Capital Outskirts

This blog was begun in an effort to come to terms with my trysts with Cowbelt and Yuppy Activism.

I floated across the city, now and then, in a way that I now realise all floating people float. Doing the touristy things- tombs, purani dilli, second hand book places, obscure eating places, film screenings, talks after film screenings, plays, the odd social do. It's sort of an un-Lonely-Planet guided tour of the city. Unwritten. Passed on through whispering of cosmopolitan's fantasy folklore.

There are parts of the city that route the cosmopolitan's fantasy-sojourn. And there are parts that do not necessarily. I can't really say how the latter can be dug up in a two-year floating-population stint. The same way a fantasy-tourist in Calcutta goes to Coffee House and Olypub, but will probably hear of Para sexual traditions from a Calcutta native friend.

So I lived here. Mostly a romance-digging cosmopolitan. Sometimes snigerring, sometimes traumatised. Chatting the odd Bengali rickshaw-puller in the rain. Or the Bihar/UP idiosyncratic chai lady in the outskirts of the Defence Colony market. Shoving about amidst Jantar Mantar multitudes. Absorbing high culture up at the Attic. Looking for home in CR Park fish markets.

And hardly ever sensing the para stories of Delhi.


Delhi will miss you! :)
John said…
What the hell is para sexual? Kinky shit.
anglophilicbong said…
john, i was expecting my reader to be acclimatised to smatterings of bong clang by now. Para in this case is bong slang for neighbourhood, so much for moral outrage john- what an anticlimax!!!!!!!!!

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