I am fifteen years old in Delhi. For a long time I was toying with the idea of writing something about Delhi and the way I have seen it, the way I have experienced it. In fact, I once written a couple of pages but I never had the time to edit it. Utpal, my friend, asked me several times to continue writing, but I never did that.
Recently I got a mail from Vicki, asking me to be the administrator of the Delhi – My City blog, and that gave me the idea to write about Delhi. But the question is what to write about Delhi? It is so vast that it is almost impossible for me to write all about it. I may not have all the information that might require completing the blog. The information might be wrong. So I thought why not write about Delhi the way I have seen it and experienced it!
My experience of Delhi is mixed. Some are very good, some are not so good and some are very painful, painful enough for me to try to forget it although I know it very well that painful memories can never be wiped out from the memory.
In the mid-eighties when I first came to Delhi, and was staying at Assam Bhawan in Chanakyapuri, I was to meet a gentleman. I had his name and address but the address was incomplete. Anyway, in search of that gentleman I reached Tilak Nagar and looked for him. The address had the house number but not the street (gali) number, and whoever wanted to help me asked for the gali. Finally someone said that there was a Sardar who also belongs to the media and he might be able to help me. The Sardar turned up to be a newspaper vendor, but even in the month of May when everyone wants to stay inside because of the heat outside, the Sardar came out with me and searched for that gentleman for two hours. I will never forget that Sardar gentleman.
Two months later in my next visit to Delhi, again I was staying at Assam Bhawan. This time one evening I went for dinner at Dr T.C. Bordoloi’s house at Pragati Vihar Hostel. While returning I mistakenly took the bus of the opposite direction, and reached Palam Village. It was around 10-30 in the night. There was no other bus to take me back. The night service is to start at 12 O’ clock in the midnight. Knowing my plight the bus conductor shows his sympathy. He also offered me a cup of tea. But when he came to know that I am from Assam, he was very enthusiastic to talk to me. He was deputed to Tezpur of Assam as a polling officer during the 1983 election. It was the bus conductor who sent me back to Assam Bhawan in a bus which was returning to its depot after finishing its duty. Years later I spoke about the incident to my editor in The Sentinel, and the unnamed bus conductor got a mention in his editorial. I will never forget that bus conductor.
Talking about the bus conductor, there was one more bus conductor that I bumped into. It was December 1995 when I landed in Delhi with bag and baggage. I was looking for a decent apartment and till I get one, I was staying at a Paharganj hotel. In one of those days I decided to pay a visit to Ashish Da (Chakraborty) in Faridabad. But Ashish Da was out of station. While returning I thought about meeting the Bordolois again. They were still at Pragat Vihar Hostel. Since I could not get any bus from Faridabad to near to Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, I decided to change the bus at Ashram chowk. People at Ashram chowk asked me to go either Mulchand or Lajpat from where I could easily get a bus to Nehru Stadium. I have heard of Lala Lajpat Rai, but who is this Mr Mulchand? Not to take a risk I asked a bus coming from the direction of Faridabad, “Does it goes to Nehru Stadium?” The bus conductor asked me where actually I want to go. When I told him that I have to go to Nehru Stadium, he asked me to get in and said that his bus is going to Lal Quilla and from there I shall get plenty of buses to Nehru Stadium. Needless to say that only after crossing I.T.O. co-passengers corrected my mistake and scolded the bus conductor. I will never forget this bus conductor too.
All five fingers are not equal. So are all the people. I have met people some of whom I will never be able to forget, like the newspaper vendor of Uttam Nagar, the Bus Conductor of Palam Village, the Rizwan family, Esha Guha, Potla Da, Monojit Lahiri, Ruchi Ratna and of course the Bordoloi family (I shall tell later about my relationship with the Bordolois). And I too shall never be able to forget the Bus Conductor who took me to Lal Quilla, and many others whom I do not want name here.
I might edit it later, just to add something that I am not being able to recollect now.
