By all accounts, Delhi is a beautiful place. If you can look past the initial cow dung and garbage every step of the way, you'll find tidbits that will haunt you till eternity and beyond. Whether it's the nostalgic facades of houses tucked away in Chandni Chowk or the supposedly ghost infested, broken down brothel near my college, Dilli pulls you in.
It's those days when it rains, that I fall in love more and more. New York and London might have Rockerfeller Centre and The Big Ben, but we have Connaught Place for all to see. Walking the by lanes of CP in the rain is a pleasure I have known seldom before. The cozy dhaba where we frequent becomes all the more welcoming. The first time I saw proper punk graffiti on a wall became all the more exciting. Best of all, getting my jeans soaked seemed all the more necessary.
It's the little things that capture my love and keep it sewn in a small velvet pouch. One that is tucked away at the very core of my heartstrings and draws at them every now and then. A Gurudwara never was so beautiful, till I see it through the lens of my camera. The clouds were just puffy shapes in the sky till I noticed them moving above my office building. I was just another girl on the streets till I started looking and feeling.
It's Dilli and only Dilli I can thank for that.
It's a rare day that somebody else’s conversation in the metro is interesting enough to break me out my reverie. Eavesdropping isn’t the best pass time in the metro but some stories warrant it. Today was one of those days.
One man, talking to his friend and describing in detail how his fathers ancestral property was going to be torn in three tomorrow. His father had spent some 40 odd years growing the perfect orchards and fields for his grandchildren to come and play in. His dying wish had been to either preserve the orchards or donate them to the village. His sons have done neither. The stipulated break up of the property will divide those beautiful trees and memories between the three brothers and one sister. The man recited this with close to no emotion on his face. His features were remarkably soft and calm for somebody feeling so exasperated with his circumstances.
He sighed once and came out one sentence that described his sadness exquisitely. He said, “Aur kisi ne kuch kaha bhi nahi”. It's sad when children will not even stand against the destruction of their fathers dream. The last thing I heard him say was that he would give up his entire share to be able to look after those orchards.
The sad part was, I couldn’t even tell him to go for it.Signing Out,