I had a capital birth and beginnings—born in Delhi, very near the Railway Station. It was a metropolitan city, right? But as I said, the house in my janma bhoomi had only dry toilets, and comparatively, the situation in

seemed much better. You fertilized the trees with no need for removal. But we were coming out of British rule, and development took time. By the time I got a chance to visit this house after three decades, it looked almost modern. That is the power of development.

Delhi in those days was a pacifist place. With most people employed in government jobs and residing in the flats I had described, it was almost community living. Camaraderie prevailed everywhere. The Ring Road was a lovely road encircling the city. The city ended with maybe Moti Bagh on one side, Safdarjung Hospital on another, and I don’t recall the other boundaries. Connaught Place was a great hub, and Ramakrishnapuram was just coming up. Just before we left, some multi-storey flats were under construction somewhere near Moti Bagh, I think. Traveling was not difficult with much lesser crowds on the buses. DTC changed to DTU, but I have heard people complaining about the bus services.

Auto-rickshaws were known as scooters and were popular. There were also point-to-point services with 'phut phutis,' as they were called—Bullet Motorcycles with cabins at the back with four seats. I have seen them mostly in the Connaught Place area. When I visited after three decades, it was shocking to find nearly eight people traveling in these. Life was peaceful, no fear, and people were gentle and helpful. After thirty years, Delhi seemed to have undergone a total change.

Although I was in Delhi for the first 12 years of my life, apart from the childhood days, the uncles and aunties, chachas and chachis, the incidents, and the radios I mentioned, other memories are few. Of course, I won’t mention the historical places. What I remember are the much-touted upscale Golcha Theatre in Old Delhi on the narrowest of roads, the peculiarly built Naaz Theatre, Sheila—the first 70mm theatre, the World Trade Fair (I hope I got the name right), where for the first time, I saw a TV, the band that used to play near Connaught Circus, the Ramlila enactment in many localities, the final day Ram Lila celebrations in Ramlila Grounds, the enterprise of Delhi’s small traders making money through more turnover than higher pricing, the simple tented school I studied in, shaking hands with the PM at Republic Day, the PM’s visit to our school, visiting Rashtrapati Bhavan and meeting and shaking hands with the President as part of the scouts team, and waiting near the Ring Road near the house, waving to Queen Elizabeth as she passed in an open car from the airport, waving to all—and the Delhi locust attacks, and Okhla.

Chennai, in contrast, looked almost like a town—a smaller city with heavy concentrations of trade and business in pockets. Life was leisurely. My school was more than ten kilometers away, but I never felt the strain of daily travel. There were very few cars and other traffic. Many times, my friend and I would walk the distance home. Cycle rickshaws were very common, and we frequently rode in them. Unfortunately, hand-pulled rickshaws could still be found, mainly in the Sowcarpet area, probably due to the very narrow streets there. Though I never liked being pulled by another man, occasionally, I might have been forced. The moment you sat, the rickshaw puller would lift the front to almost about his shoulder, and the entire cab would lean back, making the passenger sit at an angle. I am very glad these have been replaced by auto-rickshaws. Over time, I’ve seen many rickshaw pullers driving auto-rickshaws and even thriving.

Dhotis were very rare in Delhi, but in Chennai, they abounded, which suited the hot climate too. In the early stages of my career, I saw many people coming to the office in dhotis.

Chennai’s bus services were good, a mixture of private and public transport. Standard 10 and Morris Minor were preferred cars for taxis. Chennai was a very peaceful place and still is. Temples were everywhere, with blaring speakers in the early morning during the Margazhi month, broadcasting devotionals. Small Ganesha temples were abundant everywhere. Smearing ash, sandal, or kumkum was very common, creating a divine atmosphere. Very few girls, if any, could be seen after sunset. Most ladies and girls kept their heads down as they moved. Long-distance travel took a long time with few buses. I’ve never seen the Broadway Bus Stand in a clean condition, but the general atmosphere was of respect, piety, good behavior, and peace. It has grown now by leaps and bounds, but the basic fabric of the people can still be seen.

Next, I will talk about my exposure to Bombay life.

Continued in 114. Metropolitan Melodrama - Part 2