Thirteen

740 words

I walked down the large staircase leading under ground to find the metro platform was completely deserted. This could be wrong, said something inside me, but I had followed the Google map directions to the tee. I might as well have been in New York City, and as it happens in the movies, a bum could come out of nowhere, snatch my Ahmed Faraz bag away from me, and leave me shaken. But I was in Delhi, anecdotally much worse, historically much richer, charismatically as charming as NYC albeit in a red sandstone kind of way. A metro rolled in and I got into it while the rest of the people shuffled out. Even the metro was empty save for a few people, one of them a Sardarji, and I relaxed a little.

After a very long time, I had experienced solitude while travelling. It was just me and a Google map direction saved on my phone against the world. The Internet under the ground was choppy, a cloud of nostalgia clouded my other senses, the feeling of dread leaving my body when the metro started rolling out. It reminded me of the woman I used to be, going to different cities all by my lonesome, just because I read about them in a book and saw them on a map. My parents supporting me from another city and asking me about my experiences; what did you see, what did you eat. I have to admit it is not always this romantic, cities, parents, and people are not always kind, but honestly, this happens even when you don’t venture out. So, what’s the harm, really?

Overall, I realised I have lost the ability to romanticise cities that are chaotic, overcrowded, and unclean. Most Indian cities, including my own, are like this. To do something about it, I had made a flyer to advocate for cleanliness and printed it out for the people who live in my building. I gave it to the security guy to distribute it, and they shared it with the residents of another building. What a waste of money, I suppose. What a waste of effort. When I see dirty roads and garbage, I want to throw away whatever I am doing that day and get to cleaning the area. I am more than willing to invest in rubber gloves, a garbage bag, a broom, and whatever else is needed. I am so tired of watching Indians throw garbage, I am willing to fix it myself. I want to get down and plant saplings and trees, and water them. I don’t want to go into the corporate world anymore. I want to go out and fix my sister city (the satellite city I live in is very much clean and organised). It is fantastical and stupid, I know. But given how the rest of the humans behave, I suppose fantastical and stupid is okay.

A whole week (or more) has gone by since I have written here or gone back to my reading or even prioritised on self care. Although travelling by myself is a form of self-care for me. Writing every day isn’t possible unless you do it for a living; life gets in the way. You realise that chores pile up, groceries are running low, someone at work hasn’t managed their time so now you’re working to cover up the time that has been lost. This and that, you know. My horoscope today tells me that today I must focus on what is good, and there is much to be grateful for, I suppose.

With one day left in this writing challenge, even though I wasn’t able to do it every day, I am a little sad. It has been rewarding to write intentionally, because it made me live intentionally. I paid more attention to the days than usual so I could simply write about it. Whether it is how the cracks are forming in the flower bed due to less watering, or that whipping out a ceramide moisturiser is necessary in these winds, or that the hauz in Delhi’s Jama Masjid needs a thorough cleaning, or that even in the harshest of cities, service workers will be kind if you address them by name, or that if horoscope apps partner with period apps and sync the moon cycle with the user’s menstrual cycle, they could totally change the game. Things like that, you know?

Previous Posts
Day Twelve
Day Eleven
Day Ten
Day Nine
Day Eight
Day Seven
Day Six
Day Five
Day Four
Day Three
Day Two
Day One