May, Rickshaws & Dilli

I can barely believe that May is coming to an end: that strange month which is neither spring nor summer yet tries to lay its claim to both, leaves time in suspension, repeatedly insists we grapple with how all is not lost. Besides, I like the hint of possibility that may inherently captures. While I can’t deny that I strive for stability, like we all probably do, the mays of life, the almosts — and my favourite, kaash(کاش/काश), are what give life its flavour. I think that in popular narrative we’re mostly taught to think of the emotions that these words connote as being somewhat regret-oriented, an ode to old haunts. But I disagree. I find them brimming with joys and aches alike; I think they enable, in fact, an anchoring of sorts.

Amongst other things that have been on my mind, and this partially also relates to how time passes and how we literally commute through time, I was reminded of rickshaws through a new Coke Studio song, Blockbuster: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-urTPhh7gNk. The Gharvi Group sings some stanzas, one of which has the line“Ve Baby Riksha Main Kara Liya, Main Tere Valle Aa Raiya/ Baby, I took a rickshaw and I’m coming to you..” A lot of my commute during my college days features rickshaws, and I find my memories speckled with the distinct blue of rickshaw seats. Breathing the Delhi air didn’t seem as much of a punishment, or maybe it was just as bad but I’d simply gotten used to it. Anyhow, when I was in LSR, Uber still hadn’t become a thing and we had the metro, yes, but I’d mostly only travel to places in the vicinity — Nehru Place for rajma chawal & roti with Punjabi kadhi (and the occasional McAloo Tikki but I’m boycotting McDonald’s now, as should you), Amar Colony for momos, chaat and gol gappas (and the rare chocolate fudge at Giani’s that I’d sometimes treat myself to) and the LSR Back Gate for mosambi juice, omelette and maggi which were all mostly rickshaw-accessible. Not auto rickshaws, but the old, traditional kinds. I have such vivid memories of hailing rickshaw rides from either the college gate or Moolchand Station, and of the famous Moolchand parathas too. I eat chicken now, which I would argue is definitely the more superior protein in comparison to paneer, but the paneer parathas at Moolchand surpass even my gymgurl obsessions. The lyrics I quoted earlier are probably referring to an elusive lover and an auto rickshaw, but my rickshaw rides were the old-fashioned ones and almost always food-inspired.

(Sorry for stupid AI-generated image, aur kuch mil nahi raha tha)

I was truly caught by surprise thinking of just how many memories this one reference to  rickshaw in Blockbuster evoked. The world I live in right now is very different, and in several objective ways, many levels-up from my three-year long hostel life. The transportation systems in Japan are some of the best in the world. I can afford food at places that are much fancier. Besides, street food isn’t even that much of a thing here. But these thoughts of my time in Delhi, specifically as a hosteler, fill me with a peculiar longing, a kaash that somehow persists despite me being acutely aware of how I don’t really want to go back to that life and that even if I do, I’d barely be able to adjust.