12-10-2026 (The Tenant)

"Being a tenant is not just a status; it is a whole book of experiences. From the mountains to the plains, I have seen many colors of life through this journey of tenancy. In the year 1995, after completing my M.Com, when the 'madness of becoming a journalist' took over my mind, my steps moved toward Delhi. This story is a memoir of that period of intense struggle, of strangers who felt like family in unfamiliar cities, and of the days spent under the guidance of the stalwarts of Garhwali literature. Come, let me take you back to the Delhi of the 90s and into those untold pages of my tenancy..."

The Tenant

Dinesh Kukreti

For most of my life so far, I have lived in the role of a tenant. First with my family, and later alone. At so many different places. From the mountains to the plains. Truly, being a tenant is highly painful, yet for an introvert like me, it can also be quite comforting. Currently, I am a tenant in Dehradun—a gentlemanly and trustworthy tenant with plenty of 'goodwill'. My landlord knows many things about me, and many things he does not. Perhaps he never will. The things he knows are the ones I told him myself, and there was no harm in sharing them. But right now, my days as a tenant in Delhi keep flashing back to me.

The year was 1995. College was complete, meaning I had finished my M.Com, and now, like the dark age of Kalyug, the obsession of becoming a journalist was riding high on my mind. Although my journey in journalism had already begun back in 1990, I was now looking for a permanent footing in it. Time and again, my heart urged me to go to Delhi. It must have been the third week of December. A friend of mine who lived in Delhi had come down to Kotdwar at the time. When we met, during the course of our conversation, he urged me to come to Delhi too. He lived in a rented Janta Flat in Rohini Sector-16. He said there would be no issue regarding accommodation and that he would also have some company. Moreover, if two people stayed together, the burden of expenses would be lighter. I liked the suggestion and promised him that I would reach Delhi on January 20th.

...And I Left Kotdwar

Now, I began hardening my heart to leave home. Soon, the 20th arrived. That morning at ten o'clock, I left for Delhi on a Uttar Pradesh Roadways bus from the Sohrab Gate depot. In the name of luggage, I had one large suitcase and a bag. My clothes and bedding were all packed inside them. I reached Delhi around five in the evening and then boarded a bus heading to Uttam Nagar (it was probably route number 883). By around 6:30 PM, I had reached Rohini Sector-16. Darkness had set in, and cold winds were blowing. The area was just starting to develop back then, so it wasn't crowded either.

There was a barber's shop nearby. Upon inquiring there, I found out that my friend had a day off today and had gone out somewhere in the evening, likely to return in a little while. I had no choice but to wait for him, so at the barber's kind invitation, I sat down inside the shop. In just a short while, three young men arrived there as well. When the barber asked them about my friend, one of them said, "He usually comes back late." Then, turning to me, he said, "Until then, brother, you can stay in our room," and they picked up my suitcase to leave. Without a second thought, I followed them, without knowing who they were, where they belonged, or what they did. To be honest, at that moment, I didn't even have the capacity to make a better decision.

Strangers Became Family, Distances Between Cities Erased

Anyway! Now I was in their room. They had put lentils to cook on the stove. Immediately, one of them quickly began chopping rai (mustard green) vegetables, while another got busy kneading the dough. Along with this, a conversation started. I found out they were residents of Ghaziabad, UP. Uttarakhand had not been formed yet, so Kotdwar was also a part of UP. By this logic, we all belonged to the same province. Suddenly, the distance between Kotdwar and Ghaziabad dissolved, and we became residents of neighboring cities. A sudden warmth entered our bond. There was no sign of my friend, and it was hard to say whether he would return at all that night. It was already nine o'clock. The three brothers were preparing to have dinner. So, they said to me, "Brother! Who knows when he will return, so you go ahead and eat. It would make us happy too."

There was no pretense in their words, and they had prepared the rotis keeping four people in mind. I hadn't eaten anything since morning either, and on top of that, I was completely exhausted. However, like a well-mannered Pahari (mountain-dweller), I politely declined their offer. But they were simple, rustic souls, experts in hospitality. They said, "Brother, are we strangers that you are saying no? We will eat dinner together. And... even if he gets late, there's nothing to worry about. All four of us brothers will spread our beds right here." Now, I was no longer in control of myself, so without giving any answer, I quietly accepted the plate and started eating. Believe me, I felt as if I was getting food after ages. As for the rai vegetable... I don't have words to describe that taste. My worries were largely gone now. It felt like I was among my own people.

