Pollution and Delhi

As I drive back from the mountains, rejuvenated and refreshed, my mind goes back to why I made the trip in the first place - I escaped. Escaped for I knew Delhi would become more unliveable for the few days of Diwali.

But I’m feeling good now. The green of the mountains and the blue of the skies does that to you maybe. We’ve made most of the journey already. Just a couple of hours to go now although the remaining distance is just 40 kms. But that’s how cities are I think. It takes you as much time to drive the last 50 kms as it does to make to make the previous 100.

I get closer to the city and see a dense blanket of smoke. I can’t see far into the sky or the fields by the side or even the road. I’m reminded of the article I just read yesterday - “Delhiites bursted crackers wearing masks”. I feel angry, I feel bewildered and in disbelief of what quality of people we are. My mind goes back to a few weeks ago when I was in Greece. On that one drive we made, the entire hill on the side had a net stuck to it at a height so that rocks don’t fall onto the road. Everyone spoke about one another with such trust and compassion. Human life felt valued.

Google Maps buzzes and brings my train of thoughts to a halt. There’s a hefty hour long jam on the highway just outside the city and so it suggests tiny little detours. I remember the detour I had to take while leaving Delhi. Through tiny villages and towns with barely motorable roads, that felt like fun in hindsight. But it feels dangerous now that it’s night. After all, my sisters are with me and we shall be on deserted side detours just outside Delhi. So I head straight into the jam and hope the wait doesn’t last too long.

Cars barely move. A flyover is under construction and has been for quite long. That causes these jams every single day. Dangerous, gigantic metallic beams hang above our heads. On one occasion, sparks fall on the car next to us. We begin getting twitchy and shifty after a while. I try to lighten the mood with a few word games, let’s say related words that don’t start with ‘S’ or ‘T’ I say. The one who makes the least mistakes wins. We play one round but don’t follow up with another. The jam has barely moved. The dust is now almost storm-like. It feels surreal that we’re standing inside this cloud of dust but I tell myself that my car is protecting us, my car is our bubble and that one AC switch that takes air from the inside feels like our lifeline.

More time passes. We have barely moved. My friend keeps checking his phone, the wait gets longer, the red line on the map keeps getting extended. Furious drivers honk for no reason, break their lanes, try the wrong side, two wheelers swarm in midway, I think of ants and how they sneak into every pocket they see. To lighten the mood and distract myself, I put my phone into my phone stand and start playing latest episodes of ‘Little Things’ on Netflix. All of a sudden, my friend and my sisters are glued. Things feel better.

About halfway into one episode, I feel my mouth drying up. And I feel suffocated. I realise my body is feeling as if it hasn’t received enough oxygen. My breathing feels heavy. I’m making a sound while breathing. I take conscious control of my breathing and intently pump a breath in, and then one out. I try to wet my mouth. Taking air from outside or pulling the windows down aren’t options.

We still barely move. But all of a sudden, a miracle occurs. The road opens up. There was no blockade at all. The jam cleared all of a sudden. Why then were we stuck for so long I wonder! Makes no sense. Heck, many things don’t. I move on. My breathing still feels troubled. I want to stop by the side, stand outside and breathe in some fresh air, even if polluted. But the next pile up of cars awaits us. This time it’s for the toll booths. It’s always a pain to enter Delhi because of these fucking toll booths I think. It’s unbelievable how hours-long queues pile up after every long weekend because these bastards want their 35/- each. I think back to the time I reached the booth after a furious wait only to see a notice stuck to the side: “The news that you don’t have to pay toll if the wait is more than 3 minutes is false. Kindly cooperate”. I wonder what if an ambulance gets stuck in this jam. Like we’ve been for the past 3 hours now. But who cares for a human life here?!

After another frustratingly painful wait, we pass the toll booth. Now the road has cleared up again. I stop by the side and come out. Taking deep breaths. I don’t care how polluted it is, I need the air. It feels better but also dirty. Weird combination. I head back into the car, I feel alive again. We continue further. We enter Noida. That’s our first stop, my friend stays there. Thick blankets of smoke cloud the sky. Huge sky-rises tower upon us. Decorative rice lights hang outside many a balcony. What were they celebrating, I wonder! My sister remarks how we can’t see a single star, we just counted several the previous night up in the mountains. We almost smirk at her observation, how can she expect to see stars when we’re thinking about survival! I ask my friend if he’s sure he wants to stay home tonight, I make an offer for him to come to my home in South Delhi instead. But I can’t help fight the rising feeling within if it’s just psychological that my area would be any better. He says: “It won’t be this bad inside my home yaar. I want to lie on my own bed”. We both shut up. We both understand. The smoke is killing all of us but our bed is our bed.

After I drop my friend, my attention turns to our next stop. My sisters’ home. I pretty much race now. The fatigue from the drive, the overbearing smoke is now making me drive like I never do. I feel fidgety. One can barely see a few hundred feet ahead. We come to a red light. Half the vehicles stop but half break the signal and go. This feels abnormal. Delhi was relatively better at obeying traffic laws I felt. But everyone seems restless or maybe my mind tells me so. I think of those apocalyptic Hollywood movies where there’re no people left and you need to survive.

My sister asks me about how no one can do anything about this pollution! I ask her if she saw the photo with mask-wearing Delhiites burning crackers. Then I tell her about a headline I just read about Kejriwal facing flak for holidaying in Dubai while Delhi drowned in smoke. I think about Capt Amarinder Singh’s recent statements that the people of Punjab won’t take Kejriwal’s accusations lying down and that only their stubble burning isn’t causing this epidemic. I think about Arnab’s poll on Republic on whether “Curbing pollution is Anti-Hindu?”. I think about Modi’s most recent speech about “Congress supporting Urban Maoists”. I think about Prayagraj and Ayodhya, Karnavati and Aurangabad. I give up, as usual. No one gives a fuck about us, I tell her. Buy your own peace and get the hell out when you can, I tell her.

As we drive further, more vehicles break the red lights at each signal. I resist. I also enjoy the feeling where I’m the first to stop and others begin stopping behind me. More signals pass by. I keep resisting.

I’ve now dropped my sisters. And I’m heading home finally. Three last signals await me. I stop. I resist. Most others race past. They’re restless. I sense an unusual lawlessness in Delhi tonight. People are fidgety. Or maybe my mind is playing games with me. I reach the second-last signal now. I stop again, I resist. Others pass. Some stop.

I now come to the last signal. I know this has a short wait. I can wait. But I break it. I don’t know why. And it feels like I’ve reclaimed something, it feels like a victory. And I can’t explain why!