Why Delhi sucks {so much} - Part I

I am a true blue Mumbaiyaa … to the core. IM(H)O, it is the best place to stay in India – the great weather (ok, the rainy season is a bit of a problem), a pulsating nightlife ( I barely qualify here but going by Bombay Times you will agree with my point), excellent public transport , chic restaurants ( I strongly urge you good people to try out Malwani cuisine), a decent public, and above all the reliable power supply. I may wax eloquent over the last point, but you have to stay in Delhi to appreciate the 24X7 electric supply in Bombay. Sample his, the average Delhite (what a sucky name!) goes without electricity for three to four hours everyday. And that too in May. I shudder to think about the state of affairs in June. The temperature averages around 44° C.


The public transport here comprises of rundown buses, autos, taxis and the repulsive rickshaw- wallahs (those dudes still around?). My daily trips to the India Habitat Center starts with a rickshaw ride from Mandaoli to Shekharpur “Red Light Area” ( I can hear ya giggling under your breath. There ain’t no brothel. Apparently the “Red Light Area” gets its name from the traffic signal. See, Delhi logic at its best). Then , I board a bus to Lodhi Road ( a tony locality with horribly over-priced restaurants). A word about Delhi’s local buses. Picture an aging BEST bus. Ok, now drape the exterior with peeling green paint (with dirty graffiti thrown in for good measure). These buses have two conductors (on either of the doors) as ravaging Delhites don’t have the common civic sense to enter from the rear door and alight from the front one. Most of the buses are private and obviously the overriding interest is profiteering from the hapless passengers. There is no uniform rate-card (so common in Bombay’s buses and autos and taxis) so on one occasion I pay seven bucks (probably the right fare) and on the other I get charged ten rupees. Arguing with the uncouth conductors is an exemplary lesson in public humiliation. I had steeled myself to Hindi invectives during my stay in the IIT. In fact, many unprintable words had creeped into the common vocabulary there. But, in the public usage of them was a strict no-no. Delhi is a different animal though. Here you have to append bhenchod to every sentence to make your point across. Anyway back to the issue at hand – the bustling buses. Now, I’ve had my share of peak hour Mumbai traffic. But, I can assure you nothing can prepare you for Delhi’s buses. Tempers flare, sweaty (mostly of the co-passengers smeared onto you) clothes, lewd comments, wisecracks from the conductors, weirdos ogling at females and you precariously hanging onto the handle bars (praying fervently that the driver doesn’t brake hard again). And I have seen drivers drinking and driving. The fact autos don’t have any semblance of a meter so the fare depends on your bargaining power and your skin [the thicker the better].

The restaurants are a big disappointment (mebbe I need to go out of Lodhi Road and Mandaoli). The good ones have rates that don’t make sense and the seedy ones serve inedible food. The restaurants at India Habitat Center (Delhi O’ Delhi, the American Diner which also serves Indian food, Oriental Octopus (!) and Eatopia which is more of a dystopia ) are all ultra expensive. Take Eatopia for example, it serves two baturas and bland chole for eighty rupees. So, I undertake a long sojourn every noon to find a decent place to eat in. I miss SP and Food Court. Mandaoli is another issue. I fear eating there lest I come down with jaundice or other water/food communicable diseases.

I want to keep ranting more, as there is so much to rant about – the power outages, Saharan temperatures and more. But that's for another posting.