This week, the mercury might rise to 46 degrees Celsius, weather officials say. One wonders how those citizens who sustain the city’s street-food culture are enduring such hostile summertime days unfit for human survival. This afternoon, three cooks—Santosh, Pradeep, Prakash—at a roadside fast-food kiosk in Central Delhi’s Mandi House are resting at different levels within their stall, trying to escape the punishing heat. The kiosk is shut for the day, they say.The bridge is totally deserted, except for vendor Vijay, manning his modest stall of ear pods. (HT Photo)A few steps away stands an amaltas tree in total bloom. The yellow flowers look radiant, shamelessly indifferent to the misery caused by the heat. Nearby, a traffic policeman in white shirt is continuing his duties under the blazing sun, eyes focused at the traffic roundabout.In an underground passage near Ashram, a man is sitting, loose limbed, by a darkened staircase. His shoes and socks lie nearby. An empty plastic bottle stands by his bare feet, cap missing. Above the staircase, white afternoon light lurks.The scene at Old Delhi’s Jama Masjid is surreal. A few people are in the courtyard under the midday sun. From the elevated balcony of a facing hotel, they seem to be playing hopscotch, their feet more in the air than on the courtyard floor. The whole scene looks like a film in slow motion. Actually, the courtyard is paved with red sandstone tiles that are likely to be burning hot, and since footwear is not allowed inside the mosque, visitors are obliged to move carefully, avoiding contact between their bare feet and the heated stone surface as much as possible.The heat is equally intense in the Sunder Nursery gardens. One expects the place to be empty of visitors at this sun-saturated hour, and yet a few secretive lovers are sitting scattered across the grounds, perhaps finding the garden an ideal locale to get away from the prying eyes of the world. At one shaded section, many dozens of crows are clustered together on the ground, boldly motionless even as this reporter nears, perhaps too hesitant to fly away from the shade.Now consider the 2:30pm scene inside a Blue Line Metro coach heading towards Vaishali. Unlike the comparatively deserted roads above ground, the air-conditioned coach is packed with commuters. The density of humanity inside is proof that, despite the oppressive heat, a section of city life continues in full motion. It has just shifted into cooled spaces.Last but not least, the foot overbridge outside Vaishali Metro Station has heated up like an oven. Per the mobile phone, the current temperature is 42 degrees. The bridge is totally deserted, except for vendor Vijay, manning his modest stall of ear pods (see photo). But how can he expose himself to such extreme heat? “I have to earn,” he says.