CLOSED LETTER to a troubled woman

At the outset, I haven’t really blogged in some time because I felt that the venom was gone with youth. I equate youth with Poona, my despicable college, my utterly mad band of Hatters, Navy Cuts and my bike. Delhi has been home for about eight years now.

This is supposed to be a reply to a somewhat scathing set of remarks on Delhi (severely lining up all the testosterone {a bit of progesterone too, if I might add} in North India and basically nuking the living bejesus out of it, Punjab for some troubling reason being the epicenter of the mitotic mushrooming cloud). Let’s begin, shall we?

First of all, I agree that 95% of the junta here is scum. No, wait. Maybe more. Delhi doesn’t have a population of its own. Most are migrants from all over. This is a congregation of sorts. There is a massive flaw in the programming somewhere that remands some (most) to become lewd, lascivious insects sporting pointed shoes, ridiculously expensive and utterly worthless denims from diesel, shining (as in turn the flash off if you want a snap that isn’t pristine white) suits from Tom Ford, sunglasses which scream for applause not because they’re good but because a normal person just wouldn’t be brave enough to go out wearing something as brazen as them. But that is the character Delhi has. You love it or leave it. For me, it’s the lifeblood for a lifetime of humour. Not to draw disparaging regional equals, but a day in Bombay with every nukkad having a bloated stud on a bike with a horn that he received in dowry with golden sunglasses, golden bracelets, golden chains, does much the same for me. It makes me laugh when I go off to sleep every night. Lets not get started with Chennai and the local studs there, shall we?

But that was just the outward first shock. There is more to it. Delhi boy. The term has a really bad ricochet to it. Much like the collecting bile when you’re about to hurl after ten pitchers of beer (again very Delhi). Subjecting yourself to public opinion on this term, then comes with its own bias. You get the image of an insecure boyfriend, a lecherous biker, a drunk driver whose line of vision ends at cleavage. I wouldn’t speak for myself, but I do know a certain contingent of Delhi born breds who do not subscribe to such a mindset, and in alarming numbers. You’d be surprised. You may just stop to consider that you may have been hanging out in the wrong clubs with the wrong people at the wrong time. Its not an allegation, it’s a thought. There are three pubs that I frequent which are most often full to the hilt, with men and women where you can visibly see a confluence of happy, frustrated, letting off steam, discussing problems, getting punch drunk bunch of merry Indians. Not dilliwalas, not biharis, not panjabis, not mals, not tams. Indians. Not to put some flag toting patriotism to the fore, I’m not a patriot. Far from it. This is to address the point of collectives, in Delhi.

Now, where were we? Ah, education and classical music, eh? Upbringing, you say. I would agree that most in Delhi haven’t been brought up but dragged up. Much the same in any other teeming metropolis. Not much of a difference here too. I’m not one for the debating circuit, but as far as propagating a multicultural society is concerned, Delhi would be scarily ahead of the game. If you’re in Delhi, do try central and not south Delhi next time. I can send you a brochure of plays, debates on issues which may be political, environmental, literary, cinematic or pure off the cuff extempore. As kids, we had access to libraries, some of us still do. Most of the people I know here were reading The Bourne Identity or Silas Marner when they were in the fifth grade. Some earlier. People pride themselves on their new SUVs or their brain jarringly loud bikes as well as their bookshelves. I know. I’m one of them. There are a thick bunch of people on the other side as well who’d prefer slurring obscenities at cops at the gurgaon border, when they’re shutting down beer shops with half open shutters in the wee hours of the morning. I know. I’m one of them too.

And as far as collectively dissing mothers who don’t have a say in most matters, I’d say it’s a most unfortunate observation, because it demands a more stringent and subjective approach. There are families where they have a say, no say or THE say. Seen enough to comment, or I would have refrained. Moreover, rather than M.S. Subbalakshmi, I believe an NCERT history book would have been more rewarding in understanding the divide between North and South India. It could, and one hopes it still can, broaden the boundaries a bit on the social spectrum. North India has specifically been a patriarchal society and its always leaned on the matriarchal side in the South. Check out Romila Thapar’s treatises on ancient India. Might help. Again, I’m not a supporter of either. There are places in India (again, as a collective whole) where it is being looked into and corrected. Other pockets, not so much. And yes, ‘my mom-dad’ ( who, before you ask, are not conjoined at the hip, its just our way of referring to things. In a formal interview, we do remember to refer to them as parents) have had a pretty equal share in the decisions and bread winners segment, and I know multitudes in Delhi, which are on the same lines. The definitive differences lie in the difference in exposure and education. In India. The whole of it.

Moreover, I happen to know a few Sikhs. Some of them were displaced from Pakistan. It’s a traumatic experience, being displaced. Not to be made fun of. Period. We’ve had our Bhindranwalas, our Prabhakarans, and our mujahideen. Lets not make a wondrous mess of things, shall we?

Moreover, do realize, that delhi is not everyone’s cup of tea. Not everybody survives here and likes it. Its hot, flooded, death cold at times and traffucked most times. We’re a collective that does not get dissed that easily. Most of us are outsiders, trying to make a living, not pick a vein. It’s the country’s own capital playground. Everybody gets a ticket. There are elements of disgust and pride. Even the good ones that are tethered in their opinions are not tame.