I've not had enough of you yet

I do not consider myself a Delhi-ite because I was born in this city; I
am a Delhi-ite because I have lived here for the last 18 years. Eighteen
freakin' years!

I do not love Delhi because I am a Delhi-ite; I love Delhi because even
after those 18 years, it still has the ability to surprise me.

I have seen the city grow, move with the times, in front of me. How the
roads made way for the flyovers and then for the metro rail; how the local
markets shifted to allow construction of multiplexes and shopping malls; how the city spread its arms to let the faraway wilderness like, Dwarka and Rohini, creep in and be its part. I was right here while all this happened.

I love the city for its vivaciousness. The bright pinks and gold of
Karol Bagh; the aroma of Chandni Chowk, which (no denying) is mixed with
the odor of sweat; the lazy corridors of Connaught Place; the
never-ending queues outside cinema halls; the tangy flavors of the
roadside stalls; the loud indecipherable calls of the street vendors;
the shirking breaks of the buses combined with the loud beats of Punjabi
pop music from the flashy cars; the sleepy-eyed school kids at six am;
the wannabes in trendy attire in South Delhi; the sheer size of the city
and the distances that one has to cover every day. I love it all.

Despite the years I have spent here, I discover something new in Delhi
every other week. Be it a heritage cinema hall hidden in the alleys of
the old city or a tranquil little café somewhere between the roads
leading to two five star hotels, there is always something new to
explore. If only one looks.

But I had stopped looking. Just like a long-running relationship that
one starts to take for granted, I have been taking this city for
granted. And just like in a romantic relationship, when I realized that
I may not have the city around me sometime soon, I panicked. I have not
had enough of Delhi, just yet.


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