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By Mrinalini Khattar in Wickked! - On

It’s fun living in Delhi. Sauntering the streets of Connaught Place in our newly acquired ‘Ray Behn’ sunglasses from Janpath for 100 bucks after some serious bargaining, we accidentally step on the holy cow poop and angrily mutter ‘OHHH MAIII GAAAWWD!!! I hate this country!’ It’s another story that we will then mindlessly throw away the empty packet of chips we were eating. Style is us, baby!
Delhi is the Queen of Quirks. And being the Capital city, does she have an attitude or what! With over 18 million people trying to claim her, every day is warfare. If you use the public transportation in Delhi, you know precisely what I’m talking about. Be it scooters, cars, buses, or the Metro, we always try to fit in more than we can. There is always room for ‘edjustment’ in a city where overweight aunties break into a run at the sight of half a seat in the Metro. Find yourself nodding in agreement already? Read on.

Dhishum Dhishum!
I think it’s in our blood. You will realise that every man on the road is wearing a suit of armour underneath his shirt, just waiting for a signal so that they can attack the opposing party, whosoever it maybe. I once heard a man threaten the other with, ’Beta tu ruk, main abhi apne gundon ko phone lagata hun.’ to which the other one replied, ‘Laga saale laga. Tujhe pata hai mere baap ne mere naam 50 acre zameen ki hai???’ How intimidating! I almost peed my pants. Laughing.

Tussles between boys in their teens are way cooler in my o pinion. Just when you think they’ll stop abusing and start a fist fight, they fail you. Instead they decide a time and place where they will meet later and handle the matter properly with their respective ‘backs’.

Because We Have Class.
Money. In Delhi, you either have it or you don’t. If you don’t, you’re probably selling plastic flower showpieces with constantly bobbing heads on the traffic signals near Siri Fort. If you do, then you’ve been seen every now and then in page 3 parties with your freshly dyed blonde hair and matching leopard printed tights (Too bad, you still don’t look ‘Amreekan’). In either of these cases you remain a thoroughly izzatdaar individual. Try tossing a 2 rupee coin at the beggar and they will throw it right back at you.

Uncles and Aunties
A certain ‘Pinky Uncle’ in my colony is your average Delhiite, with a nine-to-five desk job, a happy wife who does the rounds of kitty parties every week and a couple of constantly wailing kids. He graces the wall behind my car with his ‘mutra visarjan’ every friggin’ night. So much for cheap thrills. 

Another neighborhood waali aunty who has always been spotted wearing curtain-sized gowns washes her entire lingerie collection on Sundays and is seen wringing and drying them with a lot of patience.  


So what if the aunty wears a dupatta over her gown when she comes out for a walk in the evening? So what if we Delhiites call everyone closely human looking, ‘bhaiyya’. So what if we always overtake from the wrong side, while driving and give the others a dirty look instead? I still love my city. With all its flaws. Just as it is.

Mrinalini Khattar

Hello, I like to be friends with people who can pronounce my name right.

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