Dilli Wali: Day 115

“Who ever bought these things? Why does this market even exist?”

“You love this place.”

“Right. Like I love you? Spot on.”

A boy was selling mini-hookahs on Janpath. She would’ve hated the whole street for the rest of the day had the boy in tattered clothes not come to her, had he not thrown the artsy specimen right in front of her nose, and had he not said in broken english, “Madam, 200 rupees”. Her heart melted at the sight. She brazenly pushed the boy away and grabbed the hookah, clutched in delight herself, sighing her mighty love out. The boy didn’t know what to feel, stuck between taking offense at being manhandled and the prospect of a seemingly certain sale. He eats his ego, forces a smile, and stands there waiting for the money. I, the only one with nothing important to do in this emotionally charged setting, start to take out my wallet, and stop before it can take a peek at the happening world. “40 rupees”, says the businesswoman, devoid of all excitement from the previous, unfinished moment.

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Dilli Wali: Day 123

"I don't like my parents. They love me too much. It's not healthy. They should treat me badly, they should throw me out of the house."

"They did."

"No, they didn't. Fuck you man I told you I LEFT. Go away, retard."

"Yeah. You had to leave home because they found your cigarette and you wanted to spare them the horror of living with a smoker. It rings true somewhere deep within me, you know it does."

"And yet, truth stays. 1. They were being too irritating. 2. You're right, I didn't want to inflict myself on them."

He knew it was true.

"They're so good, you know, and I don't deserve it. I mean I'm awesome, I give myself that, but I'm insane. I'm a freak rhino."

"That's insanely awesome."

"If only it meant something."

"It does. You're a rhino."

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Dilli Wali: Day 124

All day long, he lugged his ass through roads unknown to man, into gift shops unknown to the spirit of giving. He went through every greeting card ever written and rejected them before his skull read the signals from his eyes. There was nothing in this world worthy of being gifted to the girl he loved. He’d bought a lot of crap though. Mainly in the hope that a theme will emerge as he buys more shit, and partly due to the psychotic fear that someone will buy them off by the time he returns to get it. A gun that lit up with blinding colors and made noises like a kid imitating Rambo grunts. A pair of blue gym gloves that looked badass with the gun, if you looked at them right. A Krrish mask, to cover the eyes in a badass, criminal, non-Krrish way. A couple more guns. A couple more masks, to cover the true superhero identity of the wearer. A metal knuckle, an eye patch, and a huge-ass empty Drawing Sheet that he struggled to fill through the day. With curses, stick figures, and sweet nothings.

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Dilli Wali: Day 185

She was disappointed with herself. It was no one's fault. Not even hers. No, she wouldn't take this lying down. She sped past him and went straight to the Bar, as straight as she could manage. A martini would do. Shaken, not stirred. James Bond would be so proud.

"That man is harassing me! Can you please send some big guys to take care of the matter, please? I think he's a cop."
"Your boyfriend, you mean, ma'am?"
"Yes! My boyfriend! That rascal!", she said with clenched teeth, thumping the table.

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Dilli Wali: Day 186

“You’re really not going to put that out, are you?”
“No.”

He swerved the car for a tight overtake. She kept leaning out the window. Breathing in, breathing out.

“It’s hurting my lungs. You have no right to hurt my lungs. Please go sit on the roof or something.”
“Shut up and drive, I’m doing the best I can.”

She kept lying limply out the window. Watching her cigarette burn furiously in the wind.

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Saali Dilli Wali