When do we start thinking of an adopted homeland as
ours, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health? M. Mukundan’s
Delhi: A Soliloquy is an ode to
our Delhi, from the perspective of the protagonist, Sahadevan, and Devi and Shreedharanunni and Lalitha and Kunhikrishnan and all the other wandering Malayali souls who drifted to the capital city over the decades and became a part of it. It soon transforms from a destination for economic success to something that has a hold over your heart; why else would Dasappan, the poor, desperate barber always called in Delhi terms the