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Gurgaon is a process, not a destination. You have to live her, to feel her.
What Dilli is to Dilli Sultanate; Gurgaon is to American Corp. If Lutyens is Amaltas; our Jatland is Kikar. Humble Nehru Park became TDL Biodiversity Park. Fashion street Sarojini Nagar has a new name here; Arjun Marg. From one Ghungroo’s in New Delhi to the innumerable dance floors in Gurgaon, baby we have come a long way!
When I tell people the reason behind my moving to Gurgaon, they cross their brows or show that cleavage between the brows. Simple. I wanted to be close to my gynaecologist. The same tender hands which guided me with my first child had moved to Gurgaon and I needed her again for the other bundle of love living within me. Lock stock and barrel; probably for the first time I called the shots. We moved too! And my man, all fired up (pun intended) and ready to go. And his car? A mobile ashtray, dog-eared library, tangled mobile accessories and the endless story of clutch-brake-accelerator… Ouch!
8 years and on, home is where the hearth is; and Gurgaon is where my heart and hearth are. My crown lost many jewels and changed her shade to grey, my tens in the age unit changed from 3 to 4, my car leapfrogged over the craters of the Gurgaon roads, my son drove me into the depths of the rural limits of Gurgaon, my phone crashed with a zillion ‘home delivery’ numbers, most weekends dissipated at birthday parties, my night light never twinkled in the glitterati of the ‘ladies night’; yet, this is where I belong and forever to stay. Gurgaon is where I have found my tribe – be the way you are, don’t change for the sake of it. From Kashmir to New Delhi and now Gurgaon, I am enacting Act 3 on the stage of my life-play.
My Uncle moved to Gurgaon a year ago, but he is still curiously reading the life of the “idiosyncratic” Gurgaonites. Once he asked me, “Have you bothered to know why doesn’t the grocer stock milk packets of 1 kg?…whereas he will have plenty half kg packets.” I politely said no; least of the things that would be enlisted in a soccer mom’s mind. And I wondered if he has truly retired from the South block business and the wide-road Sarkari colony.
He replied, “Well, the grocer said that because everyone here is for a short stint of professional life, they do not invest in bigger utensils and spaces. They are happy with small vessels, enough to hold half kg milk…” Agghh!! Content. Not sure if that is the correct virtue for Gurgaon, but I have certainly encountered many evolved souls, enriched lives and naturist brigades. Every campaign has a champion. Every issue has a spokesperson. Every debate has ears. And every like-minded tribe has a group. Gurgaon has the strongest virtual community of women. Are these enthusiast brewing from the international exposures or the lack of it, I am not aware; but Gurgaon is a buzzing conundrum of experiments, progressiveness and exposures.
Each condominium has a club and every club has a rate list. Season after season, each club brandishes carnivals and the quintessential Jaipuri block print. And we all flock to queue up for the rebates. Gurgaon loves to shop; albeit our preferences have moved from the now ill-famed MG road to the hand-picked exhibitions. Monochromatic is forever. And linen is chic. For other blooms, please drive to the closest plant nurseries. Plenty around here. Think of any extra-curricular class which your club doesn’t offer or club’s neighbour doesn’t offer.
The answer is none.
Today morning as I drove back from the ashram crossing through the farm fields of Gurgaon, I sense a calmed me and a sorted me. In the multi-ethnicity of Gurgaon, I have found my bubble of happiness.
Gurgaon is a process, not a destination. You have to live her, to feel her. While Delhi has the Capital; Gurgaon has the Guru’s grammar. Technically sound and there.
Image via Unsplash
Entangled in balls of yarn; origins unknown...With a blunt pencil, the quintessential machine and the cacophony; hope to knit a flying carpet and steer the magic carpet around…
Yours truly, Slave Of Words read more...
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I wanted to scream with excitement that my daughter chose to write about her ambition and aspirations over everything else first. To me, this was one of those parenting 'win' moments.
My daughter turned eight years old in January, and among the various gifts she received from friends and family was an absolutely beautiful personal journal for self-growth. A few days ago, she was exploring the pages when she found a section for writing a letter to her future self. She found this intriguing and began jotting down her thoughts animatedly.
My curiosity piqued and she could sense it immediately. She assured me that she would show me the letter soon, and lo behold, she kept her word.
I glanced at her words, expecting to see a mention of her parents in the first sentence. But, to my utter delight, the first thing she had written about was her AMBITION. Yes, the caps here are intentional because I want to scream with excitement that my daughter chose to write about her ambition and aspirations over everything else first. To me, this was one of those parenting ‘win’ moments.
Uorfi Javed has been making waves through social media, and is often the target of trolls. So who and what exactly is this intriguing young woman?
Uorfi Javed (no relation to Javed Akhtar) is a name that crops up in my news feeds every now and again. It is usually because she got trolled for being in some or other ‘daring’ outfit and then posting those images on social media. If I were asked, I would not be able to name a single other reason why she is famous. I am told that she is an actor but I would have no frankly no clue about her body of work (pun wholly unintended).
So is Urfi Javed (or Uorfi Javed as she prefers) famous only for being famous? How does she impact the cause of feminism by permitting herself to be objectified, trolled, reviled?
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