Surviving Delhi

Delhi. The City Of Djinns spooks me out completely.
Now that i have shifted base from the north of the Vindhyas to the south, i feel scared and threatened as soon as the screen in the airplane starts blooping and the arrow gets closer to Karnal, (Due to some unknown anomaly Kingfisher airplane monitors display Karnal much larger than Delhi)
For the last three years every visit to Delhi has been steeped in disaster, it is as though the city is angry with me and plans strange little spites whenever she sees me checking in. She almost behaves like a spurned lover!
This time in another misbegotten urge to hawk my IT wares, i landed in Delhi during the Wills Fashion Week. Like Jesus, Mary and Joseph I was spurned from inn to inn, and then the travel desk booked me into what they termed as a 'comfortable business hotel in the City Center.'
The problem is thay failed to specify the nature of business that the hotel was in .
On deplaning and rushing off to the promised paradise inn, i discovered much to my chagrin, that i had been booked into a hotel, which catered to nocturnal love of the most inconvenient nature.
Reeling from the shock , the peeling walls and the suggestive art decor , i called my booking agent and let forth a volley of gasps, squeaks and exclamation marks.
Unperturbed , the agent assured me that he would look into it. While i was making these calls, a consortium of waiters, receptionists and other office staff had formed a sort of circle around me. Then suddenly there emerged from this melee a short , determined looking woman who made an attempt to grab my bags.
I reeled back at this gesture. Without breaking eye contact the formidable lady took measured steps towards me as the crowd started closing in.
'What is wrong with hotel?' She asked me in a menacing tone.
'Well, nothing , really,' I said, shuffling and clutching my possessions closer.'
'I just don't want to stay here, if that is OK with you.' I added , still shuffling.
'And why note?How dare you book and not check in? Give me your credit card now! '
I was scared and the mob looked ugly. A mobile rang and i heard her talking to my travel agent , the gist of the conversation pointed to me, being a complete imbecile.
I heard her shout-
'I don't know what is wrong, I don't know why she doesn't want to stay, I think she wants to go stay with someone for free.' I tried to point out, that since my company was paying, i really didn't have an option.But she would have none of it.
She hung up , screwed her eyes, into little pin balls and yelled.
'Look here , you are not going anywhere, you have been booked here and you will stay here or else, I will call People.' The crowd inched closer. I wanted to burst into tears, but somewhere within me my Bengali roots of 'Run Rabbit Run' flowered,and without exchanging another word , i picked up my two red bags, espied a little gap between a head waiter and cleaning man sprinted and how...
I ran down the lane with this lady hurling abuse, and instructing her staff to hold me back, i ran as fast as all my overweight kgs would allow me , and rushed into the safety of the main road and a waiting cab.
But the day was not over , it was already time to hawk, and en route i begged an old friend for shelter and food. Alive but shaken, i went off to meet a motley crew of customers. In 5 star safety, my confidence and belief in self and city grew back. The hours sped by and soon it was time to return to my chum's home in NCR.
The 10 lane highways of Delhi , are as good or bad as any other capital city in the world but as soon as you inch towards the greater NCR section the roads immediately turn into minefields with rocks strewn on them. One such road is the Gurgaon-Faridabad highway, where i spent most of the night waiting with lorries and locals. 2 trucks had kissed each other and now lay in an emotional embrace while mountains of traffic piled up and waited amidst the debris. The police scurried to and fro, there was a lot of activity but ....not much movement .
We waited from 11.30 at night to 2 am in the morning. RJ's , mosquitoes, passing vendors, a half moon, a lot of dust, some ambling police men , other stranded flotsam and jetsam passed us by ,exchanging pleasantries and the latest status of the clearing operation. People behaved as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be stuck in traffic at 1 am in the night without any hope of delivery. Rampant abuse was hurled against the government, the roadways and intimate details of the governemnt's grandmother's misdeameanours was bandied across from waiting lorry to waiting Merc to By-Standing Police Man.
I would not have been surprised if food stalls had cropped up where we stood, tea and coffee vendors were already doing a brisk business. I cannot describe the sheer joy of the dawn breaking and me catching the plane back to the old home town.
It is no use telling me that Delhi has a persecution complex, that Dilliwallas are an aggressive lot because they have been beaten into becoming mini-mafia by centuries of invasion. I am having none of it. I am going to leave it to someone else to wax eloquent on the charms of Delhi and the Dilliwala. I am going to close my mind to the magical lyricism of Lutyon's courtyards,Mina Bazar, Karim's and Tibentan wooly winters.
I am going to stay goodbye to all that I once held as the Mecca of culture and intellect in India. I spent the three best years of my life within the hallowed walls of the North Campus but the sharp contrasts of Dilli and Delhi cannot be accommodated in my aging years.
As i stepped back onto Bengaluru and into a bright green Meru, i requested the taxi driver for some music.
' No radio Maydum.' he said , shaking his head sadly, as though it was his personal failing. And then voila .....he reached for his pocket, whipped out his mobile and tuned on FM, serenading me for the one and a half hour haul back from our 'built in the wilderness airport' to home.
I understand that such exacting codes of customer satisfaction cannot be delivered in any other city but how wonderful it is to be able to stay in such a polite, mild mannered haven.
If by chance, i had dared to ask for music, in a taxicab without a radio in Delhi(of course no such thing can exist in the loud sound corridors of the capital)they would probably have made me sing at gunpoint .....!
Needless to say, I like my Delhi second hand, like the old books of Darya Gunje ,...I want to experience it through the idiot box, in books and in my 'purani jeans' memory....as removed as possible from the reality that is CWG ki Dilli.