message in a bottle (02.2003 - 09.2008)

Monday: Dinner (Continental) at Cafe 24, City Park
Tuesday: Lunch (Italian) at Craze, evening snacks (Italian) at TGIF, and dinner (Chinese) at Bercos
Wednesday: Lunch (Mexican) at Sweet Obsession
Thursday: Lunch (Chinese) from Chinese Kitchen, dinner (Indian) at Punjabi by Nature
Friday: Lunch (Italian) at Pizza Hut, evening snack from Hot Dog

'twas good. Burp.

This trip to Delhi has been very surreal. No friends getting married, no festival to be celebrated - just me back to my old work-home-work routine for a week. It is almost like the three months in-between never happened. Every morning I wake at wee hours of the morning, take a hot bath, and rush to catch the bus to work. Same old faces greet me on the way. I sit at my old workstation, lunch with my old pals, and get stuck in traffic jams on NH 8 just like old days. It is only when I take off my woolens at night and see those innumerable red bangles on my wrists that I remember that things have changed and the person traveling to China is not my boyfriend. He is the husband.

And I met a couple of friends for a drink the other day and reminisced about old days.

( Poor Quality Cellphone Pictures )

The best thing about living away from home is going back home. For the first time in the history of me, I was actually happy to feel the slight nip in the air that indicates arrival of the terrible Delhi winters. You see, this nip is really nice but what it brings with it is to be dreaded. So.

Went home for three days and had a blast. Met up with friends and family and ate a lot of food. Diwali celebrations were just like I used to describe in my class three essay back in school; I wore new clothes, lit diyas, did pooja, ate sweets, greeted the neighbors, and lit pholjadhis. Picture Perfect.

But not everything is perfect in this world; if it were, I would have got to watch the entertainer called Om Shanti Om instead of the bootless Sawariyan! The movie was terribly blue, full of needless songs and needless prostitutes, and utterly futile in every possible sense. The new kids are okay though; both should be able to do well for themselves if they select movies for the material rather than over-hyped directors.

However, I did not let the uselessness of the movie depress me for long and decided to meet up with my newly married friends over a lunch of sizzlers. They told us tales of their adventurous honeymoon and also flaunted their bruises as a proof. The timing of being in Delhi was perfect and allowed me to wish another friend a happy married life. Why is the whole world and their friends getting married this very year, though?! Anyhow, I also got to eat a gala birthday dinner, complete with dilli ki chaat. Yum.

Then, I got my very first birthday present that a friend picked up from Agra. No, it is not a replica of the Taj Mahal. More north Indian food was had and I returned back this morning via a non-delayed flight. Awesome. And a pink train. Awesome-r.

I do not consider myself a Delhi-ite because I was born in this city; I
am a Delhi-ite because I have lived here for the last 18 years. Eighteen
freakin' years!

I do not love Delhi because I am a Delhi-ite; I love Delhi because even
after those 18 years, it still has the ability to surprise me.

I have seen the city grow, move with the times, in front of me. How the
roads made way for the flyovers and then for the metro rail; how the local
markets shifted to allow construction of multiplexes and shopping malls; how the city spread its arms to let the faraway wilderness like, Dwarka and Rohini, creep in and be its part. I was right here while all this happened.

I love the city for its vivaciousness. The bright pinks and gold of
Karol Bagh; the aroma of Chandni Chowk, which (no denying) is mixed with
the odor of sweat; the lazy corridors of Connaught Place; the
never-ending queues outside cinema halls; the tangy flavors of the
roadside stalls; the loud indecipherable calls of the street vendors;
the shirking breaks of the buses combined with the loud beats of Punjabi
pop music from the flashy cars; the sleepy-eyed school kids at six am;
the wannabes in trendy attire in South Delhi; the sheer size of the city
and the distances that one has to cover every day. I love it all.
Really.

Despite the years I have spent here, I discover something new in Delhi
every other week. Be it a heritage cinema hall hidden in the alleys of
the old city or a tranquil little café somewhere between the roads
leading to two five star hotels, there is always something new to
explore. If only one looks.

But I had stopped looking. Just like a long-running relationship that
one starts to take for granted, I have been taking this city for
granted. And just like in a romantic relationship, when I realized that
I may not have the city around me sometime soon, I panicked. I have not
had enough of Delhi, just yet.