Sarako

Starting from Maharani Bagh at the juicestall near the red light, you enter through narrow pathways, Kilokri – a locality marked by its density and chaotic stacking of houses in South-East Delhi. Unpaved roads decorated by fruit and nut carts, lead to spaces in which you wonder whether you are in- or outside. Touching with your left hand and right hand different wall textures, the space in front of you becomes more narrow while the only light comes from above – two facing roof tops left a space 20 cm to mark the separation of the two houses.



These exterior interior spaces lead eventually to more spacious rooms where kids are playing next to activities of washing, praying, cooking and sleeping. And working ofcourse, however a lot of labour activities are not visible on the streets. If you look carefully and listen to sounds, you might discover much more activity than you inititially think of. The chance that a ventilator in a basement is the sign of a workshop, is pretty big. Knocking on a door of a house which seems to be abandoned, opens a complete hidden world. Surrounded by fluorescent lights, three men are needling little mirrors and other decorative elements on deep pink cloths.



They told me that wintertime makes people very slow and sleepy, often illustrated by drivers sleeping in cars, on bicycles and rickshaws parked on the side of the road. On the contrary, in summertime, most people are much more active – something which logically I cannot understand, knowing that my mode of activity would be pretty slow during 40 degrees celsius. But, than again, forget about logic in India.



Crossing Maharani Bagh, takes you through MiraBai Polytechnic, Immur Nagar and the rich neighbourhood of New Friends Colony. The density of Kilokri transforms into spacious lanes with guarded mansions, orderly fenced off and protected from unlicensed vegetable salesmen and other mobile shops. Opposite the gated communities – which means a distance of five meters – the ‘unallowed’ people live – making a living with polishing shoes, chopping meat, selling tea or washing cloths. After the gates, a new densed area arises. Surrounded by goats and butcher shops, we take a left and end up in brick-building-land. Everywhere I look are red bricks and the further I go, the more chaotic the stacking becomes. Looking right from me, I see a cow in an open space filled with trash while on my left hand an illegal dye and wash-company appears.



I continue my way and have to start looking where I put my feet, without ending up in a puddle pool of water. The bricks turn into various materials, from plastic to grass, chickpeas, rubber bands and wood. However the shape of the houses transforms, the tv antenna – a steady element – proudly marks the domestic space. When the dirtroad stops, the water begins. I realize that most of the neighbourhood of Joga Bai is built on the river bedding of the Yamuna and I can only imagine what happens during monsoon season.