The much hyped capital city is one capital destination for youth all over the country and abroad. It's my first time here and I feel obliged to write about it for the way it makes me feel at home.
I feel like I have been put in the middle of a mess that's beautiful and yet so scary; that's abuzz with life and lifeless at the same time.
Buzy bazaars, young people, corporates, metros, rikshaws,roadside stalls, white stone walls, birds and bats have made their way to my dreams and writings already.
I should not even get started on the contrasts between my home and Delhi. My only homely solace are the birds on the terrace who remind me of the dear pegion who comes to sleep on the window by my kitchen back home. It's my way of keeping pets.
There are quite a lot of birds around here. A pair of parrots, pegions, crows and hundreds of bats who fly home with their babies at seven every night. It's a spectacular sight, birds flying in different directions with their families.
The first night when I saw the bat babies above, I started at the sight. A hundred of the little things, flying in zigzags and circles in a radius above me, never going anywhere. Queer things, baby bats are either very naughty or they have poor direction sense, I thought as I started guessing.
All I could manage was a headache as I tried to fix my eyes on one to figure out where it went. Turns out, no-where.
Google had no explaination for it so I settled for the fact that they are bats, they know how to scare ya!
Looks like my mood swings and Delhi are going to cook me some interesting stories. Quirky pieces of lesser known lives are already catching my attention and inspiration. Like the gukta-chewing bookseller I met.
Artless sellers sitting by the roadsides or on sidewalks in markets with heaps of unattractive little things or of books are a common sight in Delhi. So common that they are a society here.
It was quite a collection for a man of his looks. I discovered that these people have their ways of knowing what's selling. Making the mistake of thinking him a man with no wits, I picked two books by the same author and enquired for the prices (if you've ever picked a book on a street you would know to ask despite the MRP)
So he qoutes 100 for one and 150 for the other one which was selling like hot jaleibees and then a classic for 100 rupees.
I tried to reason with him for a bargain," what bhaiya, same writer, alag price?". ( Dumb on purpose, dumb on purpose! )
And he jumped a stair down, coming closer so I could distinctly smell the gutka. I started and looked at him properly for the first time. He was excited about explaining it all to me. Which had me smiling at him despite the little boy continuously pulling my kurta,trying to sell stickers to pyaari didis.
Well, gutka man explains that books that are 50 years or older, are for lower prices because anyone can publish them. "Us time koi royalty nhi hoti thi madam jee, aaj kal toh har cheez patent kra letey hain log",he says. Boy, impressive!
"Itna hi margin hai madam jee", he says leaning back.I laughed at the information and the proud man, not so artless afterall!
So I bought the classic for the sake of old times and walked away with the boy with stickers tailing behind . Aye Delhi!
I feel like I have been put in the middle of a mess that's beautiful and yet so scary; that's abuzz with life and lifeless at the same time.
Buzy bazaars, young people, corporates, metros, rikshaws,roadside stalls, white stone walls, birds and bats have made their way to my dreams and writings already.
I should not even get started on the contrasts between my home and Delhi. My only homely solace are the birds on the terrace who remind me of the dear pegion who comes to sleep on the window by my kitchen back home. It's my way of keeping pets.
There are quite a lot of birds around here. A pair of parrots, pegions, crows and hundreds of bats who fly home with their babies at seven every night. It's a spectacular sight, birds flying in different directions with their families.
The first night when I saw the bat babies above, I started at the sight. A hundred of the little things, flying in zigzags and circles in a radius above me, never going anywhere. Queer things, baby bats are either very naughty or they have poor direction sense, I thought as I started guessing.
All I could manage was a headache as I tried to fix my eyes on one to figure out where it went. Turns out, no-where.
Google had no explaination for it so I settled for the fact that they are bats, they know how to scare ya!
Looks like my mood swings and Delhi are going to cook me some interesting stories. Quirky pieces of lesser known lives are already catching my attention and inspiration. Like the gukta-chewing bookseller I met.
Artless sellers sitting by the roadsides or on sidewalks in markets with heaps of unattractive little things or of books are a common sight in Delhi. So common that they are a society here.
It was quite a collection for a man of his looks. I discovered that these people have their ways of knowing what's selling. Making the mistake of thinking him a man with no wits, I picked two books by the same author and enquired for the prices (if you've ever picked a book on a street you would know to ask despite the MRP)
So he qoutes 100 for one and 150 for the other one which was selling like hot jaleibees and then a classic for 100 rupees.
I tried to reason with him for a bargain," what bhaiya, same writer, alag price?". ( Dumb on purpose, dumb on purpose! )
And he jumped a stair down, coming closer so I could distinctly smell the gutka. I started and looked at him properly for the first time. He was excited about explaining it all to me. Which had me smiling at him despite the little boy continuously pulling my kurta,trying to sell stickers to pyaari didis.
Well, gutka man explains that books that are 50 years or older, are for lower prices because anyone can publish them. "Us time koi royalty nhi hoti thi madam jee, aaj kal toh har cheez patent kra letey hain log",he says. Boy, impressive!
"Itna hi margin hai madam jee", he says leaning back.I laughed at the information and the proud man, not so artless afterall!
So I bought the classic for the sake of old times and walked away with the boy with stickers tailing behind . Aye Delhi!
