‘Sahab, Dilli mein jo cheez meethi honi chahiye, wo bhi meethi nahi hoti. FDA kehta hai malai kofta white gravy mein banni chahiye, lekin kaun sunta hai.’ Saying this, the waiter wiped his face with the towel hanging down his shoulders; the heat from the Tandoor could be felt even on the first floor. Swami could still be heard humming in the background in his much loved south Indian accent ‘e delhi ai mere yaar’. A song that could have had no better situation to sing than the one we were in. One thing is clear about Delhi that it is a haven for gourmands and epicureans; however the malai kofta was a nightmare. While eating it i recalled the waiter’s words and wondered if the first sentence had a hidden pun. Saproo was busy eating his shahi paneer and occasionally checking his mobile for texts and service messages. We had been in delhi for the last 12 hours and were falling in love with it, especially the food, the one that quenches the bile and not the one for eyes.
Earlier that day, as our train was nearing to delhi, we were silently looking outside the window and were fidgeting since we were totally new to the event we came to delhi for. Swami broke the silence and asked ‘bai yaha chakke nai aate?’ I couldn’t get him so I asked him again. He was asking about eunuchs. Jadhav replied that it was because Bhopal express has very less stoppages so they don’t show up.
Saproo lifted his gaze from mobile and added, ‘Most of them are fakes, I saw it in a documentary’.
‘So did you sleep tight?’ I interrupted to change the topic since fellow passengers were suddenly straining their ears and finding discussion on eunuchs as intriguing.
As far as the sleeping was concerned, I had very little of it. I am not much used to sleeping in a rocking cradle, so i find it hard in train journeys.
The train reached Nizamuddin station on time and we quickly made our way through the crowd and walked out as if the train would leave any time. Seeing us hurrying like this, the fellow passengers also did the same; although nizamuddin is the last stop. Haste is contagious after all. In India people are always looking forward to get ahead of you. Be it the theatre, train, buffet lunch... people act as if this is their last chance. That’s why stampedes are quite common in India. We quickly brushed past the crowd and perched Bus number 181 and headed for PahadGanj, the place where you find cheap hotels, cheap food, and cheap ... forget it. As the bus rolled, I recalled a line from William dalrymple’s book, The city of Djinns- a year in Delhi: “... dust was everywhere and the city’s trees and flowers all looked as if they had been sprinkled with talcum powder.” Indeed the city air was stuffed with talcum powder and I was finding it hard to breath. But being a capitalist somewhere deep inside my heart, I admired the rapid growth the city undergoes every single day and forgot the filth. One more thing we noticed from the bus that common wealth games, this year, is sure to become a humongous slap on Indian sports committees, and the Govt for that matter. The city looked hardly prepared and i doubt if it will be before 3rd of Oct.
“Pahadganj aa gaya” Vaibhav said. Swami and I were so busy Cracking jokes on politicians and commonwealth that we didn’t realise how the time crept and we arrived at pahadganj the very next moment.
We descended and checked in a pretty economical hotel. The hotel guy asked for our I-cards and kept calling on hotel phone again and again to confirm identity, finally apologising for the inconvenience explaining that it was for safety purposes. They doubted us to be terrorists. No wonder since Saproo does look like one.
I remember, as a kid, once I read in a popular comic book that Pahadganj was quite famous for getting pockets picked. We didn't have to wait long enough to catch a glimpse of it when Saproo’s pocket got picked in the afternoon as we were returning to Hotel after having lunch. Swami, Jadhav and I had crossed the road while Saproo and Tyagi trailed behind on the divider, still trying to cross the road. They employed a pretty clever trap using a kid and an accomplice. They were on the divider so the pickpocket couldn’t get far and was nabbed.Thanks to the Delhi traffic, you cannot cross a road so easily. The guy who accompanied the pickpocket immediately created a scene to save the latter. He yelled," Kucch lia to nahi.. sab theek to hai na bhai saab.. ye saale ma*****... bhag yaha se.."(Did he steal anything? Is everything ok? These mot****.. Get Lost!) Finally we realised that there are fair chances of us being outnumbered if we hit him as we were planning to, so we took a wise decision and went on our way.
Speaking of Delhi traffic, it works on one single rule, “Drive to kill; kill to drive”
“well we shouldn’t move and not run when we are caught in traffic” One of us said.
“ In that case you will be ran over. Delhi roads show no mercy. Traffic won’t allow them to go right or left or to stop. They have only one way, and you are standing on it. So they ‘hit and run’ away...” I argued.
The next day we checked out of the Hotel and headed for the India Habitat centre on Lodhi road. We were delighted meeting some of the greatest automobile experts and participating in BAJA SAE, a dream of every mechanical engineer. Everything went quite smooth, but nothing can be said before the results are out. After this we decided to go to CP but with our luggage it was impossible for us to wander anymore. One of my friends had to answer a ‘call’, a pretty important, vital and indispensible call that you answer every morning. So we waited outside the palika bazaar till he came back.
Delhi is a blend of thousands of religions, sects and nations. All live under the same sky, taking the pills of both harmony and agony in equal dozes. But one specific section of the society has to face hideously unruly behaviour of Delhites. The people from north east and Tibet, stereotyped and abused as ‘Chinkies’. I recalled reading an article some 6-7 years back on the condition of these people in Northern India. The article read, ‘They are harassed, abused and ridiculed . The number of crimes against girls from north east is on a rise. Some of them even underwent surgery to look like North Indians and avoid being noticed.”
I mentioned this to my friends as soon as I spotted a trio of north-eastern girls.
“So you want to say that we should not discriminate and never prejudice against any section of society while teasing a girl” Swami said in amusement.
“Yes I certainly mean Secular Eve teasing” I summarised his words.
Meanwhile the friend, who had been away answering the 'call', returned and we headed to nizamuddin station. Vaibhav left for meerut and Saproo for Noida. The remaining three of us sat in the waiting room, staring at our ticket with 317,318 and 319 waiting list. The journey to Bhopal was sure to be a torture and so was it. But at the end of the story we reached Bhopal safely in one piece.
