Ye Hai Dilli Meri Jaan

Frosty is on its way home. Aboard a nice train from Udaipur, it is racing now towards Delhi. It needs an urgent heart transplant. The doctor is ready. Hopefully a spare heart will be here by the time Frosty arrives. Its been a long painful time for her.

Brother’s Pulsar180 just doesn’t cut it. Too plasticky (yes, I can hear plastic rattling at high speeds). Doesn’t go fast enough – tops out at 93. Torque is just not enough. Sitting pillion for the to and fro ride everyday is an open invitation to arthritis. Racing away from killer buses and maniac cars is not easy. But it handles beautifully. Banks perfectly and is super nimble when the traffic is at 55 kmph (which it is almost all of the time).

Delhi roads have a very different driving ethos compared to Mumbai. Stuff moves as fast but people like to carry their lives in their pockets when they travel. People consider helmets to have been pushed on them and make every effort to wear as small, battered and basically useless helmets as physically possible as if to show law the finger. By the time they realize that it was a mistake, their brain is splattered across the Delhi Gurgaon Highway with 20 people watching and saying he should have worn a better helmet. Then they wear their own excuse for a helmet and ride away.

People have very little respect for other drivers on the road and think allowing other drivers on the road is a direct contravention of their right of driving as they please. And they make sure everyone else on the road knows exactly what they think. And everyone else reciprocates faithfully.

Lanes are just lines mistakenly made on the road.

When they cut across lanes without lights or consideration (followed religiously by endless honking by the car behind), the fault lies with the roads department, not them.

Waiting on a red light is a punishment and it doesn’t matter if they are 1 hour early for your meeting, they will still jump the light, miss the oncoming car by an inch and swear at them with the choicest words. No love is lost because it will be the oncoming car jumping the light the next time. Its all just a beautifully organized chaos like a nice ballet. Riding on the footpath. Honking at pedestrians. Brushing against Blue Line buses. Its just amazing.

But then. when you are hungry after having worked 10 hours straight, you rarely ever think about road rules. You think about the paranthas and rajma chawal. If you lose your life chasing those things, it might just be worth it.

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