Living in Delhi

Being a Delhi-ite I always try to find out what is unique in the city that I am always averse of settling in the city other than Delhi. My irresistible love for my birth place was discovered when I went to live in Mumbai for fifteen days. Initial five days were awesome; I enjoyed the beaches, local trains and the city. But then I started missing Delhi’s street, dudes and divas. Whenever you step out in Mumbai you meet people who speak language that you don’t understand beside, the local language is difficult to catch, too. Some people speak Gujrati, Hindi, English, Hinglish and most of them speak Marathi. Thus, I started missing the common “Abe-Tabe” or “tu-tadak” of Delhi. I missed the ‘apnapan’, you see! Their accent was tough to get hold on. I was dying to share Delhi slang with anyone who could understand it. I missed the uniqueness of our colloquial language we have in Delhi.

                                    After a week, even local trains seemed horrible to me. While being in Mumbai I realized how much I miss and love Delhi’s metro train service. Visiting railway stations daily for local transport was hard to accept for me, perhaps, well furnished and clean metro stations of Delhi, have spoiled me. But, honestly, I even started missing the bus stops of Delhi (which are now bearable due to C.W.G. construction)! I was missing Delhi’s ‘bindass girls’ and ‘awara boys’, too. Mumbai city is really fast, everyone seems in a hurry, I heard it many times but realized only when I went there to live. Indeed, I was the only person on the Mumbai central railway station, who had ample of time to reach the platform. Consequently, I missed the train.

                                    In spite of all this, the city welcomes tourists with open hands. Public of Mumbai have nothing to do with anybody’s personal life. Very unlike in Delhi, where we are always peeping into neighbors house to know what is cooking. We, in Delhi, always want to know who is having an affair with whom in our local area. We shouldn’t forget that crime happens here at a much larger scale than in Mumbai. Girls are less safe here than in Mumbai. ‘Ameer baapon ki bigdi awlaaden’ are comparatively less there in Mumbai. But, I still missed my Delhi so badly that I dropped my idea to spend any more fifteen days in Mumbai and flew back to the city of ‘Dilwalas’, Delhi.         

BLAME IT ON WHOM?

India, I am proud of my country. When I think about our culture, tradition(s), cities, villages (developing now), my chest swells with pried. But when it comes to the protection of the common people, service (so-called) which they provide us and the very System, I feel shame, humiliation, pain as strong as if my swollen chest is tore apart now!

Though security is there, for those who are already secure! Or it is been provided to those helpless people who have married without the knowledge of their parents and they are afraid of their own parents and claim they might get killed for this. They will be provided with high alert security, no matter if the parents are innocent. But the very security would never be there in front of the girl’s school, why it should be for such trivial matter, silly?

            I Do Not Trust the system! For, I don’t have any reason to trust it. I ask a police man to come outside the police station with me and scold that bloody, who is been following me since so many days, and the very police man says “this case doesn’t come under my area.” On whom should I put the blame now? To that bloody common man who followed me or the police man? Or the system due to which he (police man) is like this? Well, in our country it is common, isn’t it? But why it is so?! We our self made it a common place thing. We are so much used to of these things that it seems not a big deal.

In Haryana district bandits kill a man on duty in a petrol pump, they kill and run out, and on the other hand, no one picks up the telephone in the control room. Hence, neither police stop the bandits from running out of the district nor police comes. Now what the use of taking any action, the man is killed, a human life ended in a minor second. It is just news for us but, an accident for the deceased’s family. Next could you, me, and anyone. But not the authority, dude, they are secure plus blind, deaf may be handicapped, too!

            I am not saying that situation can not get better, it can be best. Our System could be the best, indeed! But amendments must be done. Government is not corrupt; it can never be, but the people who work on its behalf. There are several police stations (all are meant for common people’s help) but when a common man calls for an emergency, “Area” makes all the difference. Why does it happen? Why nobody answers the phone call? I am too helpless to suggest a solution.

            I am sorry for the harsh words I used for the System and the way it works, but reality is more harsh and obnoxious. Poor me, I can’t express my rage and frustration through this small article, but trust me there is much rage inside, enough to shake the dignity of our System. I don’t care if some one takes action against my provoking article. At least, I‘ll come to know how active our authority or system is. If it is, indeed!

YEH DILLI HAI MERE YAAR!

What is not possible everywhere is possible in Delhi, indeed! You can get anything to everything at the roadside; sim cards are also available at corner stalls. But the most magnificent thing that one notices is the begging tradition of Delhi. If you are walking by the road and you find a beggar (transgenders are common now a days) coming to your side and you underestimate him/her then you are surely a fool. Because now he will follow you till the time you thrust your hand into your pocket and take out enough money. You in a way pay him/her to let you go.

            Though beggars are everywhere in the world, Delhi-ite beggars are unique they make a difference. Once I was coming along my friend in an auto from north campus, our auto stopped at a red light and one transgender came and asked us to give him or her (‘m a bit confused) money. The auto driver asked her to leave us as we were students but she said “inse toh pure 50 lungi”. She wanted fifty rupees! I asked the driver to drive away from her and for our unpleasant surprise she was no longer outside the auto, she was just “fixed” beside my friend. For a minute or two we were thrilled, and then we begged her to leave and bargained for twenty rupees. Being a kind human being she agreed and boarded off the auto. Since then I always get terrified whenever my auto stops at any red light. One could have more disastrous accidents in Delhi. For such unique things only happen in Delhi! Beware, YEH DILLI HAI MERE YAAR!  

A Big Man’s Wedding

“Marriages are made in heaven, they descend from heaven itself.

