India in general is not just an odd piece of land with sweaty, brown-skinned people who talk in a funny accent. It also doesn't always have snake charmers lurking at all street-corners. Most people are unaware of how the major cities are placed.
Nearly all families belonging to the middle-class tier within the social frame, end up going to public gardens on weekend afternoons so as to frolick about and chomp on home-made Indian dishes wrapped in foil. This is closely followed by a customary tea-drinking session where everyone admires the mighty vacuum flask for being able to bottle up their treasure ever so efficiently.
I watched, transfixed as YouTube loaded the movie, Chashme Buddoor. It is the 80's and these three young men in college, share a measly cigarette in their tiny apartment. Amusement swept across my face, while I observed Farooq Sheikh share a friendly banter with the local paan-wala in the grainy sequence.
There's a scene where Ravi Baswani parks his Enfield motorbike in the Lodhi Gardens' parking area when the girl who he gave a lift, promptly runs off to the arms of her waiting lover. I have lived, breathed and loitered around that area. It hit me vividly as I retraced mental steps back to the day-dreaming young ViKi, how the lush lawns washed with green captured my very fond childhood memories. I can still clearly relive the agony of watching an ice-cream melt into brittle fingers as I sat in the same parking lot, waiting for the heat wave of Delhi to vanish. I have frowned, squinted and lost myself in the green bushes of Lodhi Gardens as my favourite Aunt discussed the latest politics in family circles; while we all sat around on a patterned sheet and picnicked.
A sad ViKi has looked outside the small car's windows as a wonderful day out, came to a slow end.
Chashme Buddoor