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.

Give Me A Rupee

If you are jolted out of your reverie by the sound of a sharp clack on the window of your car and turn your head to find a dirty snot covered staring at you, you know you are at a traffic light in Delhi. Every few minutes as a few hundred vehicles roll to a halt at a traffic light, a sudden maniacal buzz of activity takes over the road. Scores of children swarm the street and start begging, selling poor quality kitsch or rubbing the windshields of the cars with greasy rags which in reality leave them dirtier than before. Seen from the comfort of an air-conditioned car, one beholds a chaos like none other, with people zigzagging between the cars, narrowly missing being crushed by rolling cars and bikes while balancing insane amounts of merchandise. All this is seen with the quality of a TV commercial with the mute button pressed. That is, until the window is rolled down and a cacophony of blaring horns, cries of the beggars and the wailing of babies assaults the ears.

Begging is an extensive industry in Delhi, with organized begging being practiced on each road, street and market across the city, with revenues running into several crores of rupees. Beggars have perfected the knack of annoying people into giving them money, be it on the road or in the market. Most people just give them money to get them to stop beating and scratching their precious gleaming cars or to get rid of them in crowded marketplaces. One child literally did a headstand on my shoe a few years while I stood in queue outside a movie theatre. Trust me you, trying to count my change with a kid stuck to my shoe was not an easy feat. People, especially Delhi’s women are repulsed and terrified by beggars, a fact which is well known and exploited by the latter. A couple strolling through a market are the victims of choice for they are the people who want to be bothered the least. Men throw money into the eager hands of child beggars to the sound of blessings towards the longevity of the couple. In reality, it is done just to avoid them running their hands up their girlfriend’s legs, a sight seen much too often in markets like the PVR Priya or PVR Anupam complexes.

It is indeed sad that nothing is done to curb the menace of begging in Delhi, it is now as integral part of the city as is the January fog. When children should be at school, gaining education and working towards a brighter future, thousands are forced to beg each day for their livelihoods. Although most Delhiites only see them as the menace they indubitably are, some do feel their plight. Unfortunately the average Delhiite finds himself powerless in the face of such a malignant problem. He just sets a stony expression, tosses out the occasional rupee, rolls up the window to his car, shrugs and drives off.

Only In Delhi.