There's a frustration they can never completely explain. Never ever. Frustration of 'them' who are not 'us', frustration of 'outsiders' who don't 'belong' here, frustration of being treated badly. What's meant to be will always find a way it is said, and it must be these aforementioned feelings that prompted the author of this downright 'in-the-face' book to pen down a tragi-comic take on 'our' beloved city. It is an impertinently bold tale on survival of the fittest and the meanest, an unrelenting account of urbane pride and prejudice, and a moving 'kahaani' of an outsider's survival in a city which conveniently disregards his (Dinesh, the central character's) presence. But what's up with all the profanity? Not that it reduces the impact of the story, which is a tad 'deshbhakti-inducing' towards the end, no not even remotely. So pull onto a sidestreet, open the book, read, and get back on the road. If you think a two-hour detour from your work is too long for you then put your work to rest and grab a copy 'kyunki ab dilli door nahin'.