The one thing that I learnt whilst living/working in Delhi was that Defcol is a great place to live, Lodhi Gardens a gorgeous place to walk, qawalli night at the Dargah is my favorite thursday night outing with cousin S , Martina was a rockstar hair styist,Wills fashion week is a pain in the ass, nothing compared to chinese food with Dev and our brilliantly hectic pool visits to the farm . Did I say the "one thing"? I obviously meant the gazillion things I learnt and loved. AADI, B-5, talking trees, the roads, the weekend home visits, the Shatabadi, PG, Saroj.....and the autos.
Autos. How many autos denied me a ride across town? Why? Because I wouldn't pay the insane amounts of money they asked for, because I was asking to go from one end of the city to the other, just because they didn't feel like it? How many hours did I spend in the sun BAKING waiting for an auto to take me to my destination even though I was standing opposite an auto stand? Hours (not to mention i had huge bags with me one particular horrendously hot day). They just didn't want to take me. Oh! The arguments over metres and fares and the waiting...I'd have rather walked most of the times.
This I thought was a Delhi phenomena. Mumbai was so much nicer, they put the metre on without so much of a peep (peep peep , don't sleep), took you wherever you wanted, forever available. The dhik chik music, the funky colours, the little light in the autos- bliss!
A year later and I am back in Mumbai eagerly awaiting my happy rides in the autos. It took me a day to get into one, now that there is a car (and brother) to ferry us around. Looking forward to my day in an auto, I walked/semi skipped out of the house- looked around and didnt see my three wheeled chariot anywhere in sight.Ten minutes later, we were off. Little did I know how the day would turn out. I was denied by two autos, told a metre wasnt working then waited on the side of the road for thirty minutes trying to catch a ride home. My half-skip eventually become a near crawl thanks to sticking my hand out for so long and asking the same question fifty times and hearing the same answer ,"Gas nahi hai, madam.". Finally, when we did get an auto, the chap didn't know where four bungalows was. So here we were, in Mumbai- my auto dream shattered, driving aimlessly into the horizon and wondering how we are going to get around tomorrow.
I know it is partially because of the strike but why!! why does it have to be like this?
This post is like a Simpson's episode- it started somewhere and has ended nowhere. D'oh!