Meeting the Friend at 10 PM

Anyway! Around ten o'clock, my friend made his grand entrance. He had probably gotten the news of my arrival from the barber while coming, so he came straight to these brothers' place. However, he had completely forgotten that I had made a commitment to him to reach Delhi on January 20th. It was only after seeing me that he remembered. In those days, mobile phones didn't exist for me to inform him before arriving. Anyway, the night was advancing, and the brothers were also in a hurry to sleep. So, addressing me politely, they said, "Brother! Now you should sleep too, see you in the morning."

Now I was in my friend's room. Whether he had eaten dinner or not, I didn't know. Because when I asked, he claimed he had already eaten before coming. I was feeling very sleepy, so I thought it best to close the matter there. I spread my bedding on the floor and drifted off into the embrace of sleep. The next morning, I woke up late. It was a Sunday, so my friend was probably carefree. But I wasn't. I had to look for work. Therefore, after having breakfast, I started nudging my friend. He assured me, "The work will get sorted in a couple of days, that's it! We just need to keep an eye on the classifieds printed on Tuesdays and Saturdays in the English newspaper."

Received the Badge of Being a Tenant in Delhi

By now, I was starting to feel a bit comfortable, so changing the subject, I casually inquired about the rent and the landlord. My friend informed me that the flat belonged to someone from Himachal Pradesh, who, in a roundabout way, was also related to him. However, since the owner lived outside Delhi, his paternal aunts collected the rent. Currently, the rent was eight hundred rupees a month, so it wasn't going to be much of a burden on us. Thirty years ago, a sum of eight hundred rupees was no small amount, but from my friend’s casual hint about it not being a burden, I understood why he considered it "not a big deal." It was clear that my share in this tenancy was now 400 rupees. In other words, I had finally earned the badge of being a tenant in Delhi, and to maintain it, I needed to find work as soon as possible.

The Job Hunt Begins with the Help of English Newspapers

The next morning, the very first thing I did was buy a copy of The Indian Express. Since it was a Tuesday, the newspaper was bursting with classified advertisements. Both of us began scanning it from top to bottom. We found two or three ads that matched my preference, so holding my file of documents, we set out to try my luck at the respective addresses. Because my friend was with me, I didn't have to wander around lost looking for the company addresses. But alas! Nothing worked out. My friend cheered me up again, saying, "Don't stress, man! Delhi is so huge, we'll look again tomorrow." I nodded in agreement and we headed back to the room. All the way back, he kept explaining the geography of Delhi to me, while I kept responding with simple nods and murmurs. By the time we reached the room, darkness had set in. Anyway, we bought some vegetables and groceries from the nearby Mangal Bazar (Tuesday Market) and immersed ourselves in the ritual of feeding our stomachs.

After having dinner, my friend went straight to bed, but there was no sleep in my eyes. A question kept flashing in my mind over and over: what kind of job does he do that doesn't require him to go to an office? And... if that wasn’t the case, what could be the reason for his not going to work? Could it be that the gentleman didn't have any job at all? If this suspicion turned out to be true, my feet might get uprooted from Delhi even before getting a foothold. But at that moment, nothing could be asked of a sleeping person. I had no choice but to wait until morning.

I woke up early the next morning. Looking outside, Delhi had wrapped itself in a blanket of thick fog. Although I didn't have to go anywhere, I was secretly wishing for the fog to clear. My friend was still snoring away peacefully, but I made no attempt to wake him. Well, by the time the gentleman finally woke up, the weather had cleared up. So, without waiting for an auspicious moment, I fired the question, "Don't you have to go on duty?" My friend replied, "The previous company wasn't to my liking, so I left it. These days, I am doing part-time work in the afternoon. Alongside, my search for a full-time job is also on."

My Friend Was Carrying the Burden of Debt

I didn't stretch the conversation further. After a brief silence, my friend spoke again, "Hey man! Let's go and pay the rent in a little while." "But there's still a week left for the month to end," I said. To this, my friend replied, "I couldn't pay it this month, and last month's rent is also overdue. You must have some money, right?" It was impossible for me to answer "no" to this question. The reason being, it had only been three days since I arrived in Delhi. Obviously, I wouldn't have come empty-handed. So I asked, "How much? Let's just pay the whole amount, man! We'll figure out the rest later," was my friend's reply. Currently, I had no alternative, so I handed over sixteen hundred rupees into his hands.

