The Delhi Dislocation

So I am in Delhi. Been here for almost three days and haven't stepped out of the house since. I merely ate, slept, crapped and Netflix and chilled with self. I did take a few work calls but I kept those to minimum. And as a result all the work that I had to do has piled up the way cars stall on a highway after an accident. And because I can see work piled up like a long line of cars stuck on the highway, I dont want to work at all. Am stuck in that vicious circle. And I dont know the way out. 

Anyhow, today I'd had enough of home and I had to step out. The nearest Starbucks -- the place where you can sit for hours and work -- is about 20 KMs away from my place. And though I hate going too far away from home for work, I had no other option. 

Fat forward. I am parked at the Starbucks CP. And I am trying to fix things. And how do I fix things? By writing. The other thing that I typically do to fix things is go for a drive. But then I dont have a vehicle and I am tired of begging from friends. And I can't afford all those self-drive cars. Like they say, #FML. Let me not crib and do the other thing that I dont have to borrow for - write! 

So I am in Delhi and unlike other trips to Delhi, this time I haven't called anyone (called = made an attempt to meet friends et al). I want to be with myself and fix shit in my head. The ones I am meeting are the ones that can't wait - perils of being self-employed.

Thing is, last few months have been crazy (not work wise but emotions wise) and I needed a break from the madness. One option was to take off to an unknown land and meet strangers. I could even go to a familiar place like Panchgani or Goa or something. But then I looked at my bank balance and decided not to. Thus the only place that I could escape to, without spending too much, was Delhi.

However, little did I know that Delhi no longer gives me the peace, the sukoon that I craved for.

I've always known in my head and heart that I may live anywhere in the world, I will always remain a Delhi Boy. And and East Delhi Boy at that. For things like bhai, feel, bhasad, jugaad et al define me. I am as unpolished as they come - I like to wear socks and chappals, I like to scratch my arms and head at public places, I like lounging on a chair, rather than sitting with my back straight. I am loud. I am a showoff. I like attention. I am embodiment of everything that a Mumbai girl (aka sgMS) hates. And no, I am not apologetic about it. I am proud of my roots. I dont have any deep cultural ties to any religion or a location, except Delhi. Delhi is me, I am Delhi.

I knew I could count on Delhi. Anytime. Everytime I needed a break, I could scoot away to Delhi, meet old friends, get in a car, blare the car music system at are you crazy levels, drive fast, get into petty arguments and yet find the peace of mind. I could go for walks with locals, go to far away malls with friends, even hop to Gurgaon when I wanted to feel good about how I dont do the Delhi-Gurgaon grind anymore.

There was no ailment that a trip to Delhi could not fix. Even the craving for sgMS is a tad less when I know that I am not in a 20 KM radius of her.

However, this trip I realised that in the last few years, between all the Delhi - Mumbai trips I've severed my ties with Delhi (the bonds with Mumbai are shaky at best). The friends are still around, things are still the same, there is that familiarity with the place but I no longer get peace here. I am as restless as I am in Mumbai. I continue to get those cravings to search for that promised land where weather is perfect, things are the way I want, and I have a life of abundance.

Couple this with my permanent bone against the Bandra house.

Thing is, I am finally rootless. I dont know where to go, where to sleep, where to go to find peace. I am lost. And I dont know where is home. And I dont know what to do about it.

May be home is between soft, white, cold sheets of a hotel where the AC is always at a perfect 22 degrees. I love the feeling of being in perpetual motion. I love airports more than I love home. In fact, when I worked for Gravity, the best bit was all the airports and hotel rooms that I was supposed to live out of. I loved the muted opulence and pseudo-luxury. I loved the distance that the staff maintained while I was there. I liked how at a press of a button, things magically appear. May be, next time I need a break, I'd book myself into a 5-star and switch off my phone! May be. I shall try next time.

P.S.: Of course I need money to be able to afford a lifestyle like that. And by God, I will.

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