"until it felt as if every organ in my body had been preserved in MSG and I can shout- I am a love charger." Naughty. How many do you think caught this?
The thing about large cities is that (unless it is a gormint klonee), there will always be 3 ways to reach your abode, be it Urban Village, Lal Dora, Post lokaltee or gated komuntee - and all 3 will have a garbage dump en route not more than 500 metres away. Sometimes, often, closer. Or there will be a gunda naalaah. And for pet dogs you will despite all this still have to carry poop scoops.
Interestingly. this does not happen in my rural village, nobody carries poop scoops but there is no garbage piled up either.
As for Humayunpur, did you ever walk through the line where it merged into Arjun Nagar?
Beautiful writing as always, AMV. I read the piece with Oppenheimer's haunting soundtrack playing in the background, and it felt somehow perfect. I spent 2 years at an educational institute near Katwaria Sarai (Or Kat-C, as we called it then), so I did go into the neighborhood occasionally. Ditto with Hauz Rani, where one could get a beef biriyani dirt cheap, which was a treat for a student.
Whats haunting is that there are people across these suburban "transit" localities as you say , who are still wandering in search of the unknown and maybe wander forever...
I’m sure there must be a term for when one feels incredible nostalgia for a place he/she’s never been. The longing for times past (even times when you weren’t born) there is a special kind of uniqueness when AMV writes about Nostalgia. It’s not “humara zamane mei” rather it’s more self aware and telling anecdotes with wit and honesty.
I don’t know why but this reminds me of Jay Z’s song Marcy Me from 4:44.
"Indian Habitat Centre for losers"🤣🤣🤣
AMV's writing is getting wittier, deeper, more incisive and insightful. Delightful reading.
Thank you ❤️
Really loved reading this.
"We organised parties under the collective delusion that Old Monk was good rum." Buffalo bhaiyya is going to love this.
We share our common hate for old monk
loved reading this
As a small towner from Pakistan,your writing really inspires me to write and make art.
"until it felt as if every organ in my body had been preserved in MSG and I can shout- I am a love charger." Naughty. How many do you think caught this?
The thing about large cities is that (unless it is a gormint klonee), there will always be 3 ways to reach your abode, be it Urban Village, Lal Dora, Post lokaltee or gated komuntee - and all 3 will have a garbage dump en route not more than 500 metres away. Sometimes, often, closer. Or there will be a gunda naalaah. And for pet dogs you will despite all this still have to carry poop scoops.
Interestingly. this does not happen in my rural village, nobody carries poop scoops but there is no garbage piled up either.
As for Humayunpur, did you ever walk through the line where it merged into Arjun Nagar?
First half of your writing felt like Arundhati Roy's work TBH : )
Beautiful writing as always, AMV. I read the piece with Oppenheimer's haunting soundtrack playing in the background, and it felt somehow perfect. I spent 2 years at an educational institute near Katwaria Sarai (Or Kat-C, as we called it then), so I did go into the neighborhood occasionally. Ditto with Hauz Rani, where one could get a beef biriyani dirt cheap, which was a treat for a student.
"museums of waiting" ♥️
Whats haunting is that there are people across these suburban "transit" localities as you say , who are still wandering in search of the unknown and maybe wander forever...
Me reading from seelan walls wali barsati in humayupur
I love the “Love Charger” reference. You are theee Love Chaarzerrrr
news flash, as I told you in person yesterday
https://www.outlooktraveller.com/News/delhis-humayunpur-makes-worlds-40-coolest-neighbourhoods-list-for-2026
also really enjoyed this essay, quite funny
I’m sure there must be a term for when one feels incredible nostalgia for a place he/she’s never been. The longing for times past (even times when you weren’t born) there is a special kind of uniqueness when AMV writes about Nostalgia. It’s not “humara zamane mei” rather it’s more self aware and telling anecdotes with wit and honesty.
I don’t know why but this reminds me of Jay Z’s song Marcy Me from 4:44.
loved this!