New Delhi, Capital of India
Delhi has a very particular smell. I get whiffs of it often when I’m not in Delhi and all the time when I am. I can’t explain what it is but it’s a combination of heat, dust, concrete, cold, smoke, freshness and staleness. This is a city of juxtapositions. A city of 25 million, breathing air that is over 15 times the air quality index considered satisfactory. Regardless of whether you live in a closet sized hut or a mansion with a staff of 50, this is something inescapable. The feeling of being in the city is suffocating yet freeing at the same time. Coming from much smaller cities across the nation, Delhi’s wide avenues and large green spaces may seem like a blessing however underneath all the space, the city feels stifled, as though everything you see is covered in a thick layer of dust. Considering the pollution here, that’s pretty accurate. From plants to buildings to roads to buildings, everything looks as though it’s been whitewashed in dust.
It may seem that I’m incredible anti this city, which I may be due to not having enjoyed my three years living there however I spent some of my most formative years in Delhi and felt that those might have been the best years of my life. There is a sense of community and family when you think of Delhi. It represents a semblance of home to me (refer back tohttps://medium.com/the-coffeelicious/home-18c7ef98cc69#.s4cqk9aju for more musings on the idea of home) and is comforting and familiar yet at the same time, the city represents such immense aggression to me that it’s difficult to separate this from it’s brighter identity.
India in general can be seen as highly patriarchal and being such a densely populated and under-educated population; it’s difficult to pin point the root and cause of such misfortune however I believe extreme poverty, abject fundamentalism, the lack of education and history all tie into this story. Delhi may be the most modern city in India but also represents this behaviour unabashedly. The city has immense life and this current runs through it from narrow alleyways to palatial avenues where everything is moving, everything is creating, everything is on fire. This fire translates to an impatience, an insistence on stepping on everyone else’s feet and a feeling of complete insignificance in the turmoil and lawlessness. It really is like the Wild West.
Amidst the chaos there seems to be some kind of order, something that is precariously holding on to ensure that life doesn’t fall into disrepair. There is a sort of charm in this place, something vibrantly Punjabi where no one will hesitate to honk a horn or throw a profanity your way. You will find some of the best food in the world, the most stunning architecture and a truly elaborate system of politics that somehow keeps the city running. However, the more you see the harder it is to avoid the nagging suspicion that something isn’t right here. It’s uncomfortable and dangerous, and that’s an extremely privileged view to say the least. I’m not sure what I’m trying to put forward but being objective is something I really pride myself on and although I’m trying to work with pros and cons here; the cons simply outweigh anything else.