Some Bomb, the Trust and a Smile.
September 30, 2008 – 8:37 amNow Playing: John Mayer - Continuum - Waiting On The World To Change
A Fortnight of peace and the Saturday comes again. I am the destination of the phrase “Dilli Chalo”. I am a city with Punjabi as my “unofficial” Lingo, I am marked by Blue “Delhi Metro” boards marking my landscape in lengths, I am the city that has been invaded and resurrected 9 times in history. I am the one of the only places that still posses remains of ‘The British Raj’. I am a place which have had no native residents and ironically all that would be, are the Muslims and all from the Old Delhi region. Many of the people the writer personally knows might not be able to digest this, and may start hating this fact, BUT that’s how it is. On an average I accommodate 665 new faces without any security checks, And I am bleeding. … for all what was not mentioned here, I am the National Capital as well… I am Delhi.
[Back to me writing this]
Every of these Saturday afternoons I am either getting bored or planning to move out, I end up getting a cell phone call, and instead of the words “How long would you take?” I hear “Don’t get out of your place, we have had some Bomb blasts”. Alright Sir, someone made our Saturday, and his as well.
The other day when the Mehrauli blast happened, I called up a pal of mine to see if he was willing to go out, and the response was “Let’s Go.. its anyway’s Night…. Bombs only happen during the day”.
Another friend of mine asked; Why the streets aren’t deserted even after the blasts?. Fella’ , grab this… we people can afford to take a break, stay OFF_work by a day or two, but there are people who cannot afford a day off the streets, …Corner cases might exist, but the GK market did afford to shut but Not the street hawkers and the rag pickers. Not a mercy call it should sound, it was just a reality bite.
A few questions raised and a few answers marked, in the middle of which I feel strange to see the efforts being made to disrupt a city. In a manner, they do manage to cause chaos and fear, but an overdo of everything is a kill. Too many such incidents have only caused frustration and desperation to seek a solution to all this. No one ain’t feared anymore. All one is, is furious with a shade red in the eye, and a few muscles toned in the arms, with a clenched fist, seeking a one on one with; who made the plot.
And the very next early morning, me and a couple of pals visit a Gurudwara around Cannaught Place. And so we see the tense Police Men, those patrolling cars, those sleepless eyes … doing rounds as they have been asked to. Despite whatever happened or might be on the way, I still manage to see a smile, each of those times we offer food to a poor kid/man/human/ “INDIAN” on the street, who doesn’t even flash think for a second what i had actually offered him to eat. I still manage to get a smiling Yes, every time i ask some man/human/”INDIAN” to hold my box of eatables outside a Restaurant/Coffee shop, just because the foreign eatables aren’t allowed in, while I might just have to take away a Coffee. I still manage to steal a smile when those guards scan me at the entry of the mall and i say “Dada, Bandook wahan nahin chupaya” [ "Dude! I didn't hide that gun in there"].
‘One weapon per person, One Policeman per citizen’ …. bizarre a nation such would be. I might be sounding a shade optimistic here, maybe i have not yet been affected, maybe i shouldn’t be writing this all, maybe some one who reads this …smiles , calling this too vague., But I am one among those frustrated people with a clinched fist. A blog is too li’l a effort to raise hope, li’l so that hardly 50 people would read this, but ….. an effort ….. if not the start .. if not an end.
