Then we move towards the Mehrauli, which sometimes I feel resembles what the labyrinth of my intestines would be like. The green DTC Goliath is
an eyesore as well as a traffic sore, running on streets half its
The entry to Mehrauli Depot is a drag, and sometimes with Slipknot banging on the earphones, my frailty wishes to be destructive, to get a
hockey stick and plunder the buses to death (or the drivers, we know
life is hard for the poor, but an excuse for terrible manners and even
more terrible traffic sense? Dunno.)
Anyways, the depot completely ruins the tomb facing it, known as Adam
Khan's tomb (was the son of Akbar's wet nurse) or more popularly as Bhool
Bhullaiya, the story going like a baraat getting lost here
once, which, looking at the structure, is simply not possible (the
surrounding forest might have been the actual arena we surmise).
In the early of the mornings, we see the three major occupants of Delhi monuments- the smackie with his inaugural bidi of the day, the
gay requiting love in the only fresh air they'll get for the day, and
the leper thinking of asking for alms, but deciding against it.
Then there is a goat, squirrels, the shadow bird and the drainage garbage.
Looking down towards the depot, the squirrels lapping up water from the earthen pots dutifully built and maintained (the only sign of
maintenance I saw), animal thirst is linear, humans have n- dimensional