Stories From A Yellow Room

Friday, June 6, 2008

Nayi Dilli

I charted out today on a path I had not treaded on, since a couple of months. Seemed like, my two week hibernation period had transformed Delhi roads to the point of being unrecognizable. The population of trees had dwindled, while that of metal and steel on the other hand had promulgated. BRT’s stood like dead effigies representing a governments’ miserably failed attempt and uncanny planning. Metro construction reaping the ill remarks of many estranged travellers stood on the ground of a promising future. Amid the “progressive” scene, traffic ceased to progress at any rate. The scorching sun heightened the tension and I was glad not to be in the driver’s seat. My father started his favourite conversation initiated by pre-historic memories of the city and present day chaos. “You know” retorted my father, “there was once a time when this entire stretch of land was covered by heavy plantation, it was unsafe to walk by one’s self even in broad-daylight. Foxes and jackals howled at night reminding everyone of one’s fatal proximity to nature. Look at all this mess now, all the bloody government”. I listened patiently for the nth time, my imagination failed to go back to his time. I could not succeed at framing a picture of Delhi in his words. To me this was the reality with me as a part of it. But as of now we were part of the traffic, moving at snails’ speed, growling like jackals, reaching out for the past, wishing for a better future.

1 comment:

pooja said...

A short and beautiful account, made me smile in the end.