Delhi- I

I am at crossroads, and there is nothing new about it. Being Unsuccessful is not easy, it is to be - consistently at crossroads, choosing the right path and then falter. Anyhow, I have no qualms about it. “I am too involved in negative that I have not arrived at the positive yet.”.

Delhi and I share a unique relationship. I am one of her zillion inhabitants and I think I am in love with her. I know this relationship is short-lived. It’s a matter of few weeks after which, we will be apart. I am determined to make this sojourn, a memorable one. I don’t know, what I love about her the most, perhaps her aloofness. Was she always like this, or is it a special treatment melted out to me? I don’t know and I don’t care. Delhi bewitches me. She makes me think. She comes near, just to retrace. She is always there and she is nowhere. She makes me feel special and than she makes it clear, I am just one of those zillions. But we share one thing; her history and my present speaks for it. We both are unsuccessful. I guess that’s why I love Delhi.

Today Z came. Like always our conversation travelled around the world. Z is always a big support and over alcohol he becomes a necessity. I always wonder what binds me to him, he says it’s Trust. He tells – The first thing that makes two people click is physique, the second is money but what makes them stick together is Trust. Talking about trust over whisky is funny. He lighted a cigarette for me, while I was gazing the navel of a chubby female, he said, as if mediating – You can’t buy trust. I don’t know. It seems too complicated, just like figuring the navel of that female. Trust, can I order some of it, or perhaps they give it free – one plus one, like all other drinks. Happy hours, last order till 8 P.M. I settle for gin and Z for his whisky. Delhi is still around, in that gin as well, smiling at me. I gulp it quick.

Yesterday, I visited Safdurjung Tomb and a Christian Cemetery at PrithviRaj Road. One stands for history, another for present. Safdurjung got acres to get buried and back there in cemetery, they charge a ransom for your grave. On top of that people have started burying, their dear ones over their near ones. Reason shortage of space. So Martha has Samuel on her top and James have Syria. So now it reads, For James and Syria, one departed in 1989 and another got late by 6 years. It’s is being unfair but I don’t expect anything else from Delhi. She gives everything to some and nothing to others. For me, like always she disappoints me.

Safdurjung Tomb is as big as the heart of my friend who went along with me. Both have hidden secrets. I tried to find none, only enjoyed the vastness. There were beehives hanging from the tomb and there was honey in her voice. We sat at the stairs, gazing the gardens, talking about history, present and future. The peacocks announced our arrival and the squirrels danced. I relished it. On our way out, when my friend was talking to someone on her phone, I turned back. Delhi was there, at the steps, where I sat a few moments ago, she was smiling, waving me goodbye. I hastened my steps.

Delhi Haat was the next stop. Stalls of all states. What they represent, Indianness? Whatever, cold coffee and fruit beer was enough to beat the heat. The moment we finished, what we ordered, they shut down the fan!! We talked like kids. Innocence comes at price, we both knew and are fierce enough to protect that. As we were leaving, Delhi, brushed past me. I was startled. She turned back and winked. I closed my eyes.


As I am concluding this piece, sitting in front of a computer, in a basement. I know Delhi is still around. She is cruel. She is a bad correspondent. I know, I can’t escape. But as I said, I am at crossroads and I am unsuccessful’.