On a balmy Friday afternoon, searching for a distraction more than a reprieve while grappling with a deluge of admitted starred Parliament questions, I decided to slip out of office during the golden luncheon hour.
Making my way through the serpentine corridors of Shastri Bhawan, I was greeted by hordes of monkeys, cheerfully sliding up and down the staircases. Stepping out, I craned my neck towards the azure sky and found a flight of pigeons cruising above the majestic Raisina Road. I walked past a pack of well-fed dogs, lounging in the well-manicured lawns of a parliamentarian. Negotiating heavy traffic, I sauntered about the Jantar Mantar Road only to find my meditative state of tranquillity to be shattered by noises of feisty protesters. Long live our democratic ethos, I mumbled to myself.
I found a pair of parakeets romancing high up on a branch of an aged neem tree and decided to halt and plant myself on a bench beneath the tree. Lost in my thoughts, I was disturbed by a chatty policeman chomping on tempting bhel puri, who impromptu decided to deconstruct the finer nuances of the Union budget with me. Feigning ignorance on the subject, I excused myself from any discussion. His parting shot, “Sardar sahib, life is as sure as death and taxes”, channelled the inner philosopher in me.
As I trudged along Tolstoy Marg, I was reminded that I still had to finish War and Peace, a project pending and delayed for years. In fact, a resolution, unfulfilled, year after year. But I thank myself for having indulged in Pradeep Kishen’s meticulous Delhi diary on trees over the years. I identified varieties of trees along the grand boulevards of upscale Lutyens’ Delhi. I must confess I was smitten and mildly tipsy with fragrances that were stubbornly restrained yet exhilarating. Sipping on a French vanilla cold coffee from Depauls’ at Janpath, I spied a senior colleague lost in reverie. Quick as a flash, I decided to perform the vanishing act, not to be seen or spotted. I was disheartened to see an old bookstore on the verge of closure. I vividly recall my maternal grandmother indulging me with colouring books and later, novels and comics from this store. Old must give way to new; I told myself and moved on.
{{/usCountry}}As I trudged along Tolstoy Marg, I was reminded that I still had to finish War and Peace, a project pending and delayed for years. In fact, a resolution, unfulfilled, year after year. But I thank myself for having indulged in Pradeep Kishen’s meticulous Delhi diary on trees over the years. I identified varieties of trees along the grand boulevards of upscale Lutyens’ Delhi. I must confess I was smitten and mildly tipsy with fragrances that were stubbornly restrained yet exhilarating. Sipping on a French vanilla cold coffee from Depauls’ at Janpath, I spied a senior colleague lost in reverie. Quick as a flash, I decided to perform the vanishing act, not to be seen or spotted. I was disheartened to see an old bookstore on the verge of closure. I vividly recall my maternal grandmother indulging me with colouring books and later, novels and comics from this store. Old must give way to new; I told myself and moved on.
{{/usCountry}}Hungry and still having time at hand, I made a quick dash to Wenger’s at Rajiv Chowk and grabbed my favourite shami kebab, chicken patty, a lemon and a chocolate tart for the go. I’m greeted by a friend, a cobbler who polishes shoes for a living. Due to paucity of time, I’ve never been able to avail his services but we have always exchanged pleasantries and engaging conversations. He is taking his lunch break, too, “Free mutton biryani!” he announces with glee pasted across his face.
Today, he indulges me in a conversation that traverses climate change and the economics of development. Playing the devil’s advocate, I provoke him about the ambitious developmental agendas. Sustainability, he cogently argues, is the key to human survival. He is a knowledgeable man, I conclude. I share my lemon tart with him, which he happily accepts.
My phone buzzes, “Minister briefing at 3pm” and I chug along. We part ways.
The writer is a Delhi-based Indian Economic Service officer and can be reached at filmbuff100@gmail.com