The Delhi Social.

In mid-March, I announced I’d be going to Delhi and invited anyone who wanted to see me there to get in touch. This is a log of that trip. I met close to 40 people, some social media contacts, some old friends, some business connects, some professional acquaintances, some potential clients, and some long-lost friends who I discovered were better off lost! This is an account of that trip through a collection of all my Facebook posts during it.

04 April 2023. 0336h IST. At Pune International Airport.

Nanga hi to aayaa hai, kya ghanta lekar jayega.

Keys, Kindle, laptop, charging cables, auxiliary battery, camera, spare battery, charging blocks, watch, belt, jacket, boots, belt, cap, credit cards (yes, these beeped in my pockets and I had to go back, place them in the tray and come back), spectacles, sunglasses, selfie sticks, and some other stuff I can’t remember…all of it has to be removed, placed on seperate trays (the bag carrying all of this is seperately placed), and then like a true Muslim would walk towards his Allah on the day of Qayamat, to be judged and sentenced, I must walk through the metal detector security gate towards the CISF man with his magic wand, where he shall decide if I pass to Jannat or descend to the depths of Jahannum (i.e., go back to the Xray machine, place the offending article in a plastic tray, and get back in the serpentine queue that awaits judgement, each one in trepidation of what fate awaits them and whether they shall pass the test of purity.

Sigh! My children will never know the joys of flying, when you could walk up (even drive, in smaller aerodromes) to the aircraft to see people off and be treated like royalty.

And this humiliation is apart from the exorbitant costs of the ticket, the lack of any F&B service included on board, with even the ‘Have a nice flight’ said by everyone, from the check-in counter person to the airline security who checks your boarding pass at the gate dispensed with, indeed even the process of check-in automated, the forcible selling of seats (I come from a time when the check-in counter staff would smile and ask, ‘Window or Aisle?’), the doing away with the ‘Fragile’ stickers (‘We don’t do that anymore.’), the reduction in leg space, and the complete takeover by private entities who give zero fucks about the traveller because they are monopolies has made flying not just an unpleasant, but decidedly painful experience.

So much for ‘Hawai safar for those who wear hawai chappals.’ Everything nowadays is a jumla. I feel so sad looking at the state of aviation today, not from the government’s or airlines’ or ground operators’ point of view, but the hapless passengers who will never know the joy of air travel like we 70s kids did.

RIP, style. RIP, air travel.

Later edit: The government blames terrorism for this. What is their solution? Can I avoid this? Of course, the Americans have a ready system for this (which I won’t be surprised if it is implemented by India soon): The Trusted Traveller Program. In this, you are ‘pre-cleared’ and can get through security faster. For a price. Which includes not just money, but a complete sacrifice of your privacy. This whole thing is like extortion: You appear nude in front of us and we’ll save you from being forced to go nude (by us!), and you pay us for that privilege. Wah! What an idea, Sirji. Having said that, to give the devil his due, this was originally thought of by Gabbar Singh who claimed to provide protection to Ramgarh residents from the marauding band of dacoits of which he was the leader. What a fucking scam.

Even later edit: What is all this nonsense about photography not allowed here and cameras not allowed there. Dudes, I can get the complete internal layout of this airport and the latest high-definition satellite photographs without having to even open my camera app. Which century is this government living in?

 

04 April 2023. 0752h IST. At RK Puram, Delhi.

Quo vadis?

Why do all vehicles, including public transport and private cars, look so dilapidated and run down? I remember reading somewhere that Delhi itself looks like it has seen better days. Not really the vision of the shiny capital of New India that the current regime wants to portray.

Here’s someone who came to say hello at a signal. This is representative of, at the same time, the kind of old India foreigners think of (cows on the streets) and the new one that the Modi sarkar evangelises (Gaumata roaming free).

Maybe the Gaumata wanted to ask me, and perhaps the entire nation: Quo vadis?

 

04 April 2023. 1053h IST. At The Lodhi, New Delhi.

My weakness.

Whenever I am photographed with and by a beautiful woman, my bald pate shows, and I have to crop the photo to hide it. So, here I am, being treated to coffee at the rather swanky The Lodhi in Delhi by someone who has turned from an online acquaintance to (hopefully) an offline friend. Cheers!

 

04 April 2023. 2058h IST. At Downtown – 29, Gurugram.

Beer and banter in the basement.

Dil lena khel hai dildaar ka
Bhoole se naam na lo pyaar ka
Pyaar bhi jhootha
Yaar bhi jhootha
Dekho mujhko dilwalon
Khaayaa hai dhokha maine
Pyaar kaaaaa

Doesn’t Monami have such stunningly beautiful eyes? And doesn’t Deepak have the most gorgeous shock of salt & pepper hair? Ain’t I lucky to have such good-looking friends!

Well, it was a जहां चार यार मिल जाए… type of party this afternoon, with 7 litres of beer, seekh kababs, pizza, hummus, and honey chilli potato to help down the brewsky. Or rather, it would have been were we four friends. But three would have to do. We still need a D’Artagnan. Or am I mixing up stories now?

 

05 April 2023. 1231h IST. At Greater Kailash II, New Delhi.

People on SM v/s IRL

To all those who want to ask what’s the one thing I learn by meeting my online friends IRL, here’s the answer: IRL people are so much better.

