Aye dil hai mushkil jeena yahan, zara hatt k zara bach k ye hai Bombay meri jaan—Majrooh Sultanpuri wrote this to describe the maximum city in 1956. Seven decades later, the sentiment holds true for several Indian cities. The culture shock feels a little too much if you are just settling in a big city.
Life in a metro can drain you. Mine is a Chandigarh to Delhi transition.
Chandigarh offers a better lifestyle, with cleaner air, open spaces, and a sense of community, yet people gravitate toward metros such as Delhi in pursuit of better opportunities—often at the cost of peace of mind. And that’s never compensated for in CTCs. While the national capital boasts about its scale and ambition, Chandigarh thrives in its own ways. Here, life moves at a pace that allows people to live, not just exist.
Moving from Chandigarh to Delhi is more than just an address change; it’s a shift in atmosphere—one that weighs heavy in both literal and metaphorical ways. The culture shock isn’t in the obvious presence of skyscrapers or intimidating infrastructure, but in the people themselves, generally wearing a perpetually grumpy expression, as if smiling might attract GST. Probably, they are happier back in their hometown, assuming they still have a connection with it.
Daring drivers, deadly metro
Delhi wears annoyance as if it’s a built-in personality trait. Take a slow, casual walk while boarding the metro, and you’ll irritate half the crowd, all suffering from an epidemic of rushing syndrome—and still, nobody seems to be on time. Spend an extra couple of minutes getting out of an auto, and the autowalah will immediately snap at you to hurry up. Patience here is a foreign concept.
This exhaustion isn’t just limited to public spaces—it seeps into personal interactions as well. In Chandigarh, a casual “Kiddan?” (which means how are you?) is met with warmth and genuine curiosity, often leading to a heartfelt conversation over a cup of tea. In Delhi, you don’t have the time to ask, and if someone does, it’s purely out of formality. I’m giving all the Chandigarh folks here a warning—don’t go on blabbering about your day because they don’t care at all.
Also read: How do you bring Dostoevsky to Delhi? With Hindi poets and songs, of course
And then there’s commuting, which in Delhi feels less like transportation and more like a daily survival test. Get ready to be treated like a box of parcels. The Delhi Metro, often hailed as a symbol of convenience, is more of an unspoken battleground. The never-ending struggle for seats, the elbows digging into your ribs, and the cold, almost predatory glances when you manage to grab a spot.
Chandigarh might lack a metro, but it also lacks the anxiety that comes with navigating one. We’ve been called the ‘dead city’ and the ‘city that sleeps’, and while there’s no denying that we’re a little laid-back, maybe that’s because we don’t have to travel for hours to reach our offices and we have the privilege to get those extra 10 minutes of sleep.
Roads in the national capital are nothing short of an action thriller movie set. While Punjabis are often stereotyped as hot-headed, even we would bow down to Delhietes when it comes to road rage. Delhiets have aced this sport. The honking is relentless, and the abuses are unique, innovative, and graphic. The sheer daring of some drivers could easily be turned into a reality show episode with more fan-following than Bigg Boss. From lane-cutting battles to parking wars to the endless excruciating jams, they’ve got it all.
Chandigarh may not be vast in size, but even within our limits, we have roads designed with footpaths, cycle tracks, and ample space for cars. We don’t have to constantly squeeze to the side just to walk. Our footpaths are wide, roads wider and we carry a lot of space in our hearts.
Delhi’s grandeur is undeniable. Its heritage, historical sites, and civic structures easily overshadow Chandigarh’s. And though our humble Rock Garden has earned international praise for its recycled and creative art, we still lack the modern-day beetle art that decorates Delhi’s public walls. And with all modesty, while our city doesn’t exactly smell like roses, to say the least, we don’t reek of urine either.
Stress-ridden shoulders, constant competition, and big city hustles seldom feel like a win-win. Chandigarh holds the quiet luxury of breathing a little easier. And honestly, it feels like a real win. Surprise me, Delhi.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)
Lot of people coming to bigger cities or metros for better opportunities. People can praise their own cities when they compare with bigger cities. If you have a choice will you still leave your hometown. Your hometown does not offer that kind of life and facilities to you. We want better life that is the reason we migrate to different places but than we start criticizing bigger cities. How much a city can absorb? Everyone is just using that city for upgrading themselves and in return we are criticizing, not feeling any gratitude. Think…
Living in Chandigarh is a privilege in itself. Very few people can afford it.
The city was created with a grand vision. Unfortunately, it was captured by a group of elite soon enough and these elites made sure that the city remains in their firm grip. As a result, the city is mired in such strict and non-sense laws and zoning that it just cannot grow. The city is in the stranglehold of the rich and connected and they have very successfully ensured that the less privileged are kept out of the city. The underdogs of our society have no place in Chandigarh – the city is just not meant for them.
In so many ways, Chandigarh has been a let-down. The grand vision lies in tatters.
Yes, if you are rich, well-connected and privileged you can call the city home. Unfortunately, if you are an “aam aadmi”, the city is out of bounds for you.