The City Of Djinns

One step on the New Delhi railway station's platform, the other still on the Frontier Mail, and I can breathe the same humid oily stench of the second-time fried stale pakoras for new customers.

The sour taste of rusted benches and staircase railings putrefies my mouth. The unpleasant odour of the red robed, curly moustachioed coolies' armpits brushing past me during the two-minute halt of the train, leaves me gasping. The assortment of hair oil scents leaves me confused.

A walk towards the Paharganj side confirms the existence of auto- rickshaw exhaust fumes. A peep outside the filmed window glass is a display of black and white, brown and beige, pink and rosy, yellow and mustard, grey and green; all forms, colours, creeds of life. A Djinn sits on every ear and speaks of its origin, lifestyle, religious place and lingo. Some smiling, others with inverted curves.

A fleet of yellow-green DTC buses forms the lifelines of the city advertising abortion clinics to basmati rice, bold and clear, but no one can read where the bus takes you. Mercs and Astras flood the roads. Such is the city of Delhi, the city of Djinns- from the chawls of Chandni Chowk with its waiting queues at the decades old jalebi shop to the Kent Kebabs of Defence Colony where people circle the 200 m ring in their Pontiacs and BMW's.

Famed for its gardens and historical monuments, Delhi has long been the centre of India's imperial power. New Delhi, constructed on a site adjacent to the old city, was inaugurated as India's capital in 1931. Some people believe that Delhi's strategic site on the Yamuna River in north central India was settled as early as 1400 BC. The first city of historic significance appeared on the site in the 1st century BC, followed by the founding of at least seven cities under a series of royal rulers. Defensive walls were constructed, and a distinctive Indo-Islamic architecture developed. Seventeenth-century mosques and other impressive structures from the reign of the Moguls still survive in Old Delhi.

I have walked this city for almost a decade now : dreamt of the dolls dining set at the Doll House at ITO, seen the film in the tiny box at India Gate, gasped at the tallest Minar of the world, half the while wondering how the Lotus temple got its shapely cut, picked up a British accent off the airport, sat fishing on the Yamuna bank anticipating a dead body on my hook and still been mesmerized by it's diversity. The city speaks for itself with no formal introductions - the crowded accident-a-day Dhaula Kuan circle and' Bartania Chowk as the conductors call it in their lingo, the business barons on Prithvi Raj road and Janakpuri, Asia's largest colony. As a child, I remember sitting on a jute chatai in front of the television with neighbours, watching the same annual Republic Day parade every year.

As India's third largest city, Delhi today faces many of the challenges common to large urban centres, including meeting the housing needs of an ever-expanding population. Environmental degradation and a deteriorating infra-structure presents serious problems as well. However, Delhi's unique character endures in its colourful bazaars, luxurious gardens, and treasured monuments, among which are the Red Fort, the royal tombs, and the British-designed Parliament House, the pillars of which I haven't succeeded in counting till date.

An auto rickshaw (or taxi) tour along the Mahatma Gandhi Marg that encircles the city like onion rings (better known as the Ring road) through Naraina and towards East Delhi in the early hours reveals the sun touching the bodies of those already at work in the fields. In stark contrast are the marble shops that dot the streets for kilometers together. Towards the East one sees what an urbanite would call 'the vegetable pie of the world'; the Azadpur vegetable mandi. On the other side of Delhi via the bridge, bordered by freshly-cut cucumber and jaljeera vendors is the entry route to Uttar Pradesh through the territory of Noida. Take an early morning jog along Chanakyapuri, the Diplomatic kibbutz of Delhi : the vine coloured tombs of the embassy of our not so friendly neighbour, the endless queue at the U.K embassy for visas, the lush green china grass where people diligently practice yoga, the back of the Rastrapati Bhavan.

For tourists, Janpath shops flaunt favoured saffron drapes with mythological and religious designs intermingled with strings of beads and traditional leather pouches. The Hanuman Mandir is where early larks get to see hordes of flowers being sold, the morning air filled with the perfume of freshly cut flowers. At noon you can't possibly miss the aroma of the stuffed kachoris and halva being cooked in tons of ghee.

Delhi is an amalgamation of cultures, the breeding ground of many dreams. It is a savage assault on your senses. Delhi cannot be ignored.