I was born in the year when my country India was at war with a pesky neighbor. The first lights I saw filtered from the windows tightly covered with newspaper, for an effective black out. The first sounds I heard were the war sirens. The sky split up one night as an alert Indian air force pilot shot and chased a snoopy neighbor. The troublemaker airplane sped to his country with a trail of fire blazing from his rear.

The first air I smelled was heady with the history of Independence. A small city close to a big air base and army barracks which started the first spark of the war of independence.

That raises a question in my mind – what is it that provokes people to rebel? Is it in the genes, in blood, the family, in the race, the changing times? Is it a figment of an idealistic mind, simply an outburst given to low tolerance levels, or is it just a human reaction to global warming?

Most of my suburbian relatives couldn’t find a flaw in the gene pool or the family or blood… yet I stick out of my clan as clearly as a stag horn on a lotus, as ignoble as Medha Patkar is to Gujrat, Syu kyi to Myanamar, and Tasleema to Bangladesh.

So they have deduced that their prodigal daughter is simply suffering from an incurable viral infection called “rebellious with a cause (the virus).”

I think it was in the air where I was born. ‘Barrackpore’ the city where, decades before my birth, hoards of people raised a slogan “Delhi Chalo” (let’s go to Delhi).

“Trouble makers” said the British and thus began the first fight for emancipation. So I am here in Delhi…. Hoping to be emancipated. Hoping to join other people who are striving for emancipation.

I know what you are thinking? “HOW on earth do you propose to be emancipated, by just being in this metropolis?”

Simple – I sincerely believe that if you seriously have a problem then the first thing to do is to raise a voice against it.

If the heart and soul of a country is in its villages then the metro city is its vocal chords… whether you call it the vocal chord or disc(h)ord the idea is same.

That is to raise your voice effectively for your rights… you need to be in the capital. The spark may start from a village or the hills or a jungle or a barrack, but finally you have to take your torches to the roads in the capital.

For a long time Kolkata nee Calcutta, a metro sister of Delhi, wore the crown of being “a metro with a voice”. It isn’t unusual to see at least 2 to 3 red flag marches in the city of joy, everyday, where the roads and quaint podiums become the forums of “rebels with a cause”. Thus people like me with active larynxes and powerful people agendas felt lost in a city, named Delhi, which wore the placard of -- “it didn’t happen since I didn’t see it.”

But some months back there was a surge of several such, fights for rights, right here in Delhi. Considered to be one of the snootiest, prudish, indifferent and thick-skinned cities, Delhi has started to warm up quiet a bit. People took to streets, took out candle marches, and yours truly was not left behind. I have grown to tolerate this city.

After a long slumber once again the slogan “Delhi Chalo” was revived, and Delhi became the pit stop for several missions of vocal chords and dischords. Now I can feel the stirring in the sleeping soul of the metro.

Only this time it’s no longer just “Delhi Chalo”. But “Chalo Delhi”. “Come on Delhi” “Let’s Go Delhi”.

The corridors of power and justice may frown on “trouble makers”. But what the heck, “Let’s go Delhi” …. It’s time Delhi started to solve its own troubles.

Princess Baatcheet