FINDING A SIGN OF DIVINITY
No matter which city you live in, you can always find an opportunity to get away from it all without actually leaving the city. Case in point in our own Delhi: You’ll feel as though you escaped into outer space when comfortably on the roof of Ajay Guest House in Paharganj’s Main Bazaar.
This evening the sky feels too close, atop this four-storey hotel, while the setting sun looks like a lamp you could lightly hold in your hands.
The Paharganj district itself has long been a favourite for backpackers; and some hostelries have cafes on their rooftops to serve these hungry travellers.
Ajay doesn’t have one, and that’s a good thing, since here you’re now far from the madding crowd. Nevertheless the roof is decked with flowerpots and tables and chairs, and offers an interesting view of domestic terraces.
Over there, an elderly woman sits on a chair picking rice. Another rooftop sees a man in baniyan (vest) and shorts doing pushups while listening to Hindi film music. Some distance away a young woman is peering out of window, looking absorbed in thoughts. Behind her soars a roof that is home to a crowded pigeon shed.
This is a Paharganj that you can never experience from the street-level.
Peering straight down, you’ll capture a bird’s eye view of Main Bazaar’s street. It’s
The elderly man suddenly looks up at the sky, joins his palms together, closes his eyes and starts to murmur soundlessly. Moments later he reopens his eyes and reveals, “I was praying... to God.”
But this is platform 3 in Gurugram railway station. No temple to be seen nearby.
The gentleman slowly shakes his head, smiles, and waves his arm, saying, “What’s that? Isn’t that God?”
He is gesturing towards the sun gleaming like a white disc in the blue sky. Satyanarayan Sharma lives nearby. “I have reached an age where I don’t have to do anything.” He is implying that he has long retired from active employment—“i used to do likhapadhi (accounting) kind of work in a shop.” Wearing a white dhoti, Mr Sharma has the sartorial trappings of a temple priest.
“I was crossing the station on my way home when I spotted the sun.”
And he ended up greatly moved by the sight—this being the grist of his long discourse he delivers in a beautifully spoken Hindi. Looking up at the sun, he intones, “What is God but the one who gives us comfort in distress, and shows light and warmth.”
Mr Sharma says he never loses the opportunity to pray whenever he comes across such a comforting presence. It soothes him, he says.
Describing himself as a person who makes it a point not to seek either praise or attention from others, he walks on towards the other end of the platform.
Moving slowly, he stops every now and then to look about himself. As if he were trying to find yet again a sign of the divinity. always maddeningly noisy, but up here, you’ll hardly hear a sound.
And when you’ve had enough of these sights, just curl up on the chair with the book of the day.
And now the sun is fast dipping behind the Paharganj houses.
On climbing down, it is noise and chaos once again, making the rooftop feel infinitely remote.
The hotel has a cafe downstairs but the friendly waiters will let you ascend to the rooftop, even if you’re not ordering anything.