Tag: delhi

Don’t grow up, it’s a trap. Please mind the gap.

Quarantined

It’s been so long since anything even remotely amusing has happened in my life. Thank you, lockdown. I have no content. I have been thriving on recycled material. Now, I’ve run out of that too. I now find the silliest events funny. Even the silliest non-sensical ones like getting caught in the automatic metro doors when two of your friends couldn’t make the decision to get in or wait for the next one, in time. Result – one friend inside the metro coach; the other on the station. Me, flailing like a bug that has been hit with a swatter, but mind you, the swatter covered only like 20% of the arthropod’s body. Get it? The swatter is a metaphor for the metro doors. To add shame to injury, in the short time interval between that station and the next, I was showered with bamboozled gazes and quirks on how careless a person I was from random strangers. Boy, don’t people like to judge. Time is relative, indeed. The longest it ever took the metro to reach the next station. Why couldn’t they have just laughed at me? Because I was. Laughing. Sometimes, when you see someone fall over, maybe, laughing at them is not such a bad personality trait. SOMETIMES. Can we normalise this? Sincere request from a person who has faced an unusual number of incidents related to metros. I might have fallen face-forward a couple other times.

Seriously, the thing I miss the most in this lockdown is the Delhi metro. It has been a source of endless memories and some really stupid fun times. The Delhi metro cannot be compared to the Lucknow metro. I get the fact that the Lucknow metro has not been around for that long and I am mindful of the ‘glow-up’ journey that it currently is under. See, first and foremost, the construction and operation of the Lucknow metro in itself was off-putting for me because it RUINED the view from my balcony. (Yeah, some other building that have come up in the last few years are also to be blamed.) Earlier I could see the most amazing sunsets from my balcony. Even if it was just over some far-off building but still, it was much better than seeing the sun set over the tin shed structure of a metro station. In addition to that, when the Lucknow metro is actually functioning it looks like its weaving in and out of the buildings that I can see from my balcony, which to be honest looks pretty dope and creates some mesmerising reflections. Also, its location is terribly convenient.

Oh no, I was supposed to be ranting against the Lucknow metro. Right. Okay. So, the actual functioning of the Lucknow metro is terrible in terms of its suspension (if that’s the right word to use here). Abrupt and uncomfortable stops and starting with unpleasant jerks. Moreover, the slow speed (in comparison to the Delhi metro) and brief stops at stations (to make up for the time lost because of slow speed). Should I be writing a letter to the Metro Corporation? But what am I going to say? Please hire better metro operators? I can actually visualise a Metro Corporation official having an extra oily kachori, using my letter as a plate. But wait. That is incorrect. I’ll obviously be mailing the letter. Where was I going with this? Where am I going with my life? No clue. But my companion in these metro adventures, Paridhi summarised our learning is this beautiful desi shayari.

Agar pehle se khadi ho,

To doosri ke liye pratiksha karein

Yaatriyon se anurodh hai, khadi gaadi me na chadein!

Kyuki dibba ruka hoga par darwaaze rukenge nahi,

Tum daudoge tez par poore andar ghusoge nahi.

When Bird Watching Went Both Ways

Quarantined

If sufficient time has gone by after a horrifying incident, does it qualify as dark humour? Brief context: Visit to Okhla Bird Sanctuary for bird watching. Urgent time bound business in another part of Delhi. Forced to excuse myself from the group. Travel from Okhla Bird Sanctuary, Point A to Point B alone. Now, Point A had two exits. One 1.5 kilometres walking and the other 2 kilometres walking to the nearest means of transport. I still regret the decision I made at the time. I chose the shorter one. Should not have used math at this point in my life. Never thought I’d say this.

So, basically the entire 1.5 kilometres was just an extremely shady, nerve-wracking path of solitude, with random people just appearing occasionally on the path and disappearing enigmatically. Now this path was an ideal setting for a Savdhaan India or a Crime Patrol episode. It had a huge metal wire mesh on one side, beyond which where some huts and mostly dark terrifying foliage. The other side was absolute wilderness. It even had a freaking tunnel. Which decent street do you know that has freaking tunnel? Isn’t this where every wrong thing happens? I swear, I was expecting Anoop Soni to jump out of the bushes, strike his fingertips touching at a 60-degree angle pose and say, “Akhir kya hone wala tha Swasti ke saath? Aaisi kya majboori thi ki usne cab nahi bulai? Jaannege iss chotte se break ke baad.” Was I about to cry? Yes. Did I? No. At least not externally. Why did I not turn around? Well then, I had to retrace my path through the gali straight out of a thriller movie and then walk another 2 kilometres. Also, I had time commitments at Point B. I have never been quicker to send my current location to my family ever. Then obviously I called them up. Did they pick up? Yeah, about 15 minutes later. The sheer panic that I was in gives me goose-flesh even today. After walking for another 6-8 minutes, all the while my neck trying its best to imitate that of an owl to keep vigilance in all directions, I see a parking lot of a decent looking office building.

Were my woes over? I wish. Enter two men with crooked smiles. Without jumping to conclusions, I inquired about the nearest mode of transport from them. They tell me it’s at least another half a kilometre to the junction where one can hail a rickshaw to a metro station. They proceed to tell me that it is not such a safe way ahead and I should just catch a ride in their ‘office’ vehicle (It was a freaking white van with black tinted windows!) to the metro station. I yeeted out of there so quick, it’s not even funny. Certainly not then. If any of you have this itch to tell me that maybe I misread the situation, do not talk to me, EVER! I don’t care if I really did read the situation wrong. Trust me, I don’t. I think Anoop ji would have been proud of me. Back on the lonely path the only way I was consoling myself was that the situation couldn’t get any worse. Or could it?

Finally, saw an electric rickshaw in the distance. I swear I ran to it. Apparently, there was a temple nearby and there were people there. People with non-crooked smiles. I sat down in one without even bothering to check which metro station we’d be going to. Turns out, I was dropped at a station that just added an agonising 15 minutes to my travel time to Point B. Oh boy, was I running late! Nonetheless, I was alive enough to be late to Point B and not actually Late. Hehe. I can neither confirm nor deny if I had tears of joy in my eye on actually seeing the metro station. I did.

P.S. Also Anoop ji I swear I tried to book a cab, but there just weren’t any available. Not one.