Yeh Mera Deewanapan Hai🍂🏵️🍂

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You ever been to Delhi? 

No, I don't mean just visiting. 

I mean living it. 

Waking up to its energy, breathing in its chaos, feeling its rhythm in your bones.

Delhi isn't just a city; it's an experience. 

Every street, every turn, every moment is alive—like it's got a heartbeat of its own. 

You step out into the morning, and it hits you. 

The sounds, the smells—the screech of rickshaws, the aroma of fresh chai mixing with the scent of dust in the air. 

It's a sensory overload, but somehow... it feels right.

The old and the new here, they aren't just neighbors—they're intertwined. 

You'll walk past the towering skyscrapers in one breath, and then suddenly, there it is—an ancient monument, standing like it's been watching over the chaos for centuries.

And the people? 

Oh, they're something else. 

Hustlers, dreamers, survivors. 

It's like everyone's in a race but on a different track. 

The vendor at the corner who's been selling parathas for 40 years; the corporate worker in Connaught Place, briefcase in hand; the artist in Hauz Khas Village, sipping coffee and chasing inspiration. They're all part of this grand, chaotic tapestry.

But don't get me wrong—Delhi isn't easy. 

It tests you. 

The traffic will drive you mad, the pollution will choke you sometimes, and the heat... well, the heat will make you question your life choices. 

But somehow, it doesn't break you. 

It hardens you, molds you, makes you tougher, sharper. 

You learn to thrive in the mess, to find beauty in the madness.

And at night, when the city finally slows down—just a little—you'll find yourself looking at it differently. 

There's a quiet hum, like the city is catching its breath. 

The monuments glow under the moonlight, the streetlights flicker, and there's this strange peace that settles over everything. 

You realize, in that moment, that you're not just in Delhi. 

Delhi is in you.

It's not for everyone. 

But for those who understand it, who can feel its pulse—Delhi is home.

The sun blazed over the bustling streets of Delhi. 

The usual honking, the impatient pedestrians, and the never-ending stream of vehicles filled the air with chaos. 

Among them, one car was weaving through traffic like a bullet, breaking every red light as it shot forward, dangerously close to colliding with anything in its path. 

Behind the wheel, Vansh Raisinghania, looking sharp but disheveled, gripped the steering wheel like a man possessed. 

His eyes were sharp, focused—no one dared stand in his way.

His phone buzzed furiously on the passenger seat. 

Without taking his hands off the wheel, he hit the speaker button.