She wondered what had made her laugh in the picture taken at India Gate, no less than ten years ago. She had visited more recently than that but then, the newest trend which she had failed to catch on to was selfies. He no longer bothered to click pictures of her. He no longer bothered to come along, really.
At a stone’s throw from India Gate was Children’s Park. This was where their son had got his first bruise. He wore a Band-Aid over the wound very proudly for a week, after which she had to cajole him with a chocolate to get rid of it. Like the other happy families, they would snack on sugar candies and sweetcorn on Sunday evenings at the park. Once, when their six-year old had fallen asleep in the car afterward, he held her close and kissed her.
One twilight, they had sat with their faces against the wind, India Gate looming majestically behind them. Couples walked about hand-in-hand, very much in love. He had corrected her, like he often did. Like he told her she was getting fat, or didn’t cook well enough, or should learn to accept his many girlfriends as inevitable aspects of successful living. He had made sure she realized how love was only a dream that breaks when you wake up all groggy-eyed and stupid. Love did happen though, she eventually learnt on her own, when it came to his colleague at work.
Lately, on weekends, she sometimes drove to India Gate and sat in the lawn like before. The wind hadn’t changed over the years and continued to be merry. The kids counted sparrows and wondered whether life would bring them sorrow or joy. In this, she was fortunate. She didn’t have to wonder.
* * *
For all the badmouthing that Delhi receives, there lies herein undying charm. Every Wednesday, find on Saddi Delhi a fresh story from life in the capital. Right from delicious food in Delhi’s alleyways to dreamy winters that paint the skies white.
For a tour through Delhi, from then and now, click here.