The season, Delhi

Delhi, I know how beautiful you are these days, being the reason for children's outings, kitty parties, love affairs in the open streets, naked and wild, doggus on the morning walk pooping, how do I mention that. Delhi is altogether a different version of its own. AQI scores less, single-layer jackets or either half t-shirts and trousers, there is warmth in this season, new flowers and variety of them on streets, and in beautiful parks. Eight in the morning I am here at Sunder Nursery, running and walks, warm up and exercises, somewhere visitors, photographers, painters, artists, and somewhere we and I. Next to Humayun, in the near space of Hazrat Ali, or the grand Lodhi market and government bungalows. I have been here with people, on the days close to me or just random meetups, we did hang out at the swing, but I suppose that was only meant for kids, my bad I was with always one, the lake where we spent half of the evening is a locked up space now. Mughal pavilion to the fab cafe lane, the lake aside and the whole big tomb. It isn't biting cold or the mind-boggling sunny mornings, it's the time when Delhi is you, Delhi is an early Friday morning auto ride with the sun rays you are eagerly waiting for, we leave. On Mondays the cafe is closed, one in the B block, Nutella brownie with ice cream. We moved through the circle, Connaught Place, February twenty-six twenty twenty-four, Now we leave Delhi as in broken bits, the scattered stories, all the love and warmth once it had, but February feels so, we all leave Delhi, leave it there only