Sometimes a bit sticky but eventually rewarding, I have this habit of entering strange places through less-used accesses. Looking around for one in Nehru Place, away from the hawker-choked pathways, I found a secluded stairway. A dark crumbling stretch led down to the subterranean parking lot while a slightly brighter one went up to a corridor ahead of which I could see a sun-burnt square. In the midst of the square stood a dried up fountain with a cracked basin and snouts – remnants of merciless Delhi summers.  The legendary