See, I don’t really feel that Delhi is rude. It’s just passionate. Passionately arguing, cursing, party-shartying, foodie-ing, hustling, protesting, shopping, bargaining, adjusting, loving, helping, donating, feeding and most importantly, soldiering on. As the city of dreams for the larger part of north India, Delhi absorbs you, in its own prickly hospitality.

Before I landed, I had heard a lot about the capital. The people – rude, the air – toxic. Yet, twenty minutes after being carried to the Rajdhani by the Rajdhani, I was already at The Rajiv Chowk Metro Station. Everyone walked busy, dressed sharp, looking important. It felt like I was in New York. Made sense if Mumbai would be L.A. and Kolkata can well, aspire to be London.

The city is as diverse as the people it nurses. During my stay there, I could make out three rough segments of the city.

The Sarkaari

The clean wide roads, komorebi, beautiful boulevards with golden sunshine in the day and amber lighting in the night, red sandstone structures, absence of multi-stories, lush gardens colorful flowers, CRPF checkpoints and touristy beings.

The Business Class

Posh neighborhoods. Buildings like Tetris blocks with clean glass and wooden facades, fans-and-ferns on the balcony, sunlight is a luxury, dog walkers with exotic breeds (only) strolling on what little space the jet-black SUVs have excused, small patches of greens in the gated neighborhood where the sun seldom shines. It’s rather peaceful since people talk in whispers.

A bit of a blanket statement

The naukri, chaakri – suburbs. This is what looks like noise on the satellite imagery. Buildings huddled together, holding their shoulders close, often overlapping each other, hundreds of overhead wires blocking whatever sunlight filters down to the streets. The streets that are forever damp and dark. You look down and find confetti! Look closer. It’s either Vimal or Kamla Pasand or Pulse. Buzzing with broadcasts of television or private family feuds. Right on the edges, you’d easily find slums and small dump yards or an unapologetic mix of both.

Having left the city, it’s not like I miss Delhi every day. My lungs thank me with every single breath. However, there are certain things that Delhi just does the best. There hasn’t been any single weekend when we were out of options for places to go or restaurants to try out. When it comes to food, the veg-nonveg mix and specially chaat, Delhi is unparalleled. The public transport is massively underrated and pocket friendly. Positioned close to the erstwhile silk route, Indraprastha is one of the best places to buy. From mall-only deals to flea market steals, you’ll find it all. I do plan to return to Delhi time to time just for the shopping-amusement experience it has to offer or better even, just to joyride around the city on the metro using the card I proudly retain!

Traveling within a city usually tends to become a hassle specially if it’s far distance, you’re an outsider and you’re on a budget. Commuting in the capital was largely a delight thanks to the lovely colorful strands of noodles spread all over and even outside the city. Although the Pink line was close to my heart for more than one reason, I enjoyed the punctual Yellow line too. The older Blue, Red and Yellow routes run Bombardier rolling stock which have a very soothing warm lighting.

What’s more soothing were the dot matrix displays running serif typography. There was something deeply satisfying in watching the beautifully crafted letterforms glide across the displays specially when in comparison to the LCD panels in the more modern Hyundai Rotem rolling stock. Granted the LCD displays are much more functional, in displaying various kinds of information at the same time, being easy to customize and monetized but there is something about the carefully arranged dots in the serif display that just feels welcoming, warm and human.

The soft curves of the serif work better with the Devanagari script and the use of color seems far more deliberate.

Other stations also use the dot-matrix display boards but with Sans Serif blood flowing in them. I’ll leave it to you to decide which one looks better.

The LCD display onboard the newer trains can fit the entire route in one screen however, from far you’d struggle to read it properly.

Regardless of these chotu-motu pangey itthe-otthey, the system is super efficient, regular and well-maintained which easily makes it the backbone of Delhi’s public transportation system. Co-incidentally it has led me down the rabbit hole of well planned and efficient public transportation infrastructure of many other cities which hold enormous potential in moving people, reducing the number of cars on the road.

At the end of September the capital was still warm, a few spells of untimely showers brought down temperatures and brought up mosquito numbers. I didn’t mind much. The clear skies meant that I could watch godly winged whales descend from the heavens every morning one after the other, growing in scale before disappearing into the tree-line. I could, until it all got obscured by the mustard mist. My eyes watered but this usual missing of the whales was interrupted. I found myself in the belly of the pink boa, among the rest of the fodder, undergoing the process of slow yet sure digestion. Making sure to put up a fight, I read and made sufficient marks on my books. To camouflage in here one needs checked formals ironed crisp, backpack on the shoulder, a pair of earbuds— whispering/ screaming/ vomiting news/ episodes/ music, a neck affixed at an angle fixated on the old loyal thumb not weary yet, having swiped away kilometers already.

The city breathes, it gasps, it bends under the constant stress and the strain; the more it gets stretched thin, the more it makes people claw and bite at the rim. The march goes on, with a skip on Saturdays and a drag on Mondays— the boots resonate over chatter.