Dilli, Dilli, Dilli

DISCLAIMER : This post will offend anyone who reads it except for little Bengali dudes in Kolkata. So apologies are in order for the next five minutes.

Well I have almost spent a decade now in the part of India that is famous for its crimes more than anything else, namely the National Capital Region and for every DU student who doesn't know what I mean, I'm talking about NCR, bro. Over the years as a jealous proud resident of one of the satellite towns of the capital city, ( No. I don't live in Noida ) I have come to hate Delhi with all my heart and soul. The city that houses the parliament of our nation runs the same way as the parliament , i.e., if people don't get their way they either stage a walkout or break the other person's head. The likelihood of latter happening is much more. 

The funny part about Delhi, or Dilli as it is called in local lingo, is that unlike other cities it does actually have all the stereotypes that are depicted in popular culture. Its not so hard to find that nosy neighbourhood aunty, that show-off family, the migrant sitting in classic Indian labour pose and for that matter the friendly rapist next door. In fact a typical love story in Delhi can be summed up as : I loved her. But I didn't get her. And now I'll rape her. Oh yes people we finally have a love story worse than Twilight and its right here in Delhi. 

On the top of this to have a moniker like ' Dillwalon ki Dilli' is just so funny . Sure, the auto driver who robbed me by taking the longest possible route to my destination was a dillwaala. The Gol Gappa guy ( apparently saying paani puri raises an eyebrow or two here ) who pissed in my food was a dillwaala. Oh wait, that was Mumbai ! God, they are fucked up. 
Coming back to the city, there are obviously some good things about the city as well like the Metro rail. How can a discussion about Delhi ever be over without mentioning the place where I have fought many a battle for the coveted place called a seat. Of course, the Metro official leaking the videos of couples making out late night in Metro is a very normal thing and happens in every city of the world. I tell you even boys these days are felt up by other dudes in the Metro. At least the people are slowly becoming open minded in Delhi with all the LGBT parades and whatnot. Also, one more good thing about Delhi is that it is a melting pot of cultures and for every Punjabi dude you see listening to Honey Singh, you can see a Bengali guy mouthing the lines, " Tumse na hoga beta". 

Being the capital city, we do have some privileges like throwing stones at the minister's house whenever we want. Of course, you have got to run faster than Milkha Singh after that. Also, a special version of the MasterCard ad runs for only for us that goes as :

1. Buying an invitation to a party : Rs. 800  
2. Drinking booze at at the club : Rs. 200
3. Getting a girl drunk so you can grope her : Rs. 300 
4. Ordering a cup of coffee and a side dish for you and your friend : Rs. 800( Mehengai Daayan Khaye Jaat hai ) 
5. Getting lost at night drunk and becoming paranoid that a gang is following you : Priceless

There are some things that money can't buy, for everything else there's your dad's bank account.

And with that people I come to the last uniqueness of Delhi, the dialogue which is older than even other classics such as " Kutte, Kaminey, mujhe bhagwaan ke liye chhodh de. " ( A classic case of God-blocking this is ). Of course, I am talking about the age old " Tu jaanta nahi mera baap kaun hai ?". Translation for our Southie and Chinki readers : " Don't you know who my father is ? ". Well , to think of it I too may have become racist living here. Anyways, whenever I encounter such great human specimens, I only have one answer " Vicky Donor, maybe ? ".   

- The Geek