Years later, places by the tomb stand unrecognizable, as do the sounds. We make attempts. The place pushes back every explanation. There is much to be said about ways of this city – it used to grow in layers. No longer. It throws back artsy lights on centuries that exist next to it and recasts them into fixtures in this high modern life, which seems to be content with memory shorter than a night’s length. Everyday it begins without a continuity, history agnostic. So much has changed since Khushwant Singh’s how-many-Delhis. Of today, there is only one Delhi. And it is self-indulgent, insular place.