“A place is much more than the bricks and mortar that go into its construction. I think it’s more than the accidental topography of the ground it stands on.”
– Alan Moore
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Dear Delhi,
Our relationship was the result of my breakup with Mumbai, a city that was most beloved to me. Though it was a mutual breakup, but deep inside, I wanted for that relationship to work out.
Just like all other relationships, yours and mine started with animosity. I disliked you in the beginning. I disliked you for not having the calmness of the Arabian sea.
I disliked you for not having a Marine Drive, where I could find solace in moments of distress. I disliked you for I couldn’t find warmth in your people.
When I got in touch with you, I was never interested in getting attached to you. But, I guess it was one fine Friday morning when I visited Jama Masjid, as I was deeply sad and missing my family, when my heart finally felt something for you.
That was the first time I found peace with you. That was the first time I sat there, and contemplated about you and your incredible qualities.
People fall in love at cafes and bars, in college and school, but I fell in love at a historical place of great significance, and not with a person, but with a city.
And then, our romantic relationship started. I started adoring you. I started roaming around with you. I started talking to you through people, places and books.
I love your calmness when I meet you at Humayun’s tomb, Safdar Jang’s tomb, and the Qutub Minar. You always seem calm and composed at places built by erstwhile Mughal kings, as if you are missing your rulers who treated you like a queen and not like a city.
Whenever I see you at Humayun’s tomb, you give me terrific warmth and tranquility . I forget my worries for a while.
I like how quickly your mood changes. You were enthusiastic, energetic and lively, like a young girl, when I meet you at Connaught Place (CP). And then, you become studious, nerdy and intellectual, in Daryaganj.
When I meet you at the Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah and Bangla Sahib Gurudwara, you amazed me with your spirituality. The peace I feel at those places is contagious. Whenever I meet you at these places, you make me forget all religions. I only remember one god: the one who is supreme.
My friends say you appear boring and dull at the National Museum. But, how can I tell them that it is nothing but a longing for your glorious past.
A few days ago, I recalled our meeting at India Gate. It was the day I came to know about your inclusive and considerate nature—how beautifully you have accommodated people of different regions, faiths and races.
When I meet you at Jama Masjid, you give me incredible peace and taught me about the idea of India. It’s true that I hated that place because of what people do there. But now, that mosque has a hallowed place in my heart.
If the Qutub Minar is your ornament then the Jama Masjid is your scarf. The protests organised here have always saved you from the naked plunders of your former rulers and current politicians.
When I meet you at Khan Market, I see how elite you are. I feel nervous for not being on an equal footing with you. But then, being at Chandni Chowk gives me the sense of familiarity I need.
I love how you make women feel beautiful about themselves whenever I meet you in Sarojini and Lajpat Nagar. You instill confidence in them, when they see themselves in super fancy clothes, available at very reasonable price.
You are abso-blooming-lutely the best in winters! The combination of you, evening tea and Mehndi Hasan’s ghazals in winter, makes one feel like they are in paradise. It is pure bliss!
And, how can I forget to mention the mouthwatering dishes you provide me with! The unmatched Dolma Aunty momos, Karim’s mutton, Aslam’s chicken, Zahra’s biryani, Haldiram’s raj kachori, Daulat ki chaat, the chicken Chettinand from Malabar restaurants, old Delhi’s shirmal, and Naturals ice cream.
According to me, your metro service is the best transport service in the world. I have observed hundreds of stories there: from a small town girl’s arrival in a big city to the interfaith couple headed home; from the struggle of working women to the homemakers who avoid catching a cab to save money for their daughters’ big, fat north Indian weddings.
I always get lost in the crowd at Rajiv Chowk metro station. Of all the Delhi Metro stations, Rajiv Chowk has always been my favourite, not because it provides one with free WiFi, or that its a gateway to CP, but because the ocean of people I encounter there… People of all kinds.
It’s not that you are all beautiful and perfect. You have flaws. Walking with you in the darkness of winter frightens me. It reminds me of the unfortunate Nirbhaya incident that occured on December 16, 2012.
I hate your loudness and aggression on the roads, and during traffic jams. Also, I dislike you when I meet you in Karol Bagh and Mukherjee Nagar. I see students mindlessly put everything at stake to clear the civil services exam.
The results are quite unpredictable. After becoming a part of the rate race, they forget their worth and happiness. I too got acquainted with you in the hopes that you will help me achieve my goal of joining the civil services, but something different happened.
You encouraged me when I fell in love. You calmed me when I was heartbroken.
You taught me how to collect my broken pieces and rise up again.
When my dream shattered, you gave me another dream. You taught me the lessons of resistance and humility.
You provided me with a vision. You gave me meaning. You helped me expand my intellectual horizons.
You exposed me to the diverse cultural traditions of this incredible country: from Kashmir to Tamil Nadu, and Gujarat to Nagaland. And, I learnt lessons of paramount significance from that exposure.
You didn’t make me a civil servant, but you did make me an incredible human being.
I don’t know why I feel this much affection for you. Is it because of your incredible attributes, or that you helped me become a better person, or because I can feel the unbearable pain of betrayal you received from those made your their abode?
It’s only after falling for you I realised the poet Mir Taqi Mir’s madness for you. It was your incredible beauty that compelled the last Mughal king (Bahadur Shah Zafar) to pen poems remembering you. Such was his love for you that he couldn’t bear being separatedd from you and died in exile.
When he wrote:
“Do gaz zameen bhi nahi mili ku-e-yaar mein” (I couldn’t even find two yards of ground to be buried in, in my beloved’s land),
it depicts his tremendous love for you.
Many poets have penned down beautiful poems on you. You are home to timeless poets such as Mirza Ghalib and Amir Khusrow. I remember this quote I read in Elif Shafak’s “The Forty Rules of Love”:
“Every true love and friendship is a story of unexpected transformation. If we are the same person before and after we loved, that means we haven’t loved enough.”
Why I consider myself your passionate lover is because your love has transformed me completely. I can totally relate to this quote. When I met you first I was naive, underconfident, timid and shy. After falling for you, I have become smart, confident, courageous and bold.
I am forever indebted to you for this. I promise you: even if I lose everything I own, I will still remember my days in Delhi.
Always yours,
Marhaba