Did the title to this post seem problematic to you? If not, then think again. It had hardly been a month in Delhi and my friends from school started calling me Dilli-wali. Unaware whether it was a compliment or a comment, I ignored it and tried to fight the depression I was going through in the first month of my college because I couldn’t accept the people I met. I barely knew anyone. I was homesick. And people at home, Odisha, called me Dilli-wali. The Delhites called me south Indian. And there I was lying in the bed of my tiny rented room, sharing it with two strangers who were quite contrary to me in nature, thinking about the tags that I have been given. With my under graduate days coming to an end, I am proud to say that I survived three years in Delhi. Not that it’s a bad city to be in, but it gets quite chaotic in one’s head when one comes from a small town. But then, when is the human mind at peace? In these three years I have wondered more than often, have I changed