It’s practically a rite of passage to sneer at the place you grew up, and in your case, you make it easy thanks to the flaws you’ve become synonymous with. It’s alright, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing, it’s okay, it’s fine. Growing up here, I didn’t love you. You were just there, being normal, being New Delhi, being fine. Your tired air always around me, carrying the Vitamin D deficiency that has trailed me my whole life. In as much as I ever considered you as a place, you just happened to be the city that housed the Parliament.
Photo by Chris Leon
And then, I moved away. Let’s be honest, you’d think anywhere would be an improvement after 29 years in New Delhi. But, oh my city, oh my place of birth, I fell for you and I fell hard. It was like realising that you are in love with your best friend. I saw you with new eyes and now, I adore you.
It was last autumn, when I returned home after a protracted period of time. As the plane descended into you, Delhi, I didn’t see the lit-up veins of my city. Instead I saw my mother rescue me from a fall, my high school graduation, jitters of a first date, my very first time behind a camera. I saw my friends smiling, laughing and always drinking too much coffee. Hugging my parents after being gone too long, and the happy, almost welcomed chaos at Diwali dinner.
It’s not that you are beautiful, with your speckled monuments, your incredible sights, your imperfect patchwork of markets. It’s not just the endless joy of your twisting roads, passages and alleyways. It’s not your overwhelming history contained within the city walls, or the fact that you have arguably the best wholesale markets in the world. It’s not even the fact that you have the best food the country has to offer.
It’s the fact that you are an independent city; a, thriving, bustling city that never cares what other people think about you. No one ends up in Delhi by accident. If you’re here, it’s because you’re meant to be. There’s no other reason, no way anyone can happen to be just passing through. When you are the only metropolitan city for miles and miles around, you attract the different ones. The ones who never really fit in with their town or village. They come to you, Delhi, and they find their place here. I see them, the various tribes, in every place I visit in this city. No one judges them, no one talks about them, no one really even notices them; they’re just left to get on with whatever floats their boat. They’re welcomed, they’re respected and wherever one might find themselves in the glorious cityscape, one will see that.
You never shout out loud who you are; you just get on with it and let everyone else get on with their stuff too. You’re beautiful, you’re special, you’re fierce and you’re alright. You say that you’re fine. To my eyes, you are a mighty fine city, and goddammit, I love you.
Written By Rhea Baweja
Week 42, October ’20