After having our meal, we set out on foot to pay the rent. His aunt’s family lived in a government colony near Madhuban Chowk. The atmosphere there was quite strange. No one even bothered to ask us for water—leave alone me, not even him. Staying there for even a single moment in such an environment was becoming unbearable for me. Therefore, I gestured to him that we should leave. Even though it was a matter of his extended family, everyone has self-respect. So, he handed over the rent to his aunt, and we took our leave. We bought a newspaper from a stall near the bus stop and walked back home.

Got a Job in a Weekly Newspaper

As soon as we reached the room, the first thing we did was flip through the pages of the newspaper, and by a stroke of luck, we found a place of employment. There was an advertisement for a weekly newspaper run by a company. Since I didn't want to work anywhere else except a newspaper, it felt as if my heart's deepest wish had been granted. The next morning, along with my friend, I was present for the interview at the company's office located near Barafkhana. I met the editor-cum-owner, and the deal was finalized at 1,500 rupees a month. Even for that era, it wasn't a very grand amount, but it gave me the support I needed to plant my feet in Delhi. Therefore, my heart was filled with a sense of satisfaction. My job started from the very next morning, and within a day or two, my friend also managed to secure a spot in a company. Now, we would wake up at four in the morning, and by exactly eight o'clock, we would be completely ready and standing at the bus stop.

Gradually, the Cleverness of Delhi Began Creeping into Me

I had to change three buses to reach the office. The first from Sector-16 to Madhuban Chowk, the second from Madhuban Chowk to Mall Road-Camp, and the third from Camp to Barafkhana. The total fare came to seven rupees. Now, living in Delhi, cleverness was gradually creeping into me as well. Since my route went via Mall Road, which is also the Delhi University route, I started showing myself as a student and began buying a ticket for just one rupee instead of three. I didn't carry a tiffin box, so I was completely carefree on that front. While returning in the evening, I would catch a direct bus to Uttam Nagar, so I would reach Madhuban Chowk for just one rupee. From there, another rupee was spent to reach the room. However, one had to remain a bit alert while traveling in a DTC (Delhi Transport Corporation) bus, because ticket checkers could pop up anywhere unexpectedly.

Had to Face a Fine, Spent the Whole Day Hungry

One day, I too crossed paths with a ticket checker, and I had to suffer a fine of a full twenty rupees. Actually, just like every other day, I had taken a ticket of only one rupee from Madhuban Chowk. But this bus belonged to the DTC, which was stopped by a ticket checker in Jahangirpuri. In an attempt to be clever, I stepped off the bus right in front of the ticket checker so that he would think this was my final destination. But unfortunately, he saw through my situation. When he asked for my ticket, I handed over the one-rupee ticket into his hand. Well! That was it—without saying a word, he issued me a penalty receipt of twenty rupees. That day, I had only twenty rupees in my pocket; imagine what my condition must have been after losing them.

My mood was completely ruined. I canceled my plan to go to the office. There was no point in returning to the room either, because the key was with my friend. So, putting the fine receipt in my pocket, I boarded a Mudrika (Ring Road service) bus. With that penalty receipt, I could travel anywhere in a DTC bus on that day. And that is exactly what I did. I spent the entire day riding the Mudrika buses clockwise and counter-clockwise, roaming around Delhi. There was no question of eating or drinking anything because my pockets were empty. The only benefit of this was that I got to know and understand a lot about Delhi. And... oh yes! I used this same penalty receipt again on the exact same date of the following month, because the name of the month wasn't clearly legible on it.

Meeting Jaypal Da

Slowly, the cart of life began to roll forward. Freelance writing for newspapers and magazines also brought in some money. As my contacts grew, I started visiting the offices of major newspapers—especially the offices of Rashtriya Sahara, Jansatta, Navbharat Times, and Delhi Press. One day, my friend mentioned that he knew a gentleman who was a literary type and had very good connections. He told me the gentleman's name was Jaypal Singh Rawat. He also promised to arrange a meeting with him on Sunday. I too felt there was no harm in meeting him. A verse by Goswami Tulsidas began flashing in my mind—"Who knows in what guise one might encounter the Divine." What happened next was that on Sunday, we turned up at his place located in North Pitampura.

