Khan Market

Much as I hate the city, its people, the hot summer, the traffic, etc, there are certain things I love about Delhi. Like Khan Market. I’m there every week, once, twice, thrice…
It has my second favourite bookshop in the city, simply called The Bookshop (I know that everyone goes gaga over Bahrisons but I can’t ever find anything there!). The first favourite is called Fact & Fiction in Priya Cinema Complex, sadly out of the way now.
Back to Khan Market. When there, never miss a coffee at Café Turtle, the handpainted green and blue café perched above a bookstore called Full Circle. It even has a little terrace, which is a dream sit out on sunny winter afternoons. It’s fast becoming our regular ‘adda’ in the city, though it’s quite an expensive one. You get sinful iced creations for almost 100 bucks and divine camomile tea for Rs 55. Food there is another matter altogether. It’s vegetarian and pricey. But who goes there for food anyway?
Close on the heels of Turtle comes Big Chill, an Italian restaurant whose Hollywood movie posters are as famous as its food. Again expensive, with at least 20 mins waiting time (This ain’t an easy place to live, babe). Is the wait worth it? For the food, not anymore. For the desserts, anyday.
The other ‘when-in-Khan-Market-must-visit’ store is Empire. It’s a chicken, meat products and frozen foods shop. Once you take home stuff from Empire and eat, you are spoilt forever. No other chicken or mutton comes close to the taste.
The king of the backlanes is Khan Chacha, whose kebabs are mouthwatering though you need to be really hungry to stand in the gully, brave the sparks from his seekh and eat your heart out. He opens shop only after four and is there till nine. The kebabs are melt in mouth variety.
They also have hip clothes and shoe stores like Bizarre, Anokhi, Finesse etc, but few of us go to KM for clothes or even shoes. We go there to hang out and people watch. And boy, what people can you watch!
For starters, there are the ladies who lunch (and talk very loudly while they do so) in their solitaires and Chanel shades. Not to mention the Louis Vuitton bags. They step out of their huge cars and strut across the market with a proprietorial air. There’s a bewildered maid trailing behind sometimes, holding on to bags, bottles, half the apartment and what surprise…a sweet little kid!
Then there are the desi memsahabs for whom the sabjiwala keeps Australian apples. God help you (Am calling Shiva!Now!) if you ever come in her purposeful path. You’ll be cast aside like a hot potato as the shop guy hurries to service ‘medam,’ who only has to flick a finger, and her driver/Man Friday magically appears, to carry the load back to the car.
The other species that hangs around with that air of ownership are the stray dogs. You’ll find them curled up in their baskets or sleeping in front of certain shops and in winter you’ll find them cosying up in their bright red coats, bought with contributions from all the shopkeepers.
But the species that has really taken over the place are the firangs. Pardon the expression, not being racist and all that but wherever you turn, there is a white face staring back. Makes you realise that Delhi has an expat population that’s HUGER than you had ever thought. Come summer and they can all be found on the Turtle terrace, sunning themselves fearlessly. Heatstrokes be damned!
You spot the foreign students, the tourist, the professor type and the usual ambassador/highcomissioner’s wife, who doesn’t have to take care of her kitchen but shops for salad ingredients like leeks and apricots. The shopkeeper scurries towards her, even if she isn’t quite the demanding one. She sweetly smiles, ignores the fuss and walks on, dropping a little hello to ex-model and socialite Feroze Gujral, out on an afternoon stroll in Roberto Cavalli pants. Interesting place, haan?