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It seems as if there is nothing they really want to do, and nothing they won’t do. People are coming out of the club in pairs or in groups.People are coming out of the club in pairs or in groups.After two hours, I dropped the girl at her apartment complex in Munirika and the foreigner in Vasant Vihar.” . Next, the young man emerges from the car with two girls. Speaking in public school English, their talk is sprinkled with words like awesome, yaar, and cool.
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Driver Chand Choudhary, a veteran of Marutis, Ferraris, Porsches, Mercedes-Benzes, BMWs, and Audis, was hired by the cab company in 2010. By the time we crossed Mahipalpur they were exchanging s (hugs). Delhi’s traditional cab culture is one of neighbourhood taxi stands manned by drivers known to the nearby families. “It’s risky to have a single man for stick pick-ups, especially on Fridays. A girl in jeans, tank top and high heels is walking down the road.
Turning towards IIT flyover, Mr Choudhary says, “We’re going to Select Citywalk.” “At 11pm, you get the most stick pickups in the malls of Rajouri Garden, Saket, Vasant Vihar and Gurgaon.” In cabbie speak, the ‘stick pickup’ refers to customers who hail the cab on the road, while the ‘bidding pickup’ means getting a customer who has made a booking through the car company’s call centre. A young woman might think twice before getting cosy with her boyfriend if the driver knows her dad. A queue of Accords, Honda Citys, Hyundai Vernas, Mercedes-Benzes, and Audis is snaking towards to the underground parking. She stops, climbs the pavement, and stands a few feet away from the tree.
By exploring and documenting the streets, buildings, houses, cuisines, traditions and people of Delhi, his work is also an attempt to give the megalopolis an intimate voice, and to capture the passing of time in this otherwise restlessly changing city.
Mayank is also a daily columnist for Hindustan Times newspaper, and the author of ‘Nobody Can Love You More: Life in Delhi’s Red Light District’ (published by Penguin) and the four-volume ‘The Delhi Walla’ guidebooks (Harper Collins).
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“After that, we get busy with airport drop-offs and pick-ups, which goes on till morning.” To Gurgaon, now. Their lobbies are empty save for receptionists watching TV. Meanwhile a girl in shorts and top, accompanied by a boy in jeans and T-shirt, enters the mall. A cat rearranges itself the niche of a Mughal arch.
A policeman stops us at a barricade on Rao Tularam Marg, near Malai Mandir, but waves us on the next moment. A Boeing is taking off on the airport’s runway, to the right of the highway. Choudhary stops at a petrol station beside the Radisson Hotel. Grim-looking children are beating eggs in steel glasses. “They must be call centre employees,” says Mr Chowdhury. As we reach Aurobindo Marg, Mr Choudhury gets a bid for an airport drop from Green Park. In another hour, the birds will start their morning chorus but for now the city seems at rest.
The street is jammed with cars filled with people who have booked tables in the area’s various restaurants. Our car finally manages to speed towards Aurobindo Marg.