Skip to main content

Hate List

The hazards of living in Delhi. Talking about it is a pet peeve. Inquisitive neighbours. They pop their heads out ever readily whenever any guests come to visit you, and more so when the guests come in vehicles. And when they leave and you come out to bid the guests goodbye, they have that smile that kind of implores you to tell them all about the visitor or visitors. “Can’t be your brother, uncle, sister?” Er… well… you don’t oblige of course.

Uncivilised blueline drivers. We know about them and they are the most talked about for all their untamed ways. Even in the thick of traffic they would blare their horns and drive at break neck speed. Or, invariably they would slow down bang in the middle of the road any time to offload passengers or pick up a few. They are the king on Delhi’s roads. A few days back, I had a mishap and my first brush with the killer blueline. I was slowing down as the green light turned orange and bang the bugger swerves from the left to jump the red light. Before I realised my car was hit. I wanted to murder the driver but he was gone in no time, hopefully to eternal hell!

Shallow men. Why is Delhi so full of them? Typical example is a boyfriend of someone I know. Friend is in perpetual pain. Boy doesn’t want to totally severe ties but keeps her hanging with the best friend theory. “Let’s be friends always,” he tells her. But when she starts talking about long term plans, he disappears or is out of reach. And every second love story I hear has such a familiar twist to it. I can only come to the conclusion that men here are too much.

Vegetarian shit. I hate going to any parties, weddings or any get-togethers where the menu is laden with vegetarian fare even if it has the most exotic of names. And when I asked people why hosts are so inconsiderate about people like us, I get the most nonsensical of answers. “People serve vegetarian food during marriages here because it is an auspicious day and non-veg food is inauspicious.” Like hell. So is sex off the table too for married couples that day?


Anonymous said…
Ladu, you weren't thinking of the Don when you got hit by the truck were you. If you were...then looks like you were literally struck by cupid’s arrow.

Jokes apart I agree with you on the blue-line buses. Interesting to know these guys kill hundreds every year. I think they should be renamed blood-line buses. Is the government doing anything about it? Well you basically summarized all the reasons why I never wanted to study or work in Delhi.
Anonymous said…
Your last line is hilarious! LOL - Kun Kun
Snigdha said…
Were you talking on the phone when the bus hit you? :)
Indira said…
no sniggy wasnt on the phone!

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

Them Versus Us

Taking off from the Shilpa 'Shitty' issue (I love the surname and that comes from my ever so humorous and intellectual friend Latha or Lotty with love and Angel No. 1 to some :)), here are some reflections on being a north easterner in the capital of the world's largest democracy. Also, Lotty, on a serious note, says I should have a NE angle to what I write. She has a point. I have enough material there, enough to give vent to.

I begin with 'oye Chinky'. When I came to Delhi in the mid 1990s to do a professional course, I wasn't sure what the word meant. Maybe I was too busy paying heed to my new found independence and the certain sense of security -- the fact that I could go to the market even at 10 pm without the peering eyes of the army or the CRPF personnel patrolling the streets and stiffling our existence. It wasn't until my course was over and I got myself a break as a sub editor with the country's premier news agency, that I had my first hand exp…

Glam Gurumaa

Have you ever met a so called godwoman or godman in person? Well I did and I have to talk about this one. On Tuesday night, I got a call asking if I would like to come and meet Anandmurti Gurumaa. My knowledge about ‘spiritual people’ as they would like to call themselves is zero because I have never taken interest in their ilk and India being full of conmen in the garb of spiritualists you tend to look at them with suspicion. I had a friend who stayed for weeks at a house cramped with people in a shady lane in Delhi and they were all fighting and scrambling for the baba’s attention. The baba would perform pujas during the evenings, make them drink and wash with ashes and they would pour heaps of money buying the essentials. The people went to him for all reasons – to sort marital discords, business failures, illnesses, and even vengeance on enemies! It was frightful. I had gone to meet the friend but after a few hours scooted away more scared I would pick a bug from the unhygienic su…