Chalo Dilli

It's the middle of the night. I type this sitting in a hotel room in Bangalore, land of gardens & successful concerts. For the first time in life, I've to decide whether I should live in this wonderful city or not.

It's making my heart ache.

I don't know why. The people here are wonderful. They thank me even after I bargain with them and eat through their profits, unlike in Delhi, where you always have to "chalte bano.". The weather is wonderful, unlike the crazy Delhi extremes, where 5 months equate a temperature fluctuation of 35 degrees. And yes, concerts are arranged here, and they are carried out successfully and people leave happily, unlike in Delhi, where Bryan Adams or Metallica wouldn't bother showing their faces ever again.

Then why Delhi? Why do I want the pollution ridden city with corrupt politicians, paan stained staircases, insane traffic jams, steep standards of living and just a general tamasha of flashiness?

It's home.
Yes, after 17 years of cribbing and complaining and just permanently wondering what it would be like to live in Goa or Pondicherry or Darjeeling, I've realized that I love Delhi. So much, it's crazy. I love how the metro passes by the Qutub Minar even though the men might ogle at you while you're at it. I love haggling with the shopkeepers at Janpath and Sarojini even though they think I'm a foreigner and will always try ripping me off. I love going to eat random food items in Khan Market or Green Park, forget how sanitary it is. I love the British Council library even though I haven't been there in a year. I love CP and Def Col for all the shady ass cheap places they hide in their nooks and crannies. I might not live within Delhi, but I belong there, and I proudly say that it belongs to me.

Even the people like to show off their sex bomb cars on broken roads, they've helped me differentiate the purr of a Jaguar against a Ferrari's just by ear. I love all the chubby aunties in Karol Bagh and the expats in Hauz Khas and the crazy college kids all over the city. I love all the hassled office goers in CP, all the scarily pretty girls in the malls, all the salesmen and women who check me out before showing me products within a price range. I love to hate dilli ki sardi and it's sub zero temperatures, I love to hate dilli ki garmi and it Sahara-like behaviour, but I love it all anyway. I like the people in buses and autos wearing colourful mismatched clothes or the ones in cars wearing fancy shades from Gucci.
(which might be fake :P)

Yes yes. There's always a jam at Dhaula Kuan and you'll either cross a road or die trying. Machaan, Chennai is still the ultimate place, CR Park's pujos will nevermatch up to Kolkata's, Mumbai's Wankhede will udao dhajiyan of Kotla, and bhai Bengaluru ke concerts kahaan, and Delhi ke kahaan.

I don't care.
It's not just home.
It's where I belong. It's my city, and I love it.
For infinity and beyond.
:)