The Delhi I love, as I once wrote for the British Council’s Keeping in Touch project, is all but consigned to the dustbin of history. But, thank God, there is nostalgia, that wonderful walk down memory lane. It provides that opportunity to even confer some retrospective respectability to an age that must have had its drawbacks too. Only thing is now with the passage of time, all the scars of the past have healed. What remains are a few moments of furtive joy.
The mind goes back to the time of the bhishti, the water carrier who sold water by katoras, shiny aluminium bowls that he jingled to attract attention to his mashq, the leatherskin. It was not the age of mineral water and he was the popular waterman who carried his mashq on his back. He served cool water, the leather-skin helping in keeping it cool in scorching summers. Then came “refrigerated cold water” cart. The bhisti fought on. Then in came Bisleri, Kinley and the rest. Out went the mashq, the bhishti. Today, he makes only a rare appearance at the historic Jama Masjid after Friday prayers.
Gone too are the snake charmers. For years we have had to combat the West’s notion of India being a land of snake charmers. But, honestly, wasn’t there so much fun in the years gone by, so much glee in anticipation of the snake charmer opening his basket and the snake sliding out to his tune? As kids most of us clapped, some got scared though the snake charmer assured us all that the snake won’t bite. Now the hiss, the show all is gone. As is the monkey dance, that weekend morning saga in middle class colonies where the
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Yes, these Capital experiences are all reduced to footnotes in the march of time. But then there is nostalgia!