The CR Park state of mind

Strolling in south Delhi’s CR Park’s main avenue instantly transports you to an upscale Kolkata neighbourhood. More intense is the neighbourhood’s gentle rhythm.

The men look carefree, playing cards by the pavement. The vegetable seller is napping by his cart. A balloon hawker is slowly dragging his bicycle and the helium balloons, tied to the handle bar, are bobbing in the air. A woman walks past purposefully, wearing her sari in the Bengali style.

A part of the road is lined with bungalows, each with its distinct individuality, as if harbouring its own Netflix series. (HT Photo)

Strolling in south Delhi’s CR Park’s main avenue instantly transports you to an upscale Kolkata neighbourhood. More intense is the neighbourhood’s gentle rhythm. Everything feels unhurried, like ripples spreading slowly through a pond, whose water surface patiently absorbs all minor disturbances.

A part of the road is lined with bungalows, each with its distinct individuality, as if harbouring its own Netflix series. Some of these houses are dated enough to exhibit an old-fashioned architecture—simple balconies and windows, with a small porch. These were a common sight in many Delhi neighbourhoods, but most such houses have been replaced by swish apartment complexes, or modern bungalows with designs so universal that they belong to every place and to no place in particular. CR Park still has a few of these well-maintained relics.

The road ahead passes by a public park and lunch stalls, with the tables set on the footpath, like in a European city. This afternoon though the biggest crowd is in front of the Kolkata Special Jhalmuri Stall (yummy!).

Across the road, in one of the houses, a woman is standing in her balcony; her hair, white and long, is flowing picturesquely in the breeze.

The walk ends at Kali Mandir. A masked woman is sitting by a banner printed with the temple’s Covid-era instructions of “no prasad, no shanti jal, no vermillion, no bhog, no offering and no meditation.”