What is Delhi’s Favorite Alphabet?

I’ve had this suspicion all along but could never prove it.

It was just a theory until last week when I went out in search of a barber. Oops, ‘Hairstylist’ as I have oft been corrected.

Unlike barbers, hairstylists hold degrees from institutes run by cosmetic companies. Next time you’re getting a trim, just look around, you’ll spot a framed certificate, and if you ask, you’ll also discover it doesn’t belong to the scissor-happy ‘stylist’ having a go on your scalp.

Anyway, back to my theory. I am walking down this road in Amar Colony and I begin to notice the various hair saloon’s (not shops). First in line is ‘TRENDZ’ then ‘MENZ Saloon’, followed by ‘CRAZE Saloon’ and ‘MAX MENZ’.

In between I notice a parked Santro (you guessed right, fully tinted) with a large “DELHI BOYZ” sticker on the back.

Another signboard tied onto the electric pole says “Permanent & Henna TATOOZ”.

By now I am convinced there is something about the alphabet ‘Z’ that fascinates us in Delhi. Maybe it somehow seals the name. Since there are no alphabets beyond ‘Z’, it’s meant as a subliminal invitation to look no further. Whatever the reason, I am beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have named this blog ‘Headrush ARTZ’?

Stuff That

Motorcycles and cars

Drums and cameras – Stuff that!

Painting to be a star

Boy, you’ll go real far – Stuff that!

Lets see those degrees

Tell us about your pedigree – Stuff that!

Be loud, be proud

Gather all that’s around – Stuff that!

Hoard, hoard, hoard and hoard

It’s your only antidote to being bored – Stuff that!

Pleasure, leisure and treasure

Measures if you’re blessed or cursed – Stuff that!

Stuff all that stuff all that stuff

All that stuff

All that stuff

All that stuff

All that stuff

You’ll only get stuck

With all that stuff

THE PARKING GUY

The Parking Guy is king 

With florescent wings

In the M-Block furnace he’s maneuvering

Cars into tiny gaps and corners as the owners 

Begin battling

To save that extra ten Rupees

They find so bloody taxing

“I could give it to that girl begging

Surly she’s more deserving

Though when I saw her last

I kept the note for the parking”

The thing about the Parking Guy

Is that he never asks why

Is it that no one dares

To care about how he makes his living?

Giving most of his earning

To someone used to air-conditioning

Who then gives a share to the MCD as an offering

With his florescent wings he goes about fighting

For a little glance from someone, anyone

Who would recognize him as a human being

If not as their king with florescent wings

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25:40

Blabbermouth

Blabbermouth has a tiny heart

With no room for anything but a word or two

"Me", "I" and "Myself" all stand in a queue

Pushing and pulling at each other to get a better view

I says to Me who repeats it to Myself

“Look at that bloated heart

surely its full of words it can’t tell apart!”

Blabbermouth doesn’t consider others

Couldn’t be bothered when you’re already so many together

Think before you speak?

Keep careful thoughts in the deep?

Let it in and let it out

That’s what Blabbermouth’s about

Just an echo is he

Of whatever he sees

He believes and speaks

Repeats the headlines from the TV

Internet and his colleagues

Blabbermouth rates I as the most intelligent

Me as the most important and

Myself as the future president

Blabbermouth has a tiny mouth-shaped heart

Out

Lets talk about getting out
Out of the system to get into the open
Out in the open to get in some fresh air 
Out here it feels like I should be elsewhere 
This system of getting out is so outlandish I wish 
I was in on something