Delhiwale: A horror not to be surveyed

In Connaught Place, after sundown, a bald man in a black suit and tie is sitting alone, without even a mobile phone, on a low cement ledge close to Anil Book Corner, shut for the day

In Connaught Place, after sundown, a bald man in a black suit and tie is sitting alone, without even a mobile phone, on a low cement ledge close to Anil Book Corner, shut for the day. He is looking down. A few feet away, Delhi continues. The one-way road behind the solo citizen is crammed with cars and autos. The showrooms on the other side of the road are glowing with light.

In Connaught Place, after sundown, a bald man in a black suit and tie is sitting alone, without even a mobile phone, on a low cement ledge close to Anil Book Corner, shut for the day. He is looking down. (HT Photo)

The sight of someone alone in a crowded space is an ordinary one in a big city. It brings to mind poet Emily Dickinson’s haunting portrayal of loneliness as a “horror not to be surveyed.” Perhaps nowhere in Delhi is the poignant loneliness of the big city more visible than along the main avenue of Chandni Chowk, home and workplace to countless migrant men living far from their villages. That particular kind of loneliness, tied to place and circumstance, was surveyed in this space a few months ago. Here, the concern is with something more ambiguous: solitude, which may or may not be loneliness. What follows is a brief survey of big-city aloneness, an anthology of scenes gathered across Delhi over a number of days.

On Asaf Ali Road, a lone bird is perched on an electric wire, the view framed by a hospital high-rise under construction. Around it, cranes rise, and wires criss-cross the grey monsoon sky. For a moment, the bird is the only still thing in the scene.

In Lodhi Garden after rain, a man is sitting on a green bench beneath a tree. His red bag is beside him. A large pool of rainwater lies in front, reflecting the man.

A crowded train arrives at the underground JLN Stadium metro station. Its doors slide open. People on the platform get in. Nobody gets out. The doors close. When the train leaves, only one man remains on the platform.

The South Extension I scene is the only one here witnessed years ago. In the busy shopping district, construction for a metro station has caused a deep trench in the middle of a sprawling yard. Behind the barricades are signs for various showrooms and pizza joints. A security guard in a blue shirt sits alone on a steel beam above the excavation, surrounded by pipes, rubble and metal.

Inside a restaurant in Khan Market, two people are sitting on the same sofa with a wide space between them. Yellow light falls on the wall behind them. Whether these two are strangers or know each other, the distance between them is unmistakable.

On Sunday evening, at sunset, the grass maidan running along the Kartavya Path is partly crowded with citizens. Street lamps have been turned on to confront the gathering darkness. The round orange sun is sinking next to the majestic Rashtrapati Bhavan. A man is sitting by himself on the lawn, his shoes beside him, his face turned towards the setting sun. See photo.