A Dilli Inter-lewd

Dilli… Saturday, March 15… Evening…

Tis the fourteenth day of the lunar fortnight, waxing moon…. Chaudween ka chaand…

Right above the canopy of King George near India Gate..

Chaudhween ka chand

Chaudhween ka chand

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This is the canopy where stood a marble statue of King George the Fifth, in the 1960s.,.. Later the statue was removed and housed elsewhere.. There were rumors that a Gandhi statue (that of the Mahatma) would be housed in this canopy… But that did not happen… And mercifully the powers have left this arch empty of any other politician…

The canopy is right in line with India Gate, and Rashtrapathi Bhavan… The Rajpath, the way of the King….

Here are some pictures (cell phone taken, please forgive jee) of yesterday evening’s walk around that place… Click, and use arrows to browse, Esc to return….

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So that was yesterday, the Chaudween ka chaand day…

Ravi and I had hired a ‘half-day-taxi’ …40 kms, Rs 600 only plus parking fees… And parking fees in Delhi is a chota-mota scam… In South Delhi its going to cost 100 Rs per hour, it seems… Jai ho! I loot you, you loot someone else, and so up it goes, till someone loots the whole nation, and so it comes right back to me, and I loot someone, and he loots someone else….. The virtuous cycle of nation milking…

As we drove from outside to inside Dilli – from outer of outer ring road, to inside of inner ring road – from the fringes of the circular parallel economy to the heart of the engine, the oxygen was like a gentle high.. Like a journey from the obnoxious to the noxious… Waiting at red lights like dogs on leash, the engines growled… Peering at fellow drivers in vehicles alongside, one could not help wondering who was carrying whom? Was the car carrying the driver or was it the other way… The car folks who were driving looked like they were perfectly capable of getting off, picking up the car over their head, and hurling it above and across the overpass in front, and running and catching it on the other side… There was this surefire macho aggressiveness… The way they held the steering wheel, leaning onto it, ‘putting their weights behind the wheel’… The way they glared as they waited… Or pumped up the volume of clang-clang-dance music from their car stereos..

“Ah dilli… I said” to Ravi…”Killers! Sure, they all look like they could murder… no?” I asked Ravi

“Arrey naheen… They are normal… Not like you Chennai ch***s…. You f(*&%s are timid… We are normal… Normal people, who are ready for a fight, if it comes to it, which it might anytime, anywhere..”

With some more prodding, he elaborated… “I mean, we are not like you southies… Wearing marks of divinity, behind which you hide your haram ki kamaai… I mean we tell you straight “I AM BAD. DON’T MESS WITH ME.”, as we go about our daily business of ‘aaj ka loot’. And if someone were to try to do us in, we are ready for it, and we will stab him first… Rest (baaki) will be seen later (baad mein dekhi jayegi)… *&%^$# #%*!@~ (choice expletives)”…

Ah Soota is home….He now thinks favorably of all…. And that includes the news anchors of national television channels – even the English ones… Everyone is doing dhandhaa after all… Depending on where you are in the ‘virtuous cycle of nation milking’, you extract your share of hafta-moola… And if that means running over someone, so be it… Everyone and everyone’s uncle is krantikari… Bahut krantikari…. 

Six months ago, when he had come before the Dilli state elections, he had seen a surge of broom – the jhaadoo of aap (See this post “Dilli mein parivartan”…).. This time around, with national elections around the corner, the sweep seems  to be somewhat subdued… It looks like the common man has re-realized that it is each man for himself in this canine eat canine race of rodents… And oh what fun it is to run with a one horse open sleigh… Hey, Jhingal bell, Jhingal bell, Jhingal aaaalll the way….

And the way leads to Bengali market for Soota… To the sweet house…. Where the sight of the well endowed सेट , eating his own restaurant food as he completely mans the counter, counting thousand-rupee notes with a professional slickness…The sight is so endearing.. One regains faith in timeless Hindustan… Oh the मिठाई का मेला… Folks of all age – from kids to nonagenarians… All coming in here to give a party to their taste buds… That special masala that goes into giving छोले  that taste which you cannot find elsewhere in Delhi… Like that other shop in Darya Gung where Samosa-s are the world’s best.. These are khaandaani halwaai-s…. This is real India…. Jai Ho!

And now, to this morning… The morning of 16th March…. A walk in the park…

Winter is all but gone…. The last kiss lingers still… Some trees are still bare, and stand aloof like ascetics in meditation…. Spring is announcing its presence… Some flower beds are smiling… Blossoms looking at the Sun…

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As he walks in the public park, Soota breathes the spirit of Dilli… Not too many people around. Maybe because of Holi season (Holi tomorrow)… But there are enough folks.. And almost all of them are wearing track suits ( the pants)… They are dressed for the occasion… An old man walks ahead of Soota, his cap emblazoned with the word “WOLVERINE”…

Bhaunkh! Bhaunkh! Yeh, Dilli hai!

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4 Responses to “A Dilli Inter-lewd”

  1. ramey Says:

    mazaa aa gaya…

  2. sivasivasubramanian Says:

    You scare me about Delhi, especially when I’m planning to live there!

    Thank you and Regards, Siva S

    Pardon my brevity, this mail is being sent from my tablet.

    >

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