Delhi.....yet again!

New Delhi - Delhi - Dilli -- The capital of a populous democracy, famous for masculine Red Fort, tall Kutubminar, bustling Chandni Chowk, gorgeous Taj Mahal in the neighbourhood and its culture.

The memories of Chandni Chowk are still fresh and the aromas of kulche, paranthas, cholle, aalloo tikki...yum yum, the taste lingers. The cycle rickshaws, shawl clad people walking on streets, hot stuffed parathas being cooked by the roadside and served with tea, people grouped and enjoying a puff of beedi, the normal class busy with their everyday life. Dilli ki Sardi ki baat hi kuch aur hain!

Lovely and colourful and cheap markets; Delhi is vibrant and a touch of royalness is witnessed when you see those dainty shy girls clad in salwar kameez and modernly dressed girls redefining fashion; a culture whose foundation is an outcome of fusion of Hindustani and Moghul cuisine, art and culture, which  makes Delhi an exquisite experience.   

Basically, everything about this city comes in a spotlight; the good and the bad.

Nirbhaya gang rape, Mr CM, his tweets, his policies, most polluted city, not so old odd-even car policy and the recent 'world cultural festival' marking 35 years of 'Art of Living.' - Delhi has always been media's favourite.

A recent broil about why only Delhi for world cultural festival? The river is dying and now this event has seen a huge turn-over through out the world.

A lot of criticism and I don't want to get into politics, not my cup of tea.

As a teenager, I remember visiting Mathura on a pilgrimage. The makhanchor, nand laal's bhumi, where a speck of dust too is considered pious, the air, the water and the entire Vrindavan is nothing but a representative of Kanha. Hare Rama..Hare Krishna is constantly ringing in your ears. I encountered those white vaishnavas in saffron robes, immersed in 'Bhakti' and one feels surprised. How can someone of a different culture and lifestyle be so comfortable in a new culture? Fondly known as Krishna's bhumi, it must have been clean during his reign; cleanliness is godliness but I was surprised to see Mathura so filthy, so unclean and unhygienic. We went to banks of Yamuna; it smelled horrid and I never understood a bunch of people led by priests offering prayers to Yamuna; milk, rice grains and flowers with great satisfaction reflecting on their faces. Not only Mathura, a few pilgrim places in Maharashtra - Pandharpur, Tuljapur and Akkalkot are no exception.

Coming back to Yamuna, the pollution was evident but yet people were ignorant though recently several NGO's have taken an effort to cleanse this holy river but why do we need a reason to oppose? Why in the first place a gathering was required to make us all realize 'largely'about the dying Yamuna? It has been dying a slow death for several years...so it is unfathomable to me that a 3 day event is causing a major threat to Yamuna than those industries that have been polluting it for several years.

It only leaves an impression that in today's day and world, there is a set of people who believe in doing something and another set who believes in criticising and not necessarily both are correct.

Sadly, People who talk about Yamuna conservation that is making so much noise now, don't care about:

pollution caused due to them using plastic bags

their habit of littering everywhere

spitting that pan masala

smoking in public places

honking horns

violating traffic rules

smoke given out from their vehicles

indulgence into shopping and buying non-sustainable products

being unkind and rude

gang rapes and child abuse

Not only Delhi but all metros are chaotic, losing their integrity, peace and calm. Our natural resources are at stake. Quality of life is declining. So wake up! People living in East, West and South of India all of a sudden are concerned about Yamuna, which is appreciable but they need to raise their voice for problems in their state, city, town, village they are in has many more problems to be dealt with. 

My question to you is - there must be a river or pond or lake in your surroundings or neighbourhood, what have you done for its restoration so far? Did you stop disposing 'Nirmaalya' or immersing idols of Ganesh and Durga mata?

It would be sensible if we do not become prey to politics and become a part of it, we are highly evolved creatures and something substantial is expected from us. 

Every time you protest, be honest about the reason of protesting. It shouldn't be influenced by religion and politics - be honest and neutral; neither leftist nor rightist, be neutral when it comes to natural resources.

It is not only Yamuna that needs to be conserved and cleansed but also our conscience.

Pic courtesy: Google. 

Dirty lanes..

The only highlight Shruti looked forward to was her evening stroll with her Aaji (grandmother) during those 2 months of summer vacations; that was packed with interesting encounters. Walking through local grocery market, cloth market, old market, libraries, utensils bazaar etc etc. Shruti noted her experiences in her diary that very night.

So much to see, learn and enrich, Shruti was a big fan of her Aaji. 

Today, Aaji decided to trudge through one such lane of the city, mostly populated with houses glued to each other sharing common walls almost looking like compartments of railway, whistles of pressure cookers adding hot steam in air with the aroma of rice and pulses, from somewhere radio playing songs of 80s and 90s, young girls in groups chatting, boys running and screaming, men stretching themselves in lungi's and pajamas discussing their day. 

These were normal houses with normal stories but judgmental eyes never saw the normalcy. The existence of people dwelling in never mattered to rest of the city. Shruti and Aaji passed another patch where women of different sizes, shapes, colour would wear make up and sit on threshold of their houses. She saw a woman, stout, square faced, neatly done eyebrows, dark red patchy lipstick, with a gajra, a cheap but sequined saree with a velvet blouse. Another young woman in a gown sitting with an old man. The other house with a woman getting dressed up and giggling in between and a man sleeping on an iron cot observing her, with lust in his eyes. The neighborhood teen aged girl in salwar kameez with a middle aged man, walking with his arms around her neck.

What Shruti observed was that though these houses looked normal, there was something abnormal about their existence. The women were sad but yet doing what they were supposed to do, they weren't cooking but were wearing make up. There was a man in every house but they didn't look like a family. Some houses had no one but the woman was sitting on the threshold waiting for someone to come, all decked up. A group of women with glittering clothes and loud makeup were chatting and looking around like a hawk. There was something unusual about these houses, these women, their stories and lives.

               

pic courtesy: google

Shruti asked her Aaji, 'Do they look different to me or are they really different. I mean the houses, the women, their lives?' Shruti had only seen them in movies and sort of knew that they exist in the society. 

Aaji smiled, 'You observed right, there is something different and the difference is that they are strong women, who live life on their own terms, they are prostitutes. They have their own society and are comfortable within their circuit. Society doesn't understand them, looks down on them but for me they are a living example of being strong. After all no woman chooses to be a prostitute!'

What is the purpose for me to see this Aaji? asks Shruti innocently.

Aaji replies, 'I want you to understand that the world is a place where flowers and thorns live together, dark and ugly have their own identities, rich and poor have their own existence, normal and abnormality are contradictory. What is abnormal to you is perfectly normal to someone else. So don't judge anyone and before having an opinion, think twice. Just as these women, they became prostitutes due to circumstances, wrong decisions. A person is not good or bad but circumstances and decisions unfortunately make them one'.

Shruti understood something, her Aaji was preparing her for years to come when she will grow as an independent woman in a society that is so biased and judgemental about women. That day she went back and wrote in her diary:

A woman never chooses to be a prostitute. She is a woman first before she is anything else!