in dinoñ garche dakan meñ hai baḌī qadr-e-suḳhan kaun jaa.e 'zauq' par dillī kī galiyāñ chhoḌ kar An anatomy of anachronistic artefacts awaited me as I alighted from the Metro. “Chandni Chowk!” the speakers called out. It was a junction of sorts where the crowd bisected. One part made its way to the Old Delhi Railway Station. The other, of which I was a part, moved headfirst into history. It was a mellow September day. As this was my first solo trip to the alleys of Shahjahanabad, I banked on the modern flaneur’s best friend: Google. It is, however, known for its problematic ways, how it nearly always overlooks the concept of displacement. (Or maybe it’s me.) And so, after running around in circles for fifteen minutes, I was able to re-centre my navigator and my attention on the real purpose of coming here: a century-old record-shop.,. En route, I could see the back of the Jama Masjid. Its archetypal Mughal architecture is ubiquitous here. From handmade drawings on shop hoar...