Delhi da Culture

2 weeks back I was heading for Delhi to do an event from Bangalore.

At Bangalore:
I called the city taxi at 6am in the morning. The call was taken in 2 rings. The cab was there at 5.45 am, the driver called me from my flat’s security desk and waited patiently for 20 minutes, wished me when I was there. Through out the 20 mts drive, he was a smiling happy person – who in general makes a passenger or an unknown person comfortable. When we reached the airport he offered to carry my luggage, I refused. He insisted that I take the bill and gave me one. I pleasantly checked in and got cocooned in my music.

In Delhi:
I wanted to reach South Ex by 10 am, so I called the Taxi Stand and you are welcomed by the typical “Kahaan jaana hain….No Good Morning etc, he kept me on hold shouted at 2-3 drivers asking who wants to go. Then he said, the cab will reach. I asked how much – he said 250, I said OK (I had done a background check with my folks on the cost of cab and it was around 250 – 275…so I didn’t bargain otherwise I was all geared up with the information, and ready to argue). When I said give me a bill, I was told “We don’t waste money for small bills, we make bills only for 500/- and above” I decided, no point of arguing and let go.

The cab came half an hr late, once stopped – it didn’t start for 20 minutes, when we reached South Ex, he parked the car in a NO Parking Zone and refused to give 10 bucks change because the Police guy was ready to challan him 600 bucks. His argument was “For your 10 bucks I will loss 600 bucks.”

Same service but 2 experiences, which are poles apart. Questions is

Was I shocked? The answer is straight “No” without blinking. I have stayed in Delhi for 5 years and I know this is the fabric of Delhi. Argue, negotiate, bargain, look smart, party hard. When I step out in the morning I know I am stepping into a war zone.

In all my training sessions in Delhi
– the worse scenarios always came in Delhi. Even if I debug my software for few weeks, I know this is the place I have to watch out there because they will have some via media to achieve their objective. (Jugaad is the word)
– The team in delhi would be always more aggressive, more enthusiastic and which is extremely positive for the program owner because it spreads positive energy around

Although I have stayed in Delhi for 5 years I always hated the place and wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.

But having stepped out – I miss the energy, the aggression, that Punjabi dosti yaari, daaru shaaru wala culture. There was some kind of vitality, everyone was driven by a personal agenda and they showed it upfront giving a damn about anything else.

Although I used to hate the 2 hr drive from Gurgaon to Kalkaji, I will never forget the beer bottle(s) & egg bhuji, which my co-passenger will pick up from the Gurgaon check post.

Is the grass always green on the other side or am I just being nostalgic? Ki farak painda, blog hi to hain?

(Above pic of RDB – probably the best tribute to the delhi culture in recent times)

Gifted and Chowringhee

Few days back I finished 2 beautiful books – Gifted by Nikita Lalwani and Chowringhee by Shankar.

Gifted is a poignant story of a kid who is gifted (in terms of her Mathematical ability) and her relationship with her father who almost pushes / trains her like the Russians used to create Olympic champions….How she rebels, how her teenage insecurities come into being etc etc. The beauty of the book is in it’s poignancy…..

I liked it because I too have a kid who is 8 years and could relate to the rebellious streak portrayed in the book. Many times what seems very superficial to you as a father or mother actually has a very deep rooted belief in the daughter’s mind. When my daughter keeps saying she wants to see TZP day in and day out instead of a Barbie movie …..you can sense there’s something amiss. After a lot of cajoling I realize that TZP is the hot topic of discussion in school and my daughter can’t participate because she has not seen it. In our mind ……it’s just another movie but for her that 10 mnt discussion in canteen / bus is the highlight of the day…..

The beauty of the book is in it’s poignancy…..even if you are not a father or a mother read it and you will relate it to your growing up years…

Chowringhee on the other hand is a beautiful book. The obvious question is scenery / painting / drawing can be beautiful - how can a book be beautiful. I don’t know I felt it that way….being a Bong and reading about Calcutta, the description of the places where I have been (when I was staying in Cal) the Bengali characters, the tumultuous relationships. Its story telling at it’s best. If you are a Bong ….who wants to experience Calcutta….read it.

I loved the book so much that I am hunting for the movie version of the same, starring Uttam Kumar.

Blood in my hand

A month back or so my 4 year old daughter had an accident. By the time I reached the hospital…..I could hardly see her face. There was blood all over her face, hair and dress….I could just see her eyes which shone as soon as she saw me and I could read “Papa is here, it will be fine”.

For me, this was the first time any one of my kids was hit so badly and I almost felt my heart stop….It is difficult to explain. "God! Let her be fine!" That’s the first word which came to my throat.

For next 1 hr I held her tightly as 12 stitches were put in her fore head. I could literally see the needle go inside the skin and blood oozing out of the skin….The only time I remember something like that was in First Blood some 15 years back….

When we reached home, put Joyee on bed and were coming out of our shell shocked state I saw her tugging my shirt. When I bent down she asked “So tomorrow I am not going to school”. ‘Ya’ I said….She continued “Can Di stay back.....”…..I knew what was coming…..With in 15 minutes the whole house was back in the usual state of arguments / fight over some toy….etc etc.

At night, when the family was asleep and I was star gazing from my balcony, two thoughts struck me – One, the resilience of a 5 year old, I was sure by next day morning she will have no clue on what hit her and what happened. Two – the importance of being a Papa……That look on her face when the stitches were being put, I was holding her and she kept screaming Papa, Papa…..I will never forget that till I die. I know 10 – 15 year down the line she will grow up and go…..but whenever I see that mark on her fore head she will again become a 4 yr old in my eyes.

Typically, we (i.e. me and my wife) and kids slip in separate rooms. But that night we all huddled together under the quilt. Smell of dettol & antiseptic still lingering in the room I could feel that warmth called family physically in the air.

I desperately wanted to hold on to it and make believe that this will last for rest of my life…but then the alarm rang and the list of the day started ticking on my head……..