, Gate no. 1 Food by The Delhi Walla - May 6, 20260 Double thrill. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Delhi has hundreds of thousands of street carts. Thousands of them sell cooling drinks through the brutal summer months. This cart is different. It offers two kinds of drinks. Nothing unusual in that. One metal container holds lemon sherbet; the other is filled with rose sherbet. Nothing unusual in that either. The containers are unusual. Both bear eye-catching drawings and labels, almost like the work of a trained artist. The style feels familiar, as if seen elsewhere too. Is the cart owner the artist? “No,” says Rajesh, the soft-spoken man manning the stall. “These were painted by some chalta firta painter,” he explains, describing the artist as a sort of street vagabond. The artwork was
City Heritage – Bahadur Shah Zafar’s Throne, Humayun World Heritage Site Museum Hangouts Monuments by The Delhi Walla - May 4, 20260 The ultimate Mughal souvnier. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] Behold this marble throne. Preserved inside a glass case at the Humayun World Heritage Site Museum in Delhi, it was once the stately seat of Bahadur Shah Zafar. As the last Mughal sovereign, the poet-king is likely to have sat on this throne while reflecting on the dissolution of his 300-year-old dynasty. The throne is, in fact, less ostentatious than the throne-like sofas found in the drawing rooms of Delhi’s wealthy today. Yet it is far more elegant. The armrests are supported on latticework, and faint flecks of colour cling to the marble like the last glimmers of extinguished stars. The fragile-seeming relic assumes truly epic proportions as the viewer connects
City Obituary – Naseer Jhinjhanvi, Chitli Qabar Life by The Delhi Walla - May 3, 2026May 3, 20260 His poetic grace. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] His elegant sartorial style and measured manner of speaking made him look like a poet. In truth, this graceful man was a devoted reader of Urdu poetry, with a special attachment to late poet Mushir Jhinjhanvi. Partly perhaps because he was this poet’s son. Naseer Jhinjhanvi, a distinguished resident of the Walled City, died on Thursday after a prolonged illness, aged 63. He was buried in the same grave at the Dilli Gate Qabristan where his poet-father was buried 36 years ago. Two of Naseer’s sons live in Europe, but he spent his life entirely within his labyrinthine residence in Old Delhi’s crowded Chitli Qabar Chowk. The building, once defined by old-fashioned courtyards, terraces,
Delhi’s Proust Questionnaire – Chahat, Central Delhi Delhi Proustians by The Delhi Walla - May 1, 20260 Portrait of a citizen. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The cart is heaped with chikoos. In the gathering darkness, the brown-skinned fruits are resembling potatoes. Yet the cart glows. The pink bougainvillea, placed by fruit seller Chahat, is brightening up the pile. This evening, the young man graciously agrees to join our Proust Questionnaire series, in which citizens are nudged to make “Parisian parlour confessions”, all to explore our distinct experiences. Your favourite flower. No, it is not these pink flowers that I pluck daily from a roadside hedge to decorate my cart. I actually like the rose. What do you appreciate the most in your friends? Dost ban gaye dushman (friends have turned enemies). Paisa hain paas Toh duniya hain paas Paisa na hon paas Toh yeh
City Life – 1982 Directory, Jangpura Extension, Part 2 General by The Delhi Walla - April 30, 20260 Time capsule from a Delhi colony. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] An archive is not always a grand building in the capital’s heart, stocked with musty documents. It can be a photographer’s lifework, an anthropologist’s Instagram handle, or even a neighbourhood directory of peoples and businesses. Take Portrait of a Colony, a booklet pulled from a garbage heap some weeks ago. Intended for residents of a Delhi locality, the 1982 publication is a rare record of a city neighbourhood. One aspect of the booklet was covered here in the story titled “Krishna Chopra, a “housewife”; Moley Fernandes, a “crooner.” This is the concluding part. Labelled the “Directory of Residents of Jangpura Extension, Link Road and Birbal Road,” the booklet presents the
Mission Delhi – Zareef, Central Delhi Mission Delhi by The Delhi Walla - April 29, 2026May 18, 20260 One of the one percent in 13 million. [Text and photo by Mayank Austen Soofi] The afternoon heat is as palpable as a solid surface. It is slamming down from the sky, and roaring up from the tarmac. Per the mobile, the temperature is hovering around 41°C. Fruit seller Zareef has a headache. He gulped water a minute ago; he’s thirsty again. This afternoon, the soft-spoken man is selling muskmelons—kharbooja. Even the fruit is hot to the touch. A biker stops, his face covered with a kerchief. “Very sweet, very sweet… 60 rupees a kilo!” The fruit seller murmurs. Zareef is suffering from the prematurely advanced heat of late April, but he isn’t alone. Millions across Delhi are bracing against the same heat.
City Season – First Sight, Summertime Amaltas Flowers Nature by The Delhi Walla - April 28, 20260 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