Delhiwale: Portrait of a scene

In Delhi, a neem tree shelters Phoolwati Devi, a fruit seller for 40 years, and watch repairer Chand, both enduring the city’s changes.

Consider the scene. This tree in the heart of Delhi stands on the sidewalk of Kasturba Gandhi Marg, towards the turning to Connaught Lane. A woman and a man are sitting under it, as still as statues. Nothing remarkable, one might say. But in a furiously changing city, the extraordinariness of the scene lies in the fact that it has remained unchanged for years.

In a furiously changing city, the extraordinariness of the scene lies in the fact that it has remained unchanged for years. (HT)

The neem tree has, in fact, been here for many decades, according to a few people working in the vicinity. It stands amid a row of peepal trees. (Another majestic neem used to stand across the pave, but fell down some years ago.)

The woman under the tree is fruit seller Phoolwati Devi, the area’s living landmark for more than 40 years. She sits at this spot every day, her baskets filled with seasonal fruit. Serenely quiet, she commutes daily from her home in Khichdipur, renting an auto to transport the merchandise. Her day starts at four in the morning, when she heads to the wholesale Azadpur Subzi Mandi to get fresh fruit. She sets up her stall under the neem by ten, and sits all day long, exposed to the city’s polluted air—in the freezing cold of winter, as well as in the blistering heatwaves of summer.

After 12 hours, she goes home. Her two sons reside in the vicinity with their families. In the morning, she once told this reporter, her chhoti bahu prepares her lunch, and in the evening, her badi bahu prepares her dinner.

Phoolwati’s palms justify her name, tattooed with tiny phool.

The second citizen that the tree shelters is watch repairer Chand. He is as calm and even-tempered as Phoolwati. A native of Nalanda, the tall, lanky man came to Delhi in 1991, and a year later, started his business under the neem. Sometimes, he is seen holding tiny forceps, intently peering into the labyrinthine maze of a wristwatch’s interiors. Until a few years ago, he lived with his wife and children in a slum in Uttam Nagar, but now, they have their own “pucca” house in Badarpur.

As every afternoon, both Phoolowati and Chand are sitting motionless, waiting for customers. But today, a third citizen is crowding the frame. He is plopped down on the ground, seemingly asleep—see photo.