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Why people love to hate Hauz Khas Village

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Palash Krishna Mehrotra
Palash Krishna MehrotraOct 11, 2015 | 15:40

Why people love to hate Hauz Khas Village

Hauz Khas Village (HKV) is a relatively small stretch of bars and restaurants in a very big city called New Delhi. But the amount of fear, loathing and loyalty it inspires – well, it could be the United States of America, nothing less.

Canadian journalist, Dave Besseling, recently launched an offensive against HKV (in the form of an open letter to HKV regulars) in GQ magazine, which began with two of the simplest words in the English language: "F---you". The "open letter" is one of the worst clichés of column writing; everyone from P Chidambaram to Tavleen Singh has done it. Credit must be given to Dave for exhuming the body and rejuvenating the form.

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The piece is overwritten and crowded with words, as crowded as the village. “In this magic micro-hamlet we would stroll peacefully among the smattering of idiosyncratic antique shops, finding our way to that wonderful restaurant with the superlative appams, the beer in plastic cups and the view of Hauz Khas lake. If we were still able to walk after our gavage of curry and beef fry, we’d stop in at that one rooftop pub for some pints, likely get a bit swervier than was good for us, curse the lack of waiting rickshaws after midnight, but quickly resume appreciation of the quietude, which would sate any of the week’s remaining urban malaise.”

All this was six years ago, when HKV was pristine, virgin and untouched, with a handful of nice restaurants like Satish Warier’s Gunpowder, which served "superlative appams". Then things changed. It always happens. It happens with neighbourhoods, with restaurants and bars, with clothing and shoe brands. It’s the definition of cool. You start small. Everyone wants to feel they were the first to discover it. Just us. Nobody else. Keep the riff-raff out. Once the world finds out, it’s time to move on, find the next hidden gem. Besseling found it somewhere in Bombay.

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Hauz Khas Village has changed, no doubt about it. It’s crowded and rude and casually violent. It wasn’t like this earlier. But to say that it should have remained a hidden secret is being elitist and arrogant. Ask any establishment and they’d say we want more customers, not the same regular faces.

It has become rowdy. The good cool is being pushed out by the bad cool. Bad cool equals black money cool and that is a Delhi malaise. No other city faces this problem. I hardly go to HKV but the last few times I have been there I’ve seen a man banging on the roof of a car, with the girl crying inside the locked car with the windows rolled up. I’ve seen a man with a torn shirt running down the road, mud on his cheek, screaming into his mobile phone.

What does one do with Delhi? These were the same folks (erm maybe their dads) we saw at Rodeo’s in Connaught Place back in the 1990s. And then at Moets in Defence Colony. Then on Mall Mile in Gurgaon. Then the malls in Saket. And now in HKV. Black open-necked shirts. Fancy cars. Liquored-up blotchy eyes. Wads of stapled currency peeking out of their skinny jeans.

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I have this joke about black money in Delhi. Lately, I’ve noticed that ATMs have been closing down in GK 1. My conjecture is that ATMs are not required here anymore. Every time I’m at one, the only other people I see are servants, guards, students, and those who look like they’re in their first jobs. The others don’t need ATMs. They live in a parallel cash economy!

Still, HKV is not that awful. It remains a vibrant place where girls can wear hot pants without being harassed. It’s got a vibrant live music scene, with new bands playing every night. There are poetry readings and photo exhibitions and poetry slams and book launches. There are spaces that are offices by day and turn into clubs at night.

Narnia

Besseling’s secret "Narnia" might have been invaded by the proletarian plebs but this means that more people are being introduced to experiences they might never have had. I’m an optimist. The F-Bar type might by mistake find herself at The Toddy Shop, listening to a reading by the reclusive cult poet Vijay Nambisan, and come away thinking: Hey, a "pome" is better than an A-line skirt. Her inner life would have stepped up a notch.

Another reason that makes HKV special is the people who own these bars, restaurants and cafes. Most of them are young, in their 20s and 30s. Most are dabbling in entrepreneurship for the first time. They are investing clean money in what they soon come to realise is a dirty business.

Harassment

Dirty, for the government makes it so very hard for them to run their establishments. There is constant police harassment. Unnecessary bribes have to be paid. Getting a liquor licence is not a transparent process. Because they don’t come from hardened jewellery store/spare parts shop black money backgrounds, all this is an unpleasant learning experience for them. The work force in these restaurants is transient and fleeting; thefts are committed, and never solved, for the police simply doesn’t give a hoot.

There’s one place though that has become a legend without any of these problems. 4S in Defence Colony is always packed to the rafters. It doesn’t have a bouncer but a genial moustachioed doorman who lights your cigarette and says "Howdy". Somehow, the richie rich problem-mongers never go there. It’s too boring for them. It’s got untrendy bathroom tiles on the walls and prices are reasonable. Maybe that’s the formula to keep trouble out in Delhi: no bouncers, low prices and a lo-fi decor.

Last updated: October 11, 2015 | 15:41
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