Doctors as Humans
Afew years ago, I was on a return flight from New Delhi to Paris and New York, when the chief flight attendant suddenly broke up the humming silence and asked passengers to ring the call bell if anyone was a doctor.
You know you have reached the hub of students when you see a Sahitya Akademi bookstall in the Metro Station. This is the Vishwavidyalaya station near Delhi University's North Campus, which has several distinct features. A rather unusual sight is the long queue for women, extending all the way to the parking zone. At other stations, male passengers outnumber females. It would certainly make sense to increase the number of check-points for women. At the exit e-rickshaws are lined up in untidy queues. One can share a ride for Rs10 but drivers shout like hawkers to lure passengers, creating quite a public nuisance. Students often joke about the competitiveness of the pullers.
Just a few steps towards the parking lot, one's senses are assailed by vendors of a different kinds. Some have stalls or tables; some spread sheets on the floor. Items being sold range from water, soda, "nimbu banta", snacks, phone accessories, clothes, ornaments, "bhutta" (roasted corn) and "chooran". On one side, posters are being sold, on the other sit an array of cobblers and other service providers. In the small pathway adjacent to the parking lot stand food trucks and juice carts. Quality and hygiene are not assured.
But the mess is not over. Beggars, both handicapped and children, run after commuters demanding (not requesting) money. What starts as a sympathetic look turns into irritation when these children cling, abuse and curse in order to get some money. It's not at all amusing being blackmailed in the name of parents, religion, near and dear ones, or very personal attributes like one's hair or clothes.
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