I was driving to my brother’s place in Delhi Cantonment. It was a long drive -about 40 minutes-and part of the road ran by the Yamuna. The sun was low and the buff golden winter sunlight was washing the blooming elephant grass by the riverside. I parked my car to take a better look.

From the corner of my eye I could see a guard standing thirty feet ahead. I reckoned I had about three minutes before he decided to approach the car. Sure enough, he began moving towards me and when he was blocking my view said, “Kya hua sirjee?” In my best Hindi I said that I was taking in nature’s beauty and asked him whether he had any problem with that. Well, he said, he didn’t have a problem but his seniors would, so I’d better move along. Then, being helpful, he suggested I watch the view from the bridge over the river. Here it was just grass, out there it was nicer. Just grass, I admonished him and urged him to take in the beauty of the purple expanse along with me. I told him how 10 years ago, when there was no highway here, this place would attract many birds. I asked him whether he watched birds.

By this time, his buddy who had been watching us — undoubtedly intrigued by our longish conversation — joined us. What’s the problem, he asked. The weather, replied the first guard. It’s nice weather and he wants to look at the scenery. Wants to know if I watch birds, he continued. Birds, said the second guard, peering at me through the window. They are all gone, he said, hoping that would make me go too. Why have they gone, I asked. Because of the pollution, he replied. Who creates the pollution, I persisted. Man, he said. So they have gone because of this road man created, I said.

... contd.