An Outsider In The City
This January, I completed 20 years in Delhi. It was a landmark that I barely noticed myself simply because one gets so caught up with the daily activities of life, especially when one is as old as I am. Yet, its importance was never lost on me. That’s because, even after a mighty two decades, I still feel like an outsider.
A few days back, I finally took up pen and paper to give shape to a personal project that has been within the faintly lighted corners of my heart for a long, long time. I finally decided to bring it out in the open, under the sunlight, so that I mentally process my journey for myself, and in the bargain, perhaps, find kindred spirit who would identify with it. The aim is only to write and perhaps, be read, even if by only one person who has had a story similar to mine.
Part I/ Building A Life in Delhi – The Beginnings
The ways and people of the city I have called home for the past 20 years surprise me ever so often — as if I am still ‘fresh off the boat,’ ready to be startled by the slightest of sounds, barest of sights, most common place movements…
I still remember it so clearly even now. It was a chilly evening of January 5, 2001, when I called up the secretary of my would-be editor at Hindustan Times to find out the status of my transfer from HT Bhopal to Delhi. I didn’t carry a cell phone then (not many did, in fact), and I had been asked to call up the editor’s office at 5 pm to know if the transfer had been approved by the management and the editor.
I had settled near a PCO (short for Public Call Office, for people like my son and his generation who are not likely to know what it was) well before time, with fingers crossed and heart pounding. It was one of the many PCOs at the Chanakya Cinema area where I was ambling aimlessly, or rather enjoying the Delhi winter. In trepidation of what that phone call had in store for me, I had already treated myself to some really unhealthy but extremely tasty chow mein.
Working for a national daily in the nation’s capital was a wish I had nurtured strongly in my heart since college days — strong enough to have refused the offer of a teaching position in Barkatullah University as I had topped in the master’s programme with marks that did not have a precedence! (This sounds so nauseatingly vain! Yet, the truth must be told to highlight the importance of my little wish that I was hoping would be fulfilled that January evening). When I had refused to take up the teaching position, the professors offering it were so shocked and disappointed, they called up my father. He tried to reason (meekly, as he knew the outcome), telling me that a future professorship wasn’t a bad idea and would leave me with lots of time to write… I refused to speak to him for a week and cried buckets… Now, I look back and tell myself: ‘Yes! This is what I was crying buckets for!!’
Well, the most important call was made and I was told I was supposed to join in a week’s time and no later.
And my life changed.
For good or for worse… the jury is still out on that…
Back then, the biggest happiness was that I had landed in the profession where I had always wanted to. I had never harboured dreams of going to Delhi. The dream was always about working at a national daily and building my life as a journalist/ writer. If Delhi weren’t the mecca of journalism in India, I wouldn’t have come here, I would have gone wherever that mecca would have been.
Ever since, whenever I have thought about why I have continued to feel like an outsider in Delhi, I have always known the big difference — I took to Delhi journalism like fish to water, but not to the city. There are several reasons, why.
A big one that I can recall is perhaps the welcome I received at my workplace on Day 1. It is still fresh, again, like many other memories one would rather forget, but one doesn’t! It’s good that these memories don’t faint over the years because they ultimately build you up, make you the person you are.
That’s what I’m going to write on next.
(The image above is of the arches at the Feroze Shah Kotla, the 14th century fortress built by Feroze Shah Tughlaq, the Sultan of Delhi from 1351-1388. It lies on the present-day Bahadur Shah Marg, a stone's throw away from The Times of India office).
