It is strange – how I miss Delhi when I’m travelling. No, really!
I miss the city in all its various moods and minds – its traffic, its streets and their sidelong arteries, its flower-bedecked winter boulevards, its foggy December mornings… and yes, I even miss the morning rush hour in its look and feel on the Delhi Metro.
But is it strange I miss Delhi when I’m away? Perhaps not! After all, absence has been credited with making the heart grow fonder! And a home is always better appreciated when you are away from it.
And so, as I get out of the airport late one January night, I am keenly aware of what all I like about the city that has been home to me for the last two decades. An ode to Delhi?
Nah… a prelude to an ode to Delhi, this is!
I love the Delhi winter. It gives the city its fashion season, and open-hair season to the ladies (no, Delhi summers do not permit you that style luxury – open hair…. yes, we do have air conditioning in Delhi, but it is not for holding up open-hair styles).
Winter also makes the city look beautiful – with flowers of rainbow hues and a veritable explosion of them in parks, gardens, along pavements, and on the wide roundabouts in and around central Delhi.
heck out this clip for the magnificent Mughal Garden. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4bCLjN79Hk
The Delhi winter imbues the city with a feminine allure – in early dusks that bring with them an unspoken and vague sadness – in its softer outlines visible as one drives through – in its balmy days that are short, sweet and with the sun turned up to just the right temperature.
Winter is also when the city’s cultural quotient gets cranked up… book readings, musical soirees, plays and exhibitions. It’s captivating for its attractive lineup of activities, and part of the attraction is that we all know it is a short lived romance.
I love Delhi for its food – the variety in cuisines, kinds and costs. All the way from parathas in parathe-wali gali to five-star gourmet food, Delhi has it all.
And there is a lot to say about the Delhi summer too. Oh yes, I mean that. The Delhi summer has majesty. The shimmering heat, the great midday trees standing still in the anticipation of a dust storm, the profusion of mangoes – of all kinds, the sheer tropical sun reflecting off the asphalt.
It is the stuff of an Arabian summer tale. Even the dust storms that enfold the city in their gritty grasp ever so often are vainglorious, much like the chieftains and kings that lived and died for Delhi through the centuries.
As we serenade the summer how can I miss out the mangoes? We have more than 500 varieties of mangoes cultivated in India, and summertime Delhi has a mango festival that celebrates the luscious fruit in all its glorious splendor.
It can be an amazing experience and abruptly your sight shifts beyond the pervasive city smells and you see the city as you would see an old love. You see its carefree and vivacious youth… you see how time has mellowed its lines, given it grace… you see how it has held up through storms and stalled parliament sessions… and you see how it continues to give of itself, despite everything and everyone.
I look out the car window and we are at the toll plaza beyond which lies Gurgaon. Ah, now that’s another story….
Delhi Baroque 