Letter to Delhi

Capital Joy, dearest!

And how do we get to know when one becomes a part of us? When I left you last, I was delighted. I returned to known terrains. When I ran to you, I was fascinated. You were like the space, foreboding yet entrancing. I never quite got used to you, cocooned inside the red-bricked campus brimming with extreme intelligentsia. I saw two lives -- one mine, stagnant, and one of those I knew outside the campus -- fast, upwards. Admirable, may be not desirable.

When I was taking the road to the airport last evening, the familiar landscape of millionaire bungalows, luxury living and poor, priceless academia filled me up. The airport was newer only with names, but the gates was to lead to the same skies of sad returns. I sat there, wondering when is it that we begin loving something, someone. One never really knows I guess. 

You are that endless affair for me, dear one. I like the ambition you stir in me, no longer the hopelessness that success cannot come my way. Your beautiful winters, your crazy getaways and your way too many opportunities -- it builds courage. Getting back to my city last night, after a thoroughly illumined landing, thunderous with thoughts, I realized it is not mine. Neither are you.

It is just the way we comb on a given day that gives us a good hair day. Or, a messy, messy one. I wanted to leave you this letter at the airport last evening. And then I got carried away by the various final calls being made for various departures. In a fit I felt like taking a different flight, with a different name on the boarding pass, ready to fly to Jaipur. Jaipur, of all places?

Perhaps that is what you always do. Induce an adventure in me, dear Delhi. Today Jaipur, tomorrow Warsaw, day after Melbourne.

See you!

K.