In city’s heart, yet far
A less visited spot in the city
The ground is covered with layers of dry crinkly leaves. The red bricks of the walking track have faded; they too are covered with leaves, and also with the muchsquashed rotting flowers that have fallen from adjacent trees. The grass is weedy, with a pale shade of green, almost yellow. The few benches here and there are marooned amid overgrown grass. Despite the dry heat, a sense of mild dampness lingers, but that might be an illusion triggered by this oasis of shades and semi-shades.
Cocooned in isolation, the park is tucked in the city’s heart. It lies in Sector 31, close to the busy highway to Jaipur. Exuding vibes of wilderness, it has been spared of high-rises, so far.
The air is currently full of bird sounds, and also of car horns—but both birds and cars are invisible. This late morning the birds are crying almost continually, with brief interludes in which they raise their cry to an even more ear-splitting roar. Compared to this cacophonous twittering, the steady roar of the highway traffic appears tamed.
No other human is here, at least at this moment. A few cows are grazing on the dry grass in the distance. Some rats are prancing about the tree trunks, and frequently disappearing into holes dug into the ground. Now, a man in formal pants-shirt appears carrying a bag. He heads straight to a bench. The visitor appears to be a regular, going by the purposeful way he has claimed his seating spot. Responding to a query, he says he is a salesman who wants to change his career. “I come here often… but I don’t know what I like about this place.”
Staying longer in this leaf-strewn woody expanse gets surreal. As if the metropolis has drifted away of its own volition. The only other citizens appear to be these fallen leaves, and these tall trees with their cooling shades. This is a lesser known Gurugram.