For a farmer in Yavatmal, Lutyens is just that place in Delhi where Google Maps says "road closed due to dharna." For a techie in Indiranagar, it's that part of Delhi where one month's rent is more than his CTC. For a fisherman in Kochi, Lutyens is just a spelling mistake he autocorrects to "Lutien's".
#Lutyens #Delhi is not a locality. It is a sovereign nation inside a nation. About 3,000 acres designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, a British architect hired to build an imperial capital that would last a thousand years. He designed wide roads so that viceroys could see revolts coming from far. He did not imagine that one day the most vocal critics of imperialism would live in his bungalows and write 1200-word columns against imperialism from imperial lawns.
There are roughly 1000 bungalows. Each bungalow is bigger than the panchayat office, primary school, ration shop and PHC of an average Indian village combined. Each bungalow has a Type VII building, Type VIII garden, Type IX entitlement and Type XI sense of entitlement. The house is allotted by the Government of India, maintained free by CPWD, painted free every year, guarded by Delhi Police, garden maintained by 4 malis, but the occupant will write a passionate op-ed on how India must end VIP culture.
The residents are called Lutyens' people. They don't live in Delhi, they inhabit it. Like a species that found a perfect ecosystem and never left. Their Aadhaar may say Delhi, but their mental address is somewhere between London School of Economics and Khan Market.
Their life cycle is fixed and beautifully choreographed. Children born in Sir Ganga Ram Hospital, schooling in American Embassy School or Sardar Patel Vidyalaya, college in St Stephen's, Masters in JNU or Oxford on a government scholarship meant for marginalized students, internship at an NGO on Shahjahan Road with a name like Centre for Equity and Justice, first job as "young leader" at a think tank funded by Ford Foundation, first book launch at India International Centre, and then lifetime employment as expert on everything Indian without ever traveling in Indian Railways general compartment or eating at a dhaba without doing a story on it.
Their day is ritualistic. Morning starts with The Hindu editorial page and a deep frown that India is not what it should be. By 11 am they are at Khan Market buying imported cheese worth Rs 1800 and complaining about rising inequality in India. Afternoon is a closed-door briefing where a former bureaucrat explains why India is failing. Evening is a panel discussion at Habitat Centre on "Is India Intolerant?" with the same five panelists who have been discussing the same question since 2004, with the same answer.
Night ends with a tweet about the death of democracy typed from a lawn that has more staff than the staff quarters of ISRO. The tweet gets 200 likes from the same 200 people who live within 2 km radius. That is called national discourse.
Their economics is fascinating and should be taught at LSE. Inflation for them is not onion at Rs 70. For them onion is not a vegetable, it is a metaphor for majoritarian fascism. They discovered onion only once in 1980 when #IndiraGandhi used Rs 5/kg onion to win an election. After that they never went to a mandi. Their real inflation is when Sula red moves from Rs 2800 to Rs 3200, or when the Delhi Gymkhana membership waitlist goes from 28 years to 32 years, or when the CPWD takes 48 hours instead of 24 to fix the AC.
Culture is extremely rich, almost UNESCO level. There are clubs for everything. Delhi Gymkhana Club where you wait 30 years for membership but get membership in 30 minutes if you are a former Cabinet Secretary's son-in-law. India International Centre where you wait 10 years to get a table for lunch but you can get a Nobel laureate for dinner if you are willing to clap on cue. India Habitat Centre where you can attend a panel discussion on "Why Dalits are oppressed in Indian villages" where no one on the panel has ever lived in a village after 1975.
Language is their biggest invention, bigger than ISRO's PSLV. They speak English, think in English, dream in English, fight in English, and then translate India for English readers who don't like India. Words like secularism, pluralism, composite culture, idea of India, dissent, fascism are not political principles. They are WiFi passwords at their parties. The more incomprehensible your English, the more authentic Indian you are declared by them.
Their geography is also selective. They know Lodhi Garden better than Lodhi Colony. They know the exact location of every coffee shop in Shahpur Jat, but they think Ballia is in Bihar and Bihar is somewhere near UP which is somewhere near cow belt. For them Bharat is a field trip you do once a year with a photographer to write a poverty story. For Bharat, they are a 9 pm news debate.
The most amazing talent of Lutyens is nostalgia. They miss Nehruvian socialism while living in a bungalow built for British officers who enforced colonialism. They defend poverty from air-conditioned drawing rooms. They demand free speech while ensuring no one outside their 3 km radius ever gets invited to speak. They call the Prime Minister authoritarian, but get offended if their CPWD complaint is not resolved in 24 hours and will call the Secretary directly.
They have a deep sense of public service. They serve the public by telling the public that the public does not know what is good for the public. They love the #Constitution, especially the page where it says government bungalow is a fundamental right.
And the ultimate irony that even Lutyens did not imagine - they claim to speak for India, but India has never been to their home and they have never been to India's home. They live off the state and write against the state. They live off taxpayers and call taxpayers bhakts.
For rest of India, Lutyens is not Delhi. Delhi is Dilshad Garden, Rohini, Laxmi Nagar, Rajouri Garden - where people pay rent, pay electricity bills, and stand in line. Lutyens is just a pincode that has its own country.
What a shame.
