A Goodbye Letter to Gurgaon..!!

Dear Gurgaon,

Finally after three and a half years in your sometimes dusty, sometimes submerged, sometimes boiling, sometimes freezing, always aggressive embrace, I make my move back down south to Bengal…ur..erm… Bangalore (sounds more yoyo. And yoyo is better, as my colleagues have taught me).

Three and a half years is a good bit of time to get to know someone and learn from them. And you are one someone who has a LOT to teach..! Especially to those of us unfortunate enough to be bought up taught to be courteous and polite with everyone.

We started off on the wrong foot. You, the supposedly ultra-high class, brash, unforgiving mega-polis mistress; and me the middle-class, considerate and starry-eyed newbie trying to fit into your way of life. But at the end of our time together, I leave you, I believe, as a better individual. And although that is more a reflection on me rather than you, your role in that evolution is undisputable.

You taught me much. And when I refused to learn, you grabbed me by my neck and yanked me back in line. Er.. wait.. you don’t HAVE lines, or lanes or anything that has to do with order… you are a lawless, money buys all, irreverent……..umm..okay..this letter is starting to go all over the place.. a side effect of driving along your roads…! I apologise! Let me gather my thoughts for a second.

The purpose of my writing this letter to you is to thank you for teaching me a few key lessons. Lessons I will carry with me for life, for better or worse. They are listed below, and in no particular order of significance:

Sometimes you have to be the bigger a**hole:

Being polite and courteous to everyone by nature, this was the toughest and most important lesson you taught me. I not only learnt to be an a**hole, I also learnt how to turn up the a**holism to a higher level, thanks to a regular dose of driving amongst and interacting with the many enlightened beings who occupy your lands. I learnt to be very careful about who I was nice to - the paan chewing driver from Bihar in his battered Indica taxi one day, the smug, suited corporate in his Audi the next -  lest they screwed me over with a smile. For this, I thank you.

A vocabulary rich in incestuous insults:

 While I was quite fluent in South Indian swearing (which by the way gives one an excellent overview of human anatomy), you opened up a whole new dimension of insults, which initially made me cringe, but soon got incorporated into my vocabulary, particularly while driving amongst the a**holes mentioned above. For this, I thank you.

A re-affirmation that little droplets do make an ocean:

An ode to your rains. Enough said. Never will I underestimate a drizzle, and never will I feel comfortable when it rains. For this, I thank you.

Friends help you tolerate any place. Even hell:

During the many days I spent with you, I made friends. Good ones. Friends, who made me forget your vices for a while. Be it a cricket team full of rickety cricketers (me included). Be it colleagues who treat you like family. Be it distant acquaintances who pop up when you are in need and help you out. As someone who does not open up to new people very quickly, you taught me that the more good friends I make, the lesser I’ll feel the problems around me. For this, I thank you.

And perhaps most importantly

Too much of anything too soon, is bad:

Every time I read about you, the picture I got was of a street urchin who one day found a pot of gold. You got too rich, too soon. And as a result you spent like crazy, lost self-control and dived headlong into a consumption cess-pool. You grew a double chin and a potbelly. No problem! A couple of staples here, a nip and tuck there, and you soon hid your ungainly excesses. You got warts, and you got laser surgery. And so the story continues.. The lesson I learnt is that if I get rich overnight, I’d better plan out my life ten years ahead rather than get those farmhouses and Audis. For that, I thank you.

If this sounds more like a rant rather than a goodbye letter, I’m pretty sure you won’t give a damn. But as caustic as I sound, I leave you with more good memories than bad. And that is testament of the fact that despite all your vices, you still have a silver lining somewhere along your silhouette. I loved you in winter, despised you in summer, and just about got through the three days of rain every year.

We may never have met eye to eye, but what started out as awe, shock and helplessness (in that order) eventually evolved into acceptance. So much so that for a few fleeting seconds every other day, during moments which showed what you could be, instead of what you are, I felt proud to say I was, at least in my mind, a “Gurgaonite”. That I won’t ever be filthy rich enough to be one is a topic for another day!

Thank you for the memories Gurgaon!! And if we ever cross paths again, I hope you would have mellowed down with age, and would have finally become the sophisticated, classy and dainty madame you are painted to be..!!

For now, kalti maar raha hoon. GUR riddance to GAON rubbish..!!