I met an Indian girl at a Dussehra Dinner gathering last year in Madrid. She was new to the city and we got talking. When it came to topic of our hometowns in India, and I mentioned Delhi- her reaction blew me away. “Oh, you’re a Delhiite” (Pronounced Delhi-ite). Wow, are we such notorious creatures? I thought.
It’s only been two years and a few months since I ceased to be a resident of Delhi, but this holiday season, I feel more alienated than I’d ever felt before.
The years before I left Delhi weren’t exactly spent in a tizzy of love with the city, yet this time around I can unequivocally attest to the fact that as this city engulfs me in smog, meaningless traditions, blatant disregard for humanity in general and disrespect for women, I can’t wait to run away, again.
The cars are being towed away for being illegally parked on roadsides, but where are the parking lots? Can an action not be justified, if there is no other institutional alternative available? It’s easy to target young couples in parks, since catching actual criminal requires prowess (or intent) that eludes the police force. And what might I ask do I do with men who stare at women unabashedly? Stare back at them for a couple of minutes and they shy away like a little mouse. Such is their machismo. And ah! It’s the woman’s provocativeness that is the reason for such overtures said some lady of political dominance.
What about that fine lady with the high pitched voice, heels and a dark lipstick, who feels its her birthright to cut queues and barge in ahead of me? How many times must I draw out daggers so no one steals my spot in the queue?
And then, yes, the existential crisis of an unmarried girl of my age which is not fathomable to someone who is not an unmarried girl of my age.
I guess, us Delhiites realize these shortcomings, and in order to ameliorate the pain, must buy two cars each. Hello Traffic jams.
Delhi, you’ve failed to impress me. Yet again. Unfortunately, you’re like that family member who I can’t stand, but yet I must come back to. Bi-annually.
I’ll contend with being the occasional visitor. Or not.
