Impressions of New Delhi

Yesterday I suffered a panic attack as I saw my daughter step out of the house. She planned to catch the metro to meet friends in Gurgaon. I was fine with that. She would be back before dark - and that was reassuring. So what was my problem? I had read the morning papers. Some days ago a young college girl had been shot dead in an area crowded with people. A few days later the killer has been nabbed. What worried me was that being in a crowded public space did not protect her. Whether any bystanders tried to help her or not is another question. So the culprit is behind bars - why was I still panicking? Possibly because, unlike the vociferous banner wielding protesters - I do not blame the police. I see the eve teasers and stalkers as frustrated testosterone charged men who do not know what it is to be friends, or have relationships with a member of the opposite sex. They get their behavioral cues from bollywood and tollywood film heroes. Or possibly an equally misguided peer group. Th...

Once you reach the metro station at Central secratariat, buy a ticket for chandni chowk. Like any self-respecting time capsule our modern day wonder - the spotlessly clean, state of the art metro will deposit you into another century. Step across the sleeping sadhu, walk past the Kali temple, skirt the electric station duisguised as an ancient, if rather grimy, ant hill and you will hit a path that is blocked by several rikshaw pullers. The most agile one will leap over the others and offer to take you for a chandni chowk ride. Jama masjid, jain temple, ghalib ki haveli, dariba kallan, paranthe wale gali, kinari bazaar, red fort and back all for just Rs 100. and if you say yes to that you are being generous. He expects you to bargain him down to at least Rs 80. As you climb into your rickshaw be prepared for the colours, smells, sights and ofcourse the people. More people than you have ever seen before. All of them jostling, and elbowing their way to do whatever they have come to chand...

My daughter is away to college, my son was away for the Pilani festival and the husband was out on a business trip. One that involved attending a Donna Summers concert in Las Vegas!! It was an ideal time to sms my old school, college and work friends and plan a ladies night out. An evening devoted to giggling at old jokes, finding new persons to bitch about. And over analysing ancient and shared events. Alas alack, the dilli ki girls are celebrating navratras. They are giving up the pleasures of a fun night out to please stone gods installed in temples made of bricks and mortar. "My Treat, new Italian food joint, lets try the Thai curry at..." Everything drew an after Navratras response. But in return what I did get were invitations to all the card parties they were planning. In a last desperate bid to avoid another night in front of the TV or the Computer I suggested a "let's go for Coffee, to the Taj, My Treat... anything, something has got to work! And that...

This morning I opened the paper to read that our killer bluelines have claimed their 97th victim this year. And while driving to work, as I turned the corner from my house a speeding car, driving on the wrong side of the road rammed into my much scraped and battered car. On a normal day I would have cursed my luck, then proceeded to argue and insist that the other driver pay for the damage. Today my mood was different. The activist in me screamed - do something, anything, don't let him get off the hook. And as the other driver started his little speech my resolve to do the right thing grew."Madam, in the last 20 years I have hit several cars. These things happen on Delhi Roads. I am sure you too must have hit people while driving." Is this guy for real? does he hear what he is saying? "Madam, I did not hit your car intentionally. It just happened. I am sure it has happened with you too. Its happened with my wife so often." Are these police walas hearing what he...