Del-Mum

There is no denying that the past few weeks have been as monotonous as the one before them were. Irrespective of the tourney which took me away from Delhi for four-long days, the nights remained as dark and long, like the one in Delhi are. Sometimes, distances fail miserably. Or otherwise, how can you explain that even at a height of 30,000 feet, I was looking from that glass window, trying to ascertain the beauty of Delhi? In my teens, I use to wonder (and please don’t attribute it to the cinematic realism created by James Cameron) that how would it be, having a berth in the unfaithful Titanic.

I guess, a few years ago, I could’ve thought of myself as a passenger in the unsinkable romanticized wreck but my first sea voyage made me aware that I would better like to die on earth than sea. Perhaps, my fear of water, and which I’m sure must have some scientific name and explanation, always gives me an extra reason to dislike any city, which has a water body near it or in it. And so happened with Mumbai, where I missed my flight after four-days of a not-so-well-planned visit.The biggest difference between Delhi and Mumbai, which I’m told is the professionalism of Mumbaikars and the lethargic, red-tapism of Delhiites.

The ‘Kars’ and "Iites" are a breed of their own. But I don’t want to go into the details. Because, it didn’t bother me. What surprised me was, that even after Delhi being the capital during the Raj, it has maintained a Mughal character of its own, while Mumbai looked like a native wife of a Burra Sahib. Not only in its appearance but also in the lifestyle.I’m sure that this observation is not exclusive to me and would have been noticed by many earlier. But certainly, I guess I could feel it better because of my estranged relationship with Delhi.

If I can place Delhi as a nautch girl, with mannerism and charms, Mumbai will be the bar girl, with a cheap scent and up front on what she wants. Delhi may submit herself and con you to believe that she is all yours, Mumbai will give you the pleasure of your life, but without any sense of attachment. Delhi may take a stroll with you talking poetry, Mumbai will prod you to run faster, discussing the work that needs to be done.
Delhi will wake up in the night and then put her head on your arm, Mumbai may not even take a single turn whole night. Delhi may wake much late than you and you may find yourself watching her face and stroking her hair, Mumbai may be all dressed and ready to leave, when you open your eyes.
Delhi may kiss you a little longer when she leaves but Mumbai can’t be expected to give anything more than a peck on your cheeks.

This doesn’t mean you can’t love Mumbai, or she can’t love anyone. But to fall in love with Delhi, you’ve to be unsuccessful, because Delhi may still love an unsuccessful person, Mumbai won’t. And so my journey continues....