Delhi Bombs and Love

This happened. People have died. There aren’t too many ways to understand this, and either way you look at it its despicable. I went to Lajpat Nagar and Sarojini a day after the blasts. Both had excellent security (something that surprised me and pleased me as well), there wasn’t quite as much colour as one expects before Diwali, but the city is remarkably resilient. There are several reasons I dislike Delhi, one of then was a recent incident.While Delhi is a hard place both to live in and to be a stranger too, Delhi has its magical parts. Like being able to buy Salman Rushdie for eighty rupees, getting the most gorgeous Mehendi of your life that you wish would never fade, tastes and smells and sounds that speak of a great deal of colour and zest for life. Delhi’s with all its history and almost everything that one looks for. Music, theatre, museums, bargains and sometimes a rare coming together of people.Only a couple of days post a horrible accident, I am proud of Delhi again. I saw empathy. Its almost wonderful to see how auto drivers and car owners alike rushed to help the bomb victims. A friend of mine who volunteered along with me to donate blood were all smiles back from the donation camp– no it wasn’t the light headed feeling, just the happiness at seeing collective effort and action at so public and collective a tragedy.

Every city has its parts some good, some bad. Some ugly and some memorably beautiful. Its hard to believe that this is the same city where rapes are as commonplace as Saturday night parties. It is. It is Delhi. It is alive and capable of love.