Delhiwale: Chasing the monsoon sights

In the day, the sky remains somewhat ordinary, cloaked in boring rain clouds. But as the evening unfolds, the sharp colours of the sunset (the sun being invisible all this while) often manages to break through the clouds, and drenches the air with hues of red, pink, orange and blue, so ethereal that it overwhelms the senses of the lucky few who manage to register this passing beauty.

It comes unexpected. Suddenly the grim, grey sky disappears to be replaced by a haze of deep shades of blue, with hints of pale red or pink.

Delhi sees these kind of skies every year during the monsoon months. (HT Photo)

This is an extraordinary evening sight.

Surprisingly, no masked shopper here on Khan Market’s front lane cares enough to look up at the phenomenon. (Not that there are as many people strutting around as in the BC — before coronavirus — era, but yet.)

A masked parking attendant, sitting idly on a scooter at the market’s entrance, looks up after his attention is directed towards the surreal colours of the sky. He observes them for some time. Then he bows down his head, and murmurs, “Never seen anything like this.”

It might be true for him, but Delhi sees these kind of skies every year during the monsoon months. In the day, the sky remains somewhat ordinary, cloaked in boring rain clouds. But as the evening unfolds, the sharp colours of the sunset (the sun being invisible all this while) often manages to break through the clouds, and drenches the air with hues of red, pink, orange and blue, so ethereal that it overwhelms the senses of the lucky few who manage to register this passing beauty.

Another evening, in an empty ground in Ghaziabad’s Vasundhara neighbourhood, a similar setting — colours and shades so beautiful and fragile that maybe, just by exhaling, you’ll chase them away. It has rained earlier in the afternoon and a large puddle—like a lake on the top of a volcanic mountain—had formed in a still-empty real estate. As the sun starts to go down somewhere in the unseen west, it bleaches a leftover cloud in smoky red. The cloud is reflected onto the monsoon puddle, which looks like a pit of frozen fire. It is a scene particular to the spot and couldn’t be replicated anywhere else. It has more beauty than it probably deserves, because one knows that this place is normally just another piece of dusty Ghaziabad. Soon afterwards, it becomes dark.

In these times of coronavirus pandemic, it is difficult to freely go about town—and just forget about flying to a far away holiday. But looking up at the evening skies might give you a sense of escape—no matter where in Delhi.