Finding My Feet in Delhi 6

I didn’t come to Delhi to be a historian. I left Calcutta to find a job. My journalistic journey had brought me to India’s capital. 

It was a difficult decision, but a quick one—I needed a job to survive. And so, from my residence on Idgah Road, my quest began.

The initial days were tough. I woke up to a dialect that Bollywood has now popularized, but hearing children, fathers, and friends exchange expletives early in the morning was a shock. At first, those words petrified me. Coming from a city known for its rich cultural refinement, I felt slightly dejected.

But soon, someone explained that the people of Quraish Nagar were not as coarse as outsiders assumed. The expletives were simply part of daily life. “Don’t take it seriously,” a well-wisher advised. Gradually, the Purana Dilli dialect—and even the occasional swear word—became part of my world. I realized it was neither obscene nor abusive in the way locals used it; it was just their rhythm, their way of expressing themselves.

My daily routine soon fell into a pattern. A walk down to the Sadar Thana rickshaw stand, then onward to the Paharganj bus stand. I preferred the DTC buses—they didn’t stop unnecessarily and reached Barakhamba in record time. From there, I navigated the media offices at Barakhamba, KG Marg, and ITO, becoming increasingly familiar with the pulse of the city.