my days-1

8Th February

a bright Delhi morning

i rummage through the piles of clothing that i mistakenly believe to be my wardrobe.

search results- nothing to wear.

salman khan would have been happy with the result and the consequences that would have followed.unfortunately, (or rather fortunately) i am 15 kg heavier and out of shape.my emotional repertoire displays the hallmark frown.

in exasperation i wring my hands and close my room door to come up with viable alternatives.
magic!!
my trance is broken even before it's entered.
right before my uncharacteristically focused eyes is a bright purple shirt.
all it needs is a little ironing.

i bribe my flatmate with a "parantha" to have him accompany me to the "iron man"( my apologies to Sardar Patel but i couldn't find a suitable word to describe the character. calling him "press wallah" will only infuriate journo types who can file a lawsuit for defamation,or an inbox full of hate mail, things that the late honorable deputy prime minister would not)...:-)

without further ado i approach this by now controversial figure. without bothering to let go of his one rupee flavoured Pan Masala he asks me to tender exact change "two rupees", or there will be no change in the crumpled destiny of my shirt...as if i were about to use a card or a 1000 rupee note.

15 minutes hence.

i go downstairs and try hauling a rickshaw to reach the metro.
he asks for 15 bucks instead of the usual 10.
i am provoked to explain to him the disastrous consequences this 50% inflation in factor services can have on the economy in general and my balanced budgets in particular.

by a stroke of luck i am prevented .
a car honks loudly to assert its right of way on the single lane.
the rickshaw scurries away.
the next rickshaw wallah is happy with the prescribed 10 rupees.

in the metro...

another lucky day. i get a seat in the university terminal despite managing to get in by seconds only.i notice a girl sitting next to me reading the constitution ( p.m.bakshi, tricolor cover)
i am tempted to ask her something, like article 262 (inter state water disputes) more to strut my knowledge than to test hers.

i look at the floor in preparation.
i notice her strangely pointed shoes.
i change my mind.
:-)

i am no round shoes chauvinist, but there was something extraordinarily in congruent about those shoes in their chosen surroundings.

i reach Rajiv Chowk. the crowd carries me out to the brightness of connaught place. i retreat into Edwin Lutyens dream.