I Was Jaypal Da's Very First Serious Listener

Our very first meeting was so warm that a deep, heartfelt connection was forged between me, Jaypal Da, and his family. During this time, Jaypal Da recited several poems he had written in Garhwali. By a wonderful stroke of coincidence, the credit for being his very first and most serious listener goes to me. Today, he is a renowned Garhwali poet, invited to recite his poetry across various parts of the country. Around that time, I too had started writing in Garhwali, so the signs of our budding, deep friendship began to show. Jaypal Da also assured me that he would introduce me to the legendary Garh-poet Kanhaiya Lal Dandriyal. He respected Dandriyal Ji like a father figure. That night, we returned to our room only after having dinner at his place.

Meeting the Legendary Garh-Poet Kanhaiya Lal Dandriyal

Gradually, I was starting to take a liking to Delhi, but along with it, my struggles began to mount. Back then, the stoves of migrants like us were fueled solely by kerosene, but we now had only enough left to last a day or two. It could only be arranged through the black market, which wasn't possible at the moment. By another twist of fate, Jaypal Da showed up at our room that night out of nowhere. He was in a great mood. When I shared this worry with him, he said, "It will be sorted out, no need to stress." The next day, he arrived with ten liters of kerosene. When I brought up the money, he immediately silenced me. That night, I stayed at his house. Dandriyal Ji happened to visit as well, so I had the good fortune of meeting him too. The literary discussions went on until midnight.

A Phase of Extreme Poverty, Explored Delhi on Foot

By now, Dandriyal Ji had also become a part of my inner circle. He used to visit Jaypal Da’s place regularly. If for some reason he couldn't make it, we would go to his house. At that time, his family lived in a rented house in Gulabi Bagh, and during that period, he was working on his famous epic poem, Nagarja (Part 3). My friend had absolutely no interest in literature, so he lived in his own world. His job, too, was highly unstable, meaning all the expenses started coming out of my pocket. One advantage of this phase of extreme poverty was that I mapped and measured a large part of Delhi entirely on foot. Dozens of times, I even commuted to the office and back on foot. Once, when my pockets were completely empty, I even had to borrow money from a friend.

Secured a Job at Navbharat Times, While the Friend Began to Betray

In such circumstances, it is only natural for anyone to feel frustrated, but my patience held strong. I felt that I could mold the circumstances in my favor. I was constantly making efforts toward this. As a result, after some time, I landed a job at Navbharat Times. The salary was 2,700 rupees. For that era, it was a very handsome amount. However, 800 rupees out of this went straight toward rent. Meanwhile, my friend had shifted from being a companion to a burden. Perhaps he had already informed his family back in Kotdwar that Delhi was not going to permit him to stay for very long.

Then Came the Day When He Began Packing His Bags

One day, he told me that his father was coming to Delhi. However, he didn't mention why he was coming. A few days later, his father did arrive, but not at our room; instead, he stayed at his sister's—my friend’s aunt's—house. My friend was called there too. Upon returning in the evening, he informed me that his father had taken a shop at the road-head in Kotdwar, and now something would be set up there. He also advised me that if I wished, I could keep the flat to myself. However, he mentioned that the landlord was also thinking of selling it. In a roundabout way, perhaps he didn't want me to stay there, and the truth was, I wasn't interested in staying there either. So, I told him that I would make my own arrangements. I also clearly told him not to leave any of his belongings in the room, as I didn't need anything. I even handed over one of my trousers, a pair of shoes, and a sweater to him, as he had been using them for quite some time.

I Left the Room Even Before He Did

He didn't stop there. After packing his belongings, he called me outside the room and said, "Hey man, do you have some money?" Even if I wanted to, I couldn't say no, so I asked, "How much?" "If you have five hundred...", he said. This was a very large amount, and moreover, it was never going to be returned. So, I said, "I don't have five hundred, but yes, I can give you two hundred." He snatched those two hundred rupees like a vulture. I had already cleared the rent. Therefore, I packed my bags and moved to Jaypal Da's house even before my friend could leave Delhi. Not permanently, just to stay for a few days. After all, I needed some time to figure out where to live next.