CONTRAST

 

30th May

Thursday

Coming back from school, sweaty, head heavy, just one of those days that feels like a brick backpack.

I throw my bag, tie my hair up in a claw clip that barely holds anymore, and scroll through news to feel something.

And then I see it —

India’s now the fourth largest economy in the world.

Big headline.

On one side Eros Corporate Towers in Nehru Place,

all glass and suits and overpriced coffee.

On the other hand, slums in the Kalkaji, walls crumbling like promises.

I mean… how is this the same Delhi? Same Pin code but looks as if they are different planets.

Go, a little more.......

You get Greater Kailash: clean lanes, café lights, influencers filming Insta reels.

Then cross over to Sarita Vihar in south

Such a contrasting view: dry, ignored, parts of it look like it’s been hit by a drought and negligence.

And I think,

“What’s the point of becoming a superpower when the power’s out for half the city?”

We upgrade everything — malls, metros, tech parks

but people still gotta wear masks, not for fashion, but for survival.

We chase the “India Shining” narrative

while kids study under dim bulbs on footpaths

and some aunty’s still boiling water twice

‘cause even that might be contaminated.

It’s wild how in this same capital

someone’s sipping sparkling water standing in their air conditioned room in a bungalow of East of Kailash

while two families sleep on the same sidewalk behind a bus stop in nets to avoid mosquito bites.

"Ambition without dignity is just capitalism with glitter."

I dream of Oxford, maybe social services, maybe writing a book someday

but even I gotta ration my dreams.

Like, sure, aim high

but don’t forget to carry water

and maybe pepper spray too

just in case the city’s mood swings again.

I don’t want to be dramatic.

I love this city.

Why can’t dreams and dignity come in the same package?

Why can’t a country’s pride include safe water, fair chances, and cheaper ration?

And it's not just "the system".

Even we the public  ignore, scroll past.

I’ve seen people like they’re allergic to responsibility.

This city doesn’t just contain contrasts...well, it is the contrast.

Yet in this uneven landscape, there's one group I see every single day, often without celebration, often without applause ~ the women.

They walk among noise, neon, and men.

In public transport, shared rickshaws, crowded markets, courtrooms, newsrooms, classrooms.

Sometimes in sneakers, sometimes in sandals, sometimes in silence.

They do not wait for space.

They create it.

No matter how alien the environment, no matter how many side-glances or second-guesses, women in cities

especially in cities like Delhi, hustle through the male-dominated machinery with a grace the world barely understands.

You’ll find them debating policy in press clubs, writing code in glass cubicles, sitting in cabs across the midnight streets, selling vegetables at dawn, and anchoring primetime debates  commanding time, space, and voice in rooms built without them in mind.

They may walk a little faster, clutch their bags tighter, or adjust their tone in board meetings.

But they do not shrink.

They speak when spoken over.

They rise even when routines flatten their feet and self-worth.

They wear discomfort like armor and still manage to smile.

And on most days, they do it without anyone noticing how much it costs.

I’ve lived this alignment.

We are not waiting for space. We’re learning to orbit. To anchor. To align.

And in this moment, when the planets themselves are lining up after ages.

I wonder if the universe is trying to whisper something deeper:

That true development isn’t just rising charts, but elevated people too.

That we must build cities where ambition can breathe freely alongside affordability.

Where women can walk home without rehearsing self-defense in their minds.

I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS BOTH GOES ALONG BUT....

"Everything goes wrong before everything goes right."

AND MAYBE THAT'S TRUE.

I read that line this morning while looking aimlessly through old notes I’d written in my diary years ago. 

I’ve changed. Or maybe I’ve simply peeled off everything that wasn’t me.

The past few years have been… tough in ways I didn’t expect.

But now that I look back, maybe that was the storm before the calm.

The pause before the plot twist.

Because slowly, like pages turning at just the right pace, things have started aligning. 

Sometimes, you need to lose your way to find the story worth writing.

And maybe, everything going wrong… was just life’s way of rewriting me.

Until then

C.P.