
NEW DELHI: As electioneering heats up in the capital, the markets, with an array of retailers, customers and passersby, all from diverse walks of life, serve as excellent grounds to gauge public sympathies.
Therefore, to tune in to the poll buzz, we hit the streets, venturing into shopping districts to grab a rare glimpse into people’s lives and how they are intertwined with the dynamics of electoral politics, while also stocking up on some street wit sure to tickle your funny bone.
‘Dirty water is good’
Yes, a 40-year-old chemist at Burari did say that. First, he said he had learnt to live with the state of civic amenities in the city. Then, when asked about the quality of potable water in his area, he said it is “dirty”, making it ideal for the body to build immunity. “Dirty water is good... and how would water purifiers sell if residents start receiving clean water from their taps at home?”
‘Bulldozer chala do’
“Quick action is good action.”
A middle-aged storehand at a northwest Delhi retail shop says he had abandoned all hope that anything would change.
“Certain things will remain as it is,” he said, lamenting the garbage situation in Delhi. Then his eyes lit up; “Delhi needs a CM like Yogi Adityanath. Bulldozer chalo do (bring in the bulldozers),” he said, underscoring the need for clearing administrative bottlenecks to fix civic woes.
‘Khandani potholes’
Old Delhi has a charm of its own – with Mughal-era havelis, and narrow lanes lined with shops selling everything under the sun. A group of South Delhi women stand outside a sweet shop, sharing their griefs over Delhi roads with us.
One of them says she has been visiting Old Delhi since childhood, and now, she frequents the place with her daughter. “Some potholes in the bylanes are still there. Now, they feel ‘khandani’ (ancestral),” she said, prompting the ladies to burst out into laughter, a humourous take on a perpetual problem.
‘Bhai, kya bataun...’
A paan vendor at Gole Market in the heart of New Delhi had only one comment (more of a rhetorical musing) to every query we had on the challenges faced by common folk: “Bhai, kya bataun! (What should I tell you!)”
With ten minutes gone and not one concrete answer from the man, the reporter is struck by a revelation – the common man can no longer phrase their grievances; they don’t have words to express the absurd lives they inhabit, eliciting a feeble drone instead: “Bhai, kya bataun!”