Back in September, I moved to New Delhi. Over these past six months, the weather has gone from sweltering to frigid to—presently—clear skies and a gentle breeze. And with that, the air quality has dramatically improved (in Delhi, that means it’s no longer hazardous like in the winter months, just plain unhealthy). My own feelings towards the city have oscillated between fascination and exasperation—in addition to the absence of fresh air, there’s the relentless honking, the inexplicably high prices, the general brusqueness—and yet, it’s been good to be here. Delhi is steeped in history, and the chaos fuels my writing somehow.
I learned things from my time at The Caravan and was particularly happy to be part of the #metoo issue, the movement only taking off in India towards the end of last year.
Being the capital, Delhi also hosts numerous events—lectures, art shows, special film screenings—throughout the year. In September, the farmer’s march drew over a hundred thousand workers from across the country, and the Queer Pride Parade took place in November, the first one since the Supreme Court’s decision to finally rid the country of Section 377.