Love has been for peace, they peacefully love themselves”

When a Fairy bride with bouquet in hands

Comes off the chariot and smiles so bright

To the public of her left and right.

Some shout king, some shout soldier

Some say “here comes, the knight!”

People in London grow intoxicated and

Mad in their excite

Running, shouting, struggling, crawling

For their Duke’s divine sight

His royal gesture, his decent posture

Everything full of delight

Guests, crowd, fun, joy

All is at its height

Royal feasting, Royal music-

Buckingham is shinning bright

All the citizens, whole of London

Are just standing outside

All are waiting whole heartedly

For the watch to strike fifty-five past five

Then, opened the doors of Royal window

And sparks a divine light

Folded hands, smiling all the while

William kisses the Bride………

What I belong to?

India is a country where religion is over and above everything including God. People merely worship their conservativeness, instead of God or any divine power they pray to the norms and notions which they themselves have invented. It is hard to teach a conservative Hindu, that you can pray to Ram sitting in a mosque. And it is equally difficult to convey a Muslim brother, that Allah can hear your prayer from inside a temple also. Why this world is divided on the name of religion?

Whenever I recall these two terms (Hindu and Muslim), my friend’s story starts buzzing around my mind. She is a Muslim girl and loves a guy who is unfortunately (for her) a Hindu. Fortune seldom happens to a couple of two different religions. When my friend broke up with her boyfriend I, too felt bad, really bad. I coursed

Our custom! I still do! Why these binaries exist when it is a question of humanity?

Some of our friends suggested them to follow their religion secularly; she said he would have to turn into her religion. Boy denied and they broke up. Thus, a beautiful love story had a tragic end. Why does it happen?

For me, religion doesn’t matter. I ‘m not an atheist but for me what matters is ‘faith’. No matter whatsoever the religion I belong, I pray to lord Krishna while sitting in a mosque and to Allah while I visit any temple. Why don’t I feel any difference? Why the hell do I feel same whether I’m sitting in a temple or a mosque or a gurdwara or a church? Is there something wrong with me or with these damned notions? I don’t accuse anyone’s belief but, the mentality!  I often visit to a mosque of ‘Khwaja Banke Billa’ the peace which I experience there is equivalent to the solace I get when I visit ‘Sacred Heart Church’, situated in C.P., and for some people’s surprise I feel exactly same when I pray in ‘Bangala Sahib’. Why do I feel same? Am I an alien? Won’t I belong to this world? If I am like this then what is my religion? Or what could be my religion? Am I a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh or Christian? What I belong to?

 Must I belong to any particular religion? Can’t we just be humans, all equal? Is it that much tough to worship humanity? And if we need to follow the religions then can’t we respect all of them? After all we have created or invented them. Why should our religions be so rigid?

A New Ray

Everyday is new for me, every night so bright!

Everywhere is happiness

So colorful, cheered and bright!

No sort of grief, no sort of stress

No more trouble, no more quests!

Ah! These flowers were never so bright!

Ah! This sun never had so much light!

Beauty is what I see today.

Mercy, peace and love are here so

I feel afresh and gay!

For no reason, for no cause

I laugh gaily!

I swing; I dance on a medley…

Oh! That lovely rainbow

That sheds its colors on me!

I spark, I glow, and I find a new me.

Oh! My Lord your Kingdom is so big and fine,

I’m happy so much as I was never

When I was alive!

I’m so thankful to thee.

For you called me hither.

There is no more pain now,

No burden on my shoulder.

Ah! My Lord I’m so pleased because

This is a world, for which I craved,

I never thought of it even in my grave!

Now listen to my one last cry

Never send me back to the hell

From which you just made me

Separate.

Please let me live my life here

Because I’ve had my Death!

FROM DILLI WITH LOVE

Delhi, this city bears many different things altogether. I’m on my way to explore it. I walked through the lanes of Pahar Ganj, it is among the most crowded areas of Delhi and famous also. If one has no inclination of shopping at all, then too he/she will end up with one or two things shopped for him/her. It is close to New Delhi railway station consequently, tourists and commoners keep on flooding in. It won’t seem new or different then any other bazaar of the city, unless you peep into the life of the people come her.

 I went in a search of a cotton bed sheet (preferably pure cotton), ‘m lucky I got a shop just nearby. Jaipuri, Rajasthani and much other kind of prints were on the sheets hanging on the walls. Good colors, nice prints to attract the purchasers but what attracted me the most were the two handsome foreigners barging for their selected bed sheets. Since they came first, I had to wait for my chance meanwhile I looked at the other piece of art they had in the shop and of course I eavesdropped to the happening conversation between the shopkeeper and those two handsome purchasers. For my surprise the not-so-well educated looking shopkeeper   was speaking affluent English and another surprise came when I heard that he was charging rupees two thousand for a bed sheet each! Nevertheless, I cut him short and asked the cost for my selected sheet, lest of being charged overly. He at once ignored me completely. I asked the helper for the cost and he winked at me (he was giving me a hint to keep my mouth shut). Then after a long friendly chat with the shopkeeper the foreigners left. He then turned to me and asked “han ji behnji boliye, kitne piece? (Yes ma’am how many sheets?)”  “One” I replied. “600” he said. “It is too much” I argued, “Ek daam (fixed prize)” he snapped. I angrily asked not to cheat me like those foreigners, because I am an Indian and he can’t make a fool out of me. He smiled and said “550 apke liye (rupees 550, only for you)”. I asked him to give me in rupees 300 and threatened him that I’ll tell the actual prize to those foreigners. My magic worked, I left with a cotton bed sheet worth rupees thee hundred only. Out side I met those handsome foreigners, showed my bill to them and they hastily went back to the shopkeeper. ‘Atithi devo bhawa!’