Heartless in Delhi

A recent outing with a bunch of friends to a classy G.K.- 1 M-block restaurant was where I crossed the threshold and finally got down to writing this post.

A dear friend’s wife was back in town, owing to the end of her first MBA term, and it was decided to have a get together. Interestingly, unwinding, get together, catching-up, going out, having fun, are all synonymous with heading somewhere where alcohol is served. Don’t quite understand the charade. I don’t drink and maybe, that is why I fail to see the people’s fascination with the drinking binge. Our outing was no different. I digress. I’ll save this topic for another day.

So, it was around 11 when we called for cheque. While we were headed out, the crowd was just trickling in. For most, the night had just begun. Aunties, PYTs, everyone, with the skimpiest of clothes were still roaming the market. While we were saying our good-byes, an Audi pulled over with a driver and 3 entire make-up kits with girls on them – and each one dumb as a dodo. First, they couldn’t open the door lock (or maybe it really is rocket science built into the German automobile). Then, they tried getting down when the car was on the move. They didn’t look Indian as was rightly pointed out by one friend. But, I digress again.

So, we got into our car and were looping the market just when I saw a lump of something move in front of one of the closed shop shutters. It was a frail, old woman trying to use the same dari she was laying on also to cover herself. The glaring spectacle was right there for all to see - swanky cars, decked-up shops and the poor woman amidst all of it. A misfit. It was a testament to the undeniable economic divide, the obvious indifference to the poor’s existence, the devalued human life in saadi dilli – for there lay a dog a few feet from her who had exactly the same things going for him.

I’m sure we’ve all had our share of encounters with the begging kind on Delhi streets and traffic signals where we look away or fold our hands and gesture to them to move on to other cars. It’s not that we don’t want to give but we are too afraid to roll down the window for the Delhi heat might spoil the rich air-conditioned atmosphere we have inside.

This was different. She hadn’t come to us with a half-naked child with a running nose in her hand or with a disfigured limb or any other thing which might disgust anyone. She was just lying there- wriggly and fidgety; too hard not to notice but we still managed to look away. It was probably the mind playing the devil’s advocate – “We work our asses off. We deserve to have fun. We pay our taxes. It’s the government’s job to take care of the downtrodden. We can’t be made to feel nauseous like that.”

But each one of us had just spent a day’s earning for the pretentious food and drinks we had had. The same amount would probably have gotten her through a week if not a month. I was ashamed at how indifferent we have become. The city has robbed us of our blood pumping organ. Heartless, we’ve all become.