There was nothing special about that Sunday, and if I can recall it clearly, nothing special either about the walk through the Sunday Book Bazaar at Daryaganj. A usual lazy Sunday morning, cacophony on crowded streets, the crawling traffic skirting cows and bulls majestically occupying the road and squeezing past the crowd on the narrow footpath. I stopped and checked the new additions with familiar vendors, smiling at strangers, rummaging through stack after stack, putting aside a few titles and then putting them back, bargaining at times and then submitting to the demand, and lastly worrying about the weight I will have to lug to the parking at Delhi Gate. This is one bazaar I am never ready to leave soon despite the tiring walk from the edge of Asaf Ali Road to Jama Masjid and back twice over. Sitting on this pavement I have enjoyed umpteen glasses of extra sweet hot chai served by Rafeeq whose brother Faizan has a motorbike repair shop just short of the bend where Daryaganj foot-over-bridge once used to be.