The city landscape was fast changing. With the slogan of “Green Delhi, Clean Delhi”, the Leela Menon government had acted efficient and quick.
The Delhi metro was operational by the penultimate month of the year 2002. Leela Menon had one more year as the chief minister of Delhi in her first term and she had played the master-stroke. She had ensured Delhi metro had become operational; at least phase 1 was completed. She knew the tricks of the trade. She knew how to keep people in good humour.
The success of Delhi metro was to say the least unimaginable. Mr.E.Sreedharan had doled out a gift to the Delhiites. With the increase in the number of privately owned vehicles, like cars and motorbikes, the traffic congestion and pollution spiralled upwards. Metro had offered the solution: it had eased traffic congestion and reduced the time of travel, at the same time increasing the comfort levels of commuters. No doubt it was a run-away hit.
This was also an important move keeping in mind Delhi Government’s aspirations to bid for the Commonwealth Games to be held in the year 2010, the following year.
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My father had planned an outing the first Sunday of that month. We were to travel in the metro from Kashmere Gate to Rajiv Chowk and back. He had deliberately chosen Rajiv Chowk as the venue so that we could do some shopping at the posh Connaught Place market, dine and return back home.
Karthik’s family was also to accompany us. I baulked. He hesitated. But the financially powerful people had their say. For the first time after my vow of not speaking to him, I had met him outside school. But I had to keep my vow, hence tactfully avoided his company throughout our outing.
That day after shopping, we dined at the Bikanerwala, ordering Chhole bature, with Karthik’s father giving me company. Something was wrong with us, both our parents knew. But what was wrong? Don’t know.
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I was in the practice mode again. The annual Nehru Bal Mela was coming up. I had by now understood the mistake of playing mishra chapu thalam and had focussed myself only with Adi Thalam.
Whatever I did, the result was the same: yet again I had lost in the mridangam competition.
I didn’t know what was happening with me. Perhaps, I will never achieve success in mridangam? Perhaps I will die only fighting and losing battles? Success was not in my destiny, I presumed.
The same old feeling had haunted me again. I was unhappy to feel it but still, I felt lost even before going on-stage to perform. This was for the third consecutive year the same feeling was repeated. From next year onwards, I would not participate in the competition again, I convinced myself.
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I was starting to feel awkward. Feeling lonely in school may be made me depressed. All I knew was I was not well. Something was wrong, what was wrong, I know not.
My class teacher identified my awkwardness, growing more and more each passing day. Finally she concluded my sister to be the chief reason for my depression. I could not convince her otherwise.
I had lost.