Have you ever felt that the day is not going according to the way you want it to? ‘A lot of times’, I said to myself too. ‘Not a good day’, I texted to a friend. A Dilli day was long overdue. A constant thought revolved in my head on my way to Dilli’s last garden Tomb. I thought the world’s living in a very fast pace, and there’s too less left for a person to live it slowly. What would Dilli look like in a day of our miseries or of the ones being too sad while travelling on their own ways in life.
I was here, standing in front of the gate of Safdarjung Tomb, when I saw a pigeon, sitting under the ornamented Jharoka, still, as if there’s nothing else to do.
I entered looking for an answer to that question. But it was very different inside. Another question popped up. What do people come for at these lavishly green, historically rich monuments? Some are historic buffs, some are photography enthusiasts, and some, some are lovers. An intricate detail, that I found was carved by a white pen on one of the pillars on 09.02.2018, which I am supposing with ‘MF’ written inside a heart. A sign of love on a mark of history. Trust me, Safdarjung is one of the most beautiful tombs inside out. A collective of small details and stories. I was awestruck looking at the ceiling up above. It engaged me for at least half an hour. People passed by and I was still, as if there was nothing else to do.
It was too hot, as summer has finally made its way. The sun was sparkling, my eyes couldn’t come in contact with it. But what I saw, was a person cleaning the dome. A dome that might have sand engraved because of the storms, remnants of the rain of monsoons, and tanning of the sun. What else I saw, was a person sitting and watching the other person clean the dome, still, as if there was nothing else to do. A slow life. An answer to my question. Another thought captivated a smile on my face. The universe conspires our life, a fast paced morning transitioned into a slow paced day. It was time to leave, the pigeon was still sitting under the Jharoka, still, as if there was nothing else to do. A slow life...
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