Dehlavi

 

  A year ago, when I started with Dehlavi , I realized this would be something challenging. For a moment, I thought: why start something new that might impinge upon my already limited time and efforts? I was also a little scared as to who might even bother to read these blogs. But over and above all of that, there was a sense of fresh excitement. I always wanted to pen down my thoughts on this city that I had occasion to know, albeit for a very short time span of three years. I failed miserably everytime I tried maintaining a journal. I realized writing something regularly was perhaps beyond me. What I could do was maintain a monthly record. What could have been better than a blog of my own to do that! That's how Dehlavi came about. Of course, I must have conceived of it as something quite different from what it is today. While initially I had thought of writing about very many episodes from my days in Delhi, I later realized that the aesthetic filter that exists between my inne...

  They say, Delhi rises from its own ashes, like the legendary Phoenix-- probably a statement with some semblance of historicity. This imagery is often conveniently used to refer to how the city was destroyed and ravaged numerous times in the past, and how it showed immense resilience in rebuilding itself and regaining its lost self. But I ask, what about the people? What about the lives destroyed, shattered and forced to rehabilitate again and again? There is not an iota of doubt that these experiences of the peoples of Delhi have been disruptive and transformative, not to mention, prolonged and painful. The present devastation of Delhi, my beloved city, is unlike its historical precedents. Indeed, the situation seems to have acquired warlike emergency and the piling bodies of dead brings to mind at once the victims of war. All of this makes me believe that probably it's true that we have come to view the limits of the anthropocene. What about those who didn't die? Those who...

 I do not quite remember where and when I first came across this wonderful beverage in Delhi. I think a professor of mine had shared a Whatsapp story, offering a treat with a glassful of Sharbat-i-Mohabbat . But minutes later, she had to delete that story, flooded as she was with hundreds of eager responses. It's actually quite an unresistable thing. And it's very difficult to shie away from not having an extra glass of this heavenly beverage. But back then, I just knew it's name. I hadn't tasted it yet. I had to wait for almost another year. Summer came to Delhi. Not the terribly dry, grizzly heat of May-June, but the more humid summer, interspersed with showers, that comes in August and September. That was a day in August, and I was with my friend in Chandni-Chowk . The last time when I had ventured into Chandni-Chowk , I had almost lost my way in Sadr Bazar . I remember walking through Gubbare-walein gali and almost realizing that this is the end of the world! I a...

  When I open my cupboard, I do see a few books that I didn't return back to my college library (and I certainly don't intend to return them, either) , but there is a lot more there that reminds me of Delhi. In my cupboard. As I dig deeper and deeper, I come across the mundane and the everyday. The little bits and pieces of insignificant things. But mind you, these small artefacts are heavy with the burden of memory. They smell of Delhi, and when I touch them, they take me back to my days in Delhi. In the first place, there are cafe coupons from my college cafe (ofcourse it isn't a canteen!) Anyone who have ever used these would know how invaluable these are. You may not always get a free cafe meal, or even a brownie. A cup of coffee, and some choco sticks with that, too! It will make a perfect evening's meal. Some of these cafe coupons are very old and outdated. I initially found them in my residence room, lying at a corner. I was too elated, but they had already exp...