Dilli meri Jaan

I MISS DELHI.

I miss it terribly and absolutely. I miss it so much, it hurts. I miss the streets, the people, the food, the weather. (That last one's not really true)

I miss my house in New Friends Colony, where I lived with my flatmate and my servant and my dog. I miss my beer at Ego and the 'Neapolitan'. I miss taking my dog for a run in the park. I miss the Old Monk sessions with my friends. I miss 'War of the DJs'. (Me and my mates would sit down over a couple of bottles of Rum and take turns playing music on the stereo. Each one got four songs. The trick was to finish your turn with either a very slow song or a very fast one, so that the other would have hell in the transition. For example, if you finish with a 'Sex Pistols' number, like "Frigging in the riggin" or 'Anarchy', the next person is right fucked.)

I miss stumbling down to Karims in Nizamuddin at 12 in the night and finding it closed, hurling abuses at the doorman. We would invariably settle with "Naseer Iqbal", the cheaper Mughlai joint. I miss Sheermals and Rogan Josh, washed down with a special Sulaimani Chai.

I miss waking up to "Freebird" blasting from my flatmate's room, early on a Saturday morning, while my dog attempts to lick the hide off my face. I miss the saturday morning shopping sprees at INA market. We'd buy everthing in mammoth proportions, as if we were catering to an army on the move. 6 kilos of chicken, 4 kilos of red snapper, 8 kilos of beef - 4 minced, 4 in cubes, 4 kilos of mutton. Shrimps, lobster almost anything in sight.

Early morning runs in Lodhi Garden. I miss the gaudy yet beautiful punjabi babies. I miss the pushy punjabis. I miss the malicious mallus. I miss the harami haryanavis.

But most of all, I miss the hills. I mean the real hills not the sad excuses we have to make do with in Bangalore. I mean the sort with pine trees and Deodars. The rivers and streams bristling with trout and Mahaseer.

Siiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!