Odd vs Even - Delhi vs Change

We’re a nation of sentimental polythene romancers and fancy sticker hoarders. And we love it – we flaunt it. We never remove the polythene from our televisions, laptops, car seats, cushions, sofas, phones - Ironically, we never slip on the polythene when it’s crucial and the result is 1.3 billion marriage junkies.

We’ve this incurable inbuilt inferiority complex that we must prove at the drop of a hat that we’ve arrived - Monetarily, of course.

We’re always going to Mussourie in a Volvo (never in just a bus), to Jaipur in Shatabdi (never in just a train), flying to Bombay (never simply going to Bombay) and deliberately forget to take those airport tags off even if they read – Kingfisher – a company now defunct for over three years. My iPhone is dead (never just my phone is dead), I forgot to wear my Rado (never simply forgot to wear my watch) dude, my Audi got scratched (never just my car got scratched), my house in GK 1 (when the house is clearly your parents’ & nobody asked where your parents’ house is).

Fact check one: Ten years ago when I returned to India from the land of Kangaroos, I didn’t own a car and neither did anyone in my age group. Now all of them do and I still don’t. And I never will – that’s my pledge to myself. I’ve lived for 30-odd years on this earth and traveled like crazy and lived across Australia for years and I never needed a damn car. Like the inimitable Sheldon Cooper, I gave learning-to-drive a royal miss.

The benefits of not driving - I’ve never run over a seven-year-old girl crossing the road with an ice-cream cone or got caught jumping a red light or polluted the city or ever screamed “fuck, not again” when I returned to the parking to see my car’s bumper all smashed up.

Fact check two: Girls love blokes with cars & guitars. Not having a car is a curse and destroys the possibilities of getting laid by 97.7% - I know, I have suffered – still do. And in Great Delhi, people rather be caught in bed with their blood sister/brother than be caught travelling in a DTC bus.

It’s all because of that one rich people's word I’ve truly come to detest – Entitlement. Like these people's balls are made of diamonds. Like their women ovulate Tiffany's pearls. 

Public transport is for poor bastards. “I’m a princess born to click selfies. You want me to travel in a bus. Ha! I’d really like to get some of the stuff you’re smoking, chump.”

Well, the princess won’t, but there’s a get-away card for those who’re game. Now, if you get caught in a DTC, you can say you’re it doing to save the nation’s capital. It’s your chance to be the next Salman Khan, who after mowing down a bunch of homeless mongrels 13 years ago, has now reached the echelons of Mother Teresa. Hail – Be IngHuman - (g is silent & invisible).

I know smart people are saying that Kejriwal’s shenanigans will reduce pollution by 1%. And instead, he should work on strategies to move to Bharat 6 level fuel - instead of the Bharat 3 we use now. It will reduce vehicular emissions by a stunning 25 times. Fair point – Dear, Intellectuals.

But, like Nolan's Interstellar, Odd-Even is five-dimensional. Pollution perhaps hasn’t reduced - but less congestion, less accidents, less road rage has brought a smile and a ray of hope on everyone’s face. Giving out flowers & asking people to stand with us to dilute not pollute – travel in a bus, not stick your head outta your car to cuss.

It’s the first time the people of Delhi have stood tall. And that's remarkable as till now the only thing Delhi stood tall for is groping breasts of its girls and its girls' Olympian pursuit of rich boys to marry-before-their-breasts-sag.

We can emulate what Manchester United’s supporters did after the match at the home ground - Old Trafford - when the team couldn’t to score against Chelsea and failed to register a win in 8th straight match – their worst form in 25 years. The supporters stood up and applauded wholeheartedly the effort of the team and backed the under-fire coach Louis Van Gaal, when the world expected them to shout curses.

In that moment, I witnessed true love.

I swear to god I don’t like Kejriwal much. I mean the bloke suffers from a chronic foot-in-mouth disorder & goes around calling the prime minister a coward and a psychopath. What a bitch, right. But, my opinion of him means jackshit. And if I can’t respect him for taking a stand & trying to do things that no one else has the balls to, then the problem is in me. He’s flawed like all of us but he’s not a wuss like most of us who crib each time our flight gets delayed. He’s a doer and even if he fails at everything he attempts, he’s a winner by default because he tried when we all sat on our asses talking on phones till we lost the last shred of intelligence.

Hop on a bus or the Metro and take a selfie – laminate the bus tickets and tie them to your hand bags and suitcases – make necklaces of them and flaunt the hell outta them on Instagram.

Fuck the inconvenience – fuck the lack of impact on the pollution – fuck the fear of rubbing shoulders with the poor chaps. The idea is always bigger than the outcome. It’s time we understood that and took our heads outta our asses. Don’t do it for pollution – don’t do it for Delhi – don’t do it for Kejriwal – do it for your beating heart, if you still have one under that Victoria’s Secret bra / Zara sweatshirt.

Kejriwal has inadvertently gone ahead & kick-started the research to cure us of the plague - The Entitlement. And the best we’ve done till date is peed on the municipality walls, thrown rubbish outta our fancy cars & bickered and haggled with the disabled hawker over a 20-buck toy and blown 2000 on coffee at Taj Palace an hour later.

Let's embrace inconvenience and make us a capital of change not rape.