As our plane landed on the runway at Delhi airport, cutting through the thick veil of smog, it felt like the pilot had extraordinary vision. Once the doors of the aircraft were opened people started coughing. The air quality outside was ‘dangerous’, showed an app on my phone.
I chose to avoid the warning and started walking towards the bus which had come to collect us. The air was dense, and my lungs were working overtime. It was as if a lead demon was sitting on the lungs and suffocating them under its weight.
I coaxed my lungs to work, promising them an extra dose of Cubbon Park fresh air once back in Bengaluru.
The heart was happy because the cold felt good. There are few cities in India where you get a taste of frosty winter and there is so much to explore in Delhi this time of the year.
The streets were filled with people in their colorful winter clothes and stalls were selling hot street food.
We stopped by a stall that sold aloo tikki with a sweet and spicy chutney. Walking in the cold means your body needs a lot of calories, so we hopped on from an aloo tikki stall to the one selling pani puri to another dishing out piping hot chole bhature and Delhi’s famous rolls. We topped it up with cups of steaming ginger chai.
The city’s charm takes over you and you are ready to overlook the pitfalls of pollution, albeit with red eyes.
If you have been raised in Europe with squeaky clean air, you are better off skipping Delhi this time of the year, since your lungs aren’t as “strong” as ours. We take pride in the ability of our bodies to put up with the dust and pollution. During COVID-19 pandemic, many experts argued that Indians had a lot of exposure to foreign bodies, so our natural immunity was higher.
Over time the people of Delhi will evolve differently from the rest of the world; they will grow an extra pair of cleaning organs which will keep all the smoke and dust out. Or they could choose to move out and not live in this dangerous air.
I wouldn’t, because we all fall in love with our cities. We have roots and connections in a city. The city becomes an essential part of our existence. It defines us.
Delhi people are easily identifiable. They is a strange combination of warmth, hospitality, and vanity in them. “Are you from Delhi?” is considered both a compliment and an insult.
But beyond people who have choice and privilege are the those you see at the traffic signals – inadequately dressed children, transgender persons, and old women begging for money. They do not have the choice over where they live, the clothes they wear, and the quality of the air they breathe.
The cold and the pollution is like the kiss of death for them.
Every winter it is the same story. Who should be blamed for the worsening air quality? They blame it on the stubble burning, the construction work in Delhi, the State government, or the Central government. Nothing changes, or nothing changes significantly.
But come winter, the people of Delhi forget their woes. They settle down with a drink and warm food. They dress up in fashionable clothes and carry on as if nothing was amiss.
As an outsider you join the show as you do not want to stick out like a sore thumb, making a fuss about the pollution and saying that you have better air back in your city. You play along, dressed in your trench coats and boots, hopping from one street to another while relishing street food and endless cups of tea. You keep the facade till you are at a traffic signal and a poor child looks you in the eye.
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