They are far better behaved, they are way more friendly, they are infinitely politer.

None of this must come as a surprise to most. People are not necessarily nicer when they meet, you’d say. They are just nastier when behind a keyboard and hidden by the Internet, even if not anonymised. That’s why the contrast shows. But it isn’t a surprise. That’s just human nature. I’d agree.

But you aren’t prepared for my next revelation: Despite the popular perception that people use filters, take multiple photographs before choosing one to post, and carefully curate their physical image online, the truth is that people (or at least all those I had ever converted from online to offline in my life, starting from 1992/93, when there was no internet but only BBSs) are so much better looking, sexier, prettier, cuter, and physically attractive, apart from being all-around more interesting in real life than they are, or even hope to be, on social media.

So, here’s my advice: Go out and meet people. In real life. Face to face. Within touching distance. From across a table. Over a drink. And talk. And be prepared to be pleasantly surprised.

You are welcome.

P.S.: That does not mean it is a rule that applies 100% of the time. I, for example, am a pleasant-looking man on social media, because I am a narcissist and vain as fuck. But in real life, where I live the shallow life, trying to live out my next fifty years of my life with some semblance of self-esteem, I come across as a balding, paunchy, middle-aged uncle who writes too much on a platform the young have abandoned for over a decade now. So, there’s that.

 

05 April 2023. 1338h IST. Olive Bar & Kitchen, The Qutub, Mehrauli.

So so so excited to meet and convert another friend from online to offline. Welcome to the tribe, Rock Dawar. What a lovely afternoon!

 

06 April 2023. 0156h IST. Romeo Lane Pub. Defence Colony, Delhi.

Delhi nightlife is sad. It’s not even 0200h, and everyone’s closed. 🙁

 

06 April 2023. 2007h IST. Sector 55, Golf Course Road, Gurugram.

And once again, friends that have been converted from online to offline. Also, I have a feeling Anaaira and Kymaia would get along like a house on fire. Should I just get Kym here for a play date, or should I kidnap Anaaira and take her to meet Kym?

 

07 April 2023. 1228h IST. The Blue Tokai, M-Block Market, Greater Kailash II, Delhi.

More friends turning from online to offline with coffee. How many interesting folks have I met in just 4 days! I truly am the luckiest man alive.

 

07 April 2023. 1337h IST. Bengali Market, New Delhi.

Delhi. Sigh!

In a Delhi ‘auto’ with loud high treble Haryanvi songs about some bhabhi-devar being blasted in my ears as I try to hold on to my sanity with suicidal motorcycle riders and homicidal truckers around me, dust flying all over on a Delhi summer’s afternoon with traffic that seems to be something Bengaluru traffic aspires to be one day (bumper to bumper doesn’t begin to describe it), questioning my life choices, and wondering why every Indian and foreign ruler thought governing India from this place is a good idea.

On the other hand, though, I like the internationalism and inclusion in the way Delhi roads are named. I wish we had such names in all cities and towns of India. I mean, where else can you find a Copernicus Marg and a Kwame Nkrumah Marg? This is worth replicating everywhere, not just in India, but worldwide.

 

07 April 2023. 2114h IST. Gulati Restaurant, Pandara Road, New Delhi.

Serendipity.

Even after four days in ‘da Dalhi’ I hadn’t had proper Dilli food, which my friend Deepak Gupta decided to remedy post-haste.

So, off we went to Gulati, which serves (according to Zomato) the city’s best butter chicken, only to realise on reaching that there were 200 others who had the exact same idea on Good Friday evening. And these 200 were apart from 144 people already seated inside, occupying every single table.

Now, we could do one of the following two things: Like a Punekar, accept that this isn’t the hill to die on a few hours before the flight, and find another place to eat, or like a Dilliwaala, find someone who knew someone who knew the owner or manager and get a table out of turn, aka jugaad, Delhi style.

Guess what option was chosen by the true-blue Dilliwaala friend? It seems his daughter designed the Gurgaon outlet of Gulati and therefore, knew the owner, and there was a good chance we’d get to eat that award-winning butter chicken tonight. Problem was, she was in London. Anyway, that’s not an insurmountable obstacle. She was duly called, pulled out of whatever work she was doing, made to call the right peple in India, who then called the right people locally at Pandara Road, who then promptly found a table for us.

A dear friend asked me a couple of days ago, ‘K, do you always get what you want?’ I didn’t answer her then. But what I wanted to say was, ‘Yes. But not because I am a particularly aggressive go-getting hustler but because I have great friends who conspire to get me what I wish for.’

So, here we are, about to dig into the best butter chicken in Delhi. Talk of letting things happen. Serendipity, thou art a faithful lover.

 

07 April 2023. 2156h IST. Out of The Box (OTB), Khan Market, New Delhi.

An unbelievable vibe at the famous Khan Market. What a sendoff! Deepak Gupta and Millie Khanna pulled out all the plugs to make sure I had a grand goodbye.

 

08 April 2023. 0428h IST. Pune International Airport, Pune.

A state of mind.

Went to Delhi to meet social media friends and have some fun.

Got friendship (of course), history, food, wine, romance, perspective, and much love. What a whirlwind tour! Long live Delhi. I realised that Delhi is a state of mind. Thank you for the kindness, hospitality, and love.

Just landed in Pune. Regular programming resumes.