The fact that I am here writing this piece means that a lot of stuff went right while I was left alone. I drive to work each day, 19 Km one way, and reach my office, which has 7 phones. On an average a phone rings at least 42 times each day. My Math is no good and I know yours sucks too, so let me put it simplistically. It means I don't need to visit the AC gym in my society for I am working on my biceps everyday, during working hours, on government expense. See!!! That’s why they say a government job is the best thing to have. Coming back to my morning drive, I leave home at 8 am and take the Dwarka Expressway to the IGI Airport. At the same time, as if in perfect synchronisation, 10000 (ten thousand, in words also, since some one might try to remove or add a zero) other cars from the neighbourhood leave with their owners. We all love to race each other since that’s the only sport half of this city indulges in. The others, the pedestrians, indulge in hop skip and jump. They like to see which one of them can out do the other by crossing the road, or darting across it, just when your car is in ideal super cruise conditions. They love to sugar your speed. It’s an art that has been handed down from one generation to the other. Every one in the family must know it well enough, before they are allowed to procreate. All this up until the day the family car arrives. Thereafter, the sport changes and one gets to play racing. The progression is a much talked about event in the community, usually sweets are distributed by the car dealer who also clicks a photograph of the new team with their chariot. A small religious ceremony also may mark the event.
Well, I go past IGI on the newly constructed flyovers all the way to Rao Tula Ram Marg. Don’t try and look for the road sign, you may hit some one and then your sport will change to Boxing. On display I can see at least 3-4 accidents each day. An accident scene is typical. Both parties flash their oversized phones and try and reach their distant uncle in Delhi Police (every one here has a relative in the police) who if not suspended or under forced leave or if in a sane state to comprehend the issue, may react in a myriad of ways. Usually, by the time the police arrives, the Dilliwalahs have figured out status, power, money, position, connections, cast creed, etc and the guy with the most ticks to the above criterion gets away and the other guy makes gestures that may not be described here and pledges to take revenge on some other car in days to come. No car and let me repeat, no car in Delhi is not dented. All cars are dented, or have been dented or will get dented today. Period, that’s the Delhi rule. Why do these accidents occur? Simple all because the racing guys and the hop skip guys are all looking at half empty low cost airlines that have aircraft coming in to land at Delhi’s new runway at the same Airport. So here you have people racing, hopping, skipping and jumping across all trying to catch a glimpse of the perfect approach and landing.
The Director Civil Aviation doesn’t need black boxes to investigate a mislanding. All they need to do is give out a five digit number for half of Delhi to sms to. I forgot to mention, that both categories of people, that is the racing ones and the hopping jumping ones are all busy sending text messages while they do their thing. It’s called Multi Tasking. A buzz word we heard when the economy boomed. Now that the economy is bombed, the buzz word is still multitasking. Some things are always here to stay. Just so you know, as if this was not enough, the racing types are also changing channels on the FM radio. After all, no one wants to miss anything on the dozen channels that Delhi has to offer. The RJz are amazing. They make up their own HINGLISH and that’s how the racing types and the hopping jumping types get their lessons in public speaking.
While I make my way through this carnival, I observe the traffic and try to figure out who lives where and is going where. Are there more people in Delhi working in Gurgaon or are there more people in Gurgaon going to Noida. Is the entire country attempting to congregate at some place in the capital? Just then I come to a screeching halt. One of our many politicians is also going to work. This early you may ask. Some one has to open the damn doors of the circular parliament also. So all traffic is stopped, occasionally the pedestrians may be told to turn around and face the other way, if they are too close to the motorcade, which incidentally has graduated from the white ambassador car to silver metallic Safaris. Once the motorcade has crossed to a safe distance that translates to a couple of light years, traffic is allowed to flow once again. During this entire ride, all parties exchange frowns, signs, gestures, and abuses with fellow racing types. Occasionally, one might go astray to the hopping skipping types and share a few words. Some of them will remember sisters while other will remember their mothers. It’s a close knit family you see and this is what has been taught to us by our forefathers. So in a nut shell, this is the excitement I get just going to work. No wonder everyone wants to come to Delhi. Who says Delhi is bad. I love Delhi.
