A Strange Sighting

Surprises. Delhi is full of surprises. It is the one constant in the otherwise flexible and continuously changing way of life here.This single characteristic above all others lends Delhi its uniqueness. Delhi never ceases to throw up something unexpected in the face of even its well-versed inhabitants. Any mundane day can instantly be spruced up by a vision or incident that seems to twist the fabric of our ordered social lives and leave one wondering and thinking and marvelling at the sights this city keeps throwing up.

It is generally held in Delhi that Gurgaon, one of its satellite cities, seems to be in almost another world. Agreeably, there is almost a monumental shift in the surroundings; however it is not so departed as to be treated with some different sort of yardstick. Over the years, Gurgaon has become an intrinsic part of Delhi and for almost all intents and purposes, is regarded by most, as a part of Delhi itself.

As I crossed over into Gurgaon in the morning, I noticed an eerie phenomenon. The traffic was squeezing itself out of one lane, causing a slow moving build-up in the other two. As I cautiously moved into the empty lane, I spotted a procession of around a score of men walking down my way. I swiftly moved back into the traffic, for processions in Delhi are known to wreak havoc on unsuspecting and innocent commuters who happen to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. The procession proceeded proudly, opposite to the traffic, menacingly ordering traffic out of their lane. They bore no banners, shouted no slogans, only the Indian tricolour held aloft by one of the men. They seemed obviously upset over something but it was undeclared, they gave no indication towards the reason of their march. Processions and protest marches are quite a spectacle in Delhi. Loud, noisy, boisterous affairs which seldom remain peaceful. Most end in clashes with the authorities and come to an end without concrete conclusions. This one seemed different for this reason alone. However defiant it seemed it was different as it was subdued and it was this fact that made it all the more intriguing. As the procession continued, I spotted two men, around whom the rest of the people were obviously centred. Why this fact was so blatantly apparent is this: these two gentlemen were entirely nude. Devoid of any clothing or footwear, they carried only a hand held fan.

My thoughts immediately flitted to the revered Naga Sadhus. For those of you who do not know, the Naga Sadhus comprise a powerful sect of ascetics, devotees of Lord Shiva, who wear their unshaved hair in long locks but do not don any clothing. They spend their lives working towards the attainment of moksha – nirvana. However, the men under my observance bore no other similarities to the nagas except the lack of clothing. Nagas cover their bodies with ash and are not seen in the middle of a highway. Nay, these men didn’t look like nagas. They simply looked like two men who seemed upset with some aspect of their life and had decided to protest in this manner. The fact that they exposed the world to obscenities and probably scarred the minds of some little children unfortunate enough to spot them in the process obviously bore no consequence for them.

What their reason was for taking to the roads in such a despicable state is beyond my understanding. I leave it up to you to figure it out, with the hope that they are soon successful in their quest, lest they retake the streets and give unwelcome surprises and unnecessary pause in the lives of hundreds of unsuspecting, unwilling people.

Only In Delhi.

Just Another Day In Delhi

Of the hundreds visual stimuli presented by the roads of Delhi on my drive today, 3 remain stuck in my memory. Let me present them in the order of their presenting themselves to me.

Waiting at a traffic intersection, I noticed, most unsurprisingly, a few beggars conducting brisk business. I also spotted the slum perched on the rocky outcrop several metres high right next to the intersection. The Vasant Vihar Coolie Camp, as the slum is called, is spread over more than an acre of government land and has burgeoned from just a couple of houses to a slum sprawling into the woods behind in just a couple of decades.

Driving further, I had to make way for a group of motorcyclists, proudly astride their Harley Davidsons, showing off the gleaming chrome and flawless leather riding gear and instilling a deep sense of longing in other poorer commuters with the deep throaty roar of their engines.

Just when I thought I had seen enough display of opulent wealth, I was overtaken by a Rolls Royce Phantom, The Spirit of Ecstasy riding proudly on the hood, as a symbol of excellence and indicative of obscene wealth.

If you are to spot both of the last two of the three sights mentioned above on a single day, you can be quite certain that it is a Sunday. For Sunday is the day the bourgeoisie of Delhi come out in strength and bring out their most expensive wheels to enjoy them on the comparatively empty streets.

If you are wondering why I would shed light on this along with a mention of the slums, let me tell you that my intention was to share with you two opposing aspects of Delhi in terms of money. On one hand we have the uber rich citizens, indulging in sinful pleasure to a degree which would be considered almost criminal by some. On the other hand, however, we have citizens who live under the poverty line, a large percentage of whom are food insecure. People of both fiscal classes are as intrinsic a part of Delhi as the other and this city’s identity would be incomplete without either.

I met with an elderly gentleman a few days ago, a resident of Bangalore. He shared his observations of the large number of homeless people on the streets of Delhi and expressed his deep sense of discontent over their pitiful condition and his frustration towards the government for not doing anything to uplift these people. He also lamented that the extremely rich people of Delhi do nothing to help the homeless and continue to live their pampered lives absolutely guilt free. I sympathize with his feelings, but I would like to take the opportunity to highlight here the opinions of the average Delhiite. It is said that even God doesn’t help those who don’t help themselves. Although not much of a believer of God myself, I do believe this adage applies fully and truly here. Unknown to the gentleman from Bangalore, I can vouch for the fact that a vast majority of the homeless people of Delhi have resolved themselves to a life of poverty and are quite content with their lot in life. A lot of attempts are made to help and uplift them but are mostly futile. Alms distributed are spent buying hooch more often than food for the family, able bodied men give up any chance of finding employment in favour of a more sedentary and lazy lifestyle of begging at traffic signals. Attempts to relocate The Vasant Vihar Coolie Camp have met with stiff resistance from the slum dwellers, not entirely unexpectedly. Nobody wishes to uproot themselves and relocate once settled. As long as attempts to help the destitute continue to face resistance, whether from politicians, the opposition or the poverty stricken people themselves, there can be no hope for improvement.Delhi has always been and will probably continue to be a city where the poor and rich live in extremely close and oftentimes unsettling proximity.

Only In Delhi.