From Dilli Billi to Mum-bai? Forget It

<div class="section0"><div class="Normal"><br /><span style="" font-size:="">Next week I''ll leave Delhi, and return to Aamchi Mumbai — just in time for the mango season. Does that make me a Gaya aam, aaya aam? But seriously, can I make a smooth transition? My Mumbai friends tell me, "Forget it! Forget everything about Delhi. No carry-on baggage allowed." OK, here goes.I''ll start by dumping Sheila-ji who looks ‘Dilli'', but is actually elegant ‘Deli''. I''ll switch loyalties to Vilasrao-bhau who styles himself as a Bom-baba, but will always be a Mum-bhai.</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">I''ll forget ‘Scoorty'', its spelling, its meaning and the sentence it can impose on a city. In Mumbai, AK is Aamir Khan , Anil Kumble or even Ash Kakkar. In Delhi AK is only 47. Be warned! There''s a fundamental difference between Mumbai shoot-outs and legitimate power flowing from the barrel of the gunmen assigned to you.</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">Speaking of which, I have to forget about Delhi''s 24x7 obsession with this commodity, and begin to luxuriate again in a 24x7 electric supply. I loved the vast green spaces, the now-flowering trees; I dread the prospect of withering traffic jams instead. But I''ll happily forget about getting lost. Lutyens'' Delhi has no landmarks, only identical walls enclosing identical gardens surrounding identical bungalows. Elsewhere, the uniform CPWD and DDA housing plays the same tricks. And if a terrorist wants to subvert the city, he won''t have to sneak in a load of RDX; he simply has to remove the sign-posts from the traffic islands. Only the dead show you the way in Delhi: the most reliable markers are the tombs.</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">How much did I love thee, Dilli, let me forget the ways. Let me forget the changing seasons, wardrobes, diets and loyalties. Friendships here are like their desert coolers — wholly dependent on power. Byebye-ji, Delhi''s goring bulls and bored cows. Hello, Mumbai''s bulls and bears. Actually, Delhi''s main stock is poultry: chiks, chicks, chikan and the real thing, chicken-wicken. There''s also polltry, where you get egg on your face. </span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">I must forget Punjlish, where the past tense of ‘freak out'' is ‘froke out''. Pity, I will no longer have to meyyar Mrs Nayyar''s pleyyer as she gushes over hubby-ji''s treyyars. But it''s good to know that I''ll be able to order a tenderloin without fear of being served up a Gir cub. In Mumbai, I''ll have to remember that "Karela hai" means "It''s been done", not "It''s a fried Sanjay Kapoor". And that "Left ko daba do" is an innocuous instruction to the cabbie, not a sinister plot to make churan of Yechuri. </span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">Of course, the once clearcut dividing lines between the two capitals of power and glamour have blurred. The turning point came in 2000 when Raian Karanjawala, Mumbai-raised and Delhi-praised, switched the usual venue of his grand birthday bash to his hometown — and brought along the entire Delhi political elite together with its embedded media. The swing factor won; they dropped their snooty disdain and succumbed to gloss. The flitterati too saw the value in schmoozing up to the netarati. Page Three and Page One segued into each other.</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">So I won''t miss my new-old friends since they now all party in Mumbai. And if I want to meet Shah Rukh Khan, I''ll just Jet down to Delhi.</span><br /><span style="" font-size:=""> </span><br /><span style="" font-size:="">****</span><br /><span style="" font-size:="">Alec Smart said: "VAT means Very Agitated Traders." </span><br /><br /><span style="" font-size:="">Erratica and Juggling Act, compilations of best of Erratica and Jugular Vein, now available at leading bookstores. Or log on to www.books.indiatimes.com.</span><br /></div> </div>