Never did I expect to find someone else in the mirror! It was supposed to be me, with all my dreams, hopes, and vision. The way my muse has taken refuge under the impenetrable blanket of professionalism and "Instructional Designing", the same way my previous self has got lost in the smoke and dust of this city.

I don't remember when was the last time I actually lived my wishes. These days, I simply live, fighting my way through the crowd, through the world, and through life itself.

Crazily though, it seems that Delhi has grown into me, at least to some extent. These days, I buy branded clothes, oh my! I nonchalantly look at children shivering under tattered clothes on the very pavement on which I walk after spending quite an amount of money on a movie and pop corns in a multiplex. I smoke a long, slender, apparently "ultra mild" cigarette. And funnily, when I write these words, I pay more attention to the language and grammar details, instead of the feelings that should have poured in! J

I tell myself, "I too have the right to enjoy life after burning myself at office! What can I alone do about the state of the world? How can I help others? First, I need to help myself." And honestly, I hate it when I say these things to myself.

If you ask me, I am still in love with the person I was. It seems as if it was a different woman. How was she? She was clumsy and unprofessional to the core. She would go out with Kajaal dripping from her eyes, with a loose side bag, lots of books and papers, and a pen. She would dream of changing the world. She would also dream of buying some books and music CDs whose price tags will make her plan for having a well-salaried job.

Someone had once told her, "I want to earn just that much which allows me to buy books and CDs without checking the price tags." It was her wish too.

What she didn't know is that wishes are followed by more wishes, and more so when you start living in a place like Delhi.

Books and CDs, house on rent, computer, fridge, furniture, washing machine, fancy cell phone, branded products, multiplexes, air travel, car…and the list still goes on.

If you search her bag today, you will probably find a purse fatter than before, a pen drive, some cosmetics, an identity card (as if, she didn't have an identity before! By the way, wasn't that anonymity much better than the card that looks more like a canine tag?), and some papers containing official data. Gone are the books and the pen that was her companion and dream.

Three years down in Delhi. I have the money to buy the books I wanted to have. I don't have the time to read them though! I have a balcony where I can sip my morning cup of coffee. I don't have the time to drink coffee in my balcony. I have a room of my own. I hardly spend the night in the room.

Three years in Delhi. I have a room. I just don't have the view anymore.