This Sunday morning, hundreds of small fluffy clouds covered Delhi’s eastern sky. They were bluish-grey underneath, with edges turned gold by the rising sun. Seen from the terrace of a multi-storey residence, a lamppost atop a neighbouring building rose into the view (see right photo).
These observations of Delhi’s sky come from mornings and evenings during the first half of September. The rains are ending, winter is some weeks away, and there is less pollution in the air. The clouds seem more fully themselves, their whites and greys freshly revealed, like the surface of a kitchen utensil just brought back from the kalai wala bhaijaan.
September also happens to bring some of the city’s clearest sunsets. Indeed, to watch clouds and sundowns in Delhi involves finding the sky between rooftops and flyovers, between road signs and office towers. The setting sun may appear above a garbage hill, or behind a Lodhi-era dome. Clouds are seen in fragments between street lamps, or in some shapely form over a temple spire. What we people have built below becomes part of the drama unfolding in the sky.
That same Sunday, the evening was as notable. The sun showed up as a perfectly round disc of glassy red. At a traffic-clogged intersection under the Oberoi Hotel flyover, three signals were glowing red. The sun was redder. A green bus stood below, its commuters seated in a row. The bus windows faced sideways and the roof blocked the sky above. From their seats, the beautiful sunset was out of view.
On another evening, the sky above Ring Road at South Extension turned orange, or perhaps saffron. Whatever, the colour looked unreal, like an Instagram filter taken to an extreme (see left photo). Interestingly, along this stretch, the road follows an east-west line. For a few moments, the sinking sun appeared at its western end, as if the road led towards it. Meanwhile strips of cloud crossed the sky, their edges lit by the sun. Rush-hour traffic filled the road below. Electric lights shone from shops. A plane entered the scene, its soundless grey form slowly-slowly fading into the orange.
At Gurugram’s Sadar Bazar, shoppers, vendors and cycle-rickshaws filled a street. At the far end, white clouds rose along the horizon like a distant snow-covered mountain range overlooking the market. Only on looking intently could one see the clouds drifting, breaking the illusion.
Soon, the last of the rain clouds will leave the city. Winter pollution will return and hide the horizon. But half of September is still left.
