Postcard from India Part II: Back in Delhi
Delhi is shit. A nightmare. If you were ever considering visiting, don’t.
I’m back for the third time now and have managed to whittle down my stock response to begging from “Sorry, I have no money” to a simple “No. Fuck off!”.
The same can be applied to: “Hello sir… Rickshaw?, Map of India?, Where you from?, Shoe shine?, Keyring?, Hashish? Opium?” etc. On one mildy tipsy evening I was returning to my guesthouse and attempted a twist on the standard “fuck off” exchange with the 37th person to ask me if i wanted buy any hash (must be the Beard), responding; “Hash? No… I’d like a gun. Can you sell me guns? Maybe a grenade?”. The shady character stopped in his tracks, had a think for a moment, and replied; “Okay. Come with me”. I didn’t.
I’m even finding myself annoyed by the cows this time round, and they’re about as non-confrontational as you get in Delhi.
If you want to get out of town for a day or two destinations close-by to Delhi don’t offer much relief. I’ve just returned from Agra and, apart from the Taj Mahal, I gotta say it was also pretty shitty. I did however manage to see the Taj for free thanks to some sound advice from a local drug dealer (not something you get to say too often). After overhearing I’d not yet visited the Taj, he suggested to some americans he’d just sold some hash to they give me their ticket stub and i amble up to the gate claiming I’d previously forgotten my camera and could i please be re-admitted. Great! Works every time apparently, and i saved the the equivalent of 5 nights accommodation…
I received an Indian style search on the way in. After making a great show of emptying the contents of my bag, they sent me back to a cloakroom to deposit my knife, mobile, lighter and cigarettes. Second time round they uncover a previously undisclosed USB cable and send me back to the cloakroom. Third time they signal me to the front of the queue, check my bag again and produce my camera, some paracetamol and a packet of condoms (well, you never know!). They then proceed to make a great show of emptying the pack of jonnies on the table, inspecting each one and calling another guard over who smiles, winks, heartily slaps me on the back and waves me through. I imagine the crowd would probably have cheered if one of them had been used.
Anyway… The Taj Mahal was lovely at sunset. Big, shiny and red.
In contrast I’ve enjoyed my time in the north of India, particulalry Leh and the surrounding areas. The Himalayas are massive. Really, really, really big. Huge in fact.
And the people are very friendly and chilled out.
So… Tomorrow I pick up my Pakistan visa (finally) and wave goodbye to India for at least a couple of months (Delhi for good!!!) and look ahead to some more high Himalayan action and, er, islamic fundamentalism.
It’s been interesting. I’ve met some good folk and had some really good times along the way.
Some things i have learnt:
-Trying to queue is pointless. Elbow your way to the front, loudly demand what you want and shove some money in the persons face.
-NEVER purchase a ticket for the “un-reserved” carriage of a train no matter how short the journey (unless you want to sit on the floor on a bed of half smoked bidi’s and snot while fles crawl into your ears and up your nose).
-After some practise it is possible to sleep on trains despite the incessant nasal shouting of people walking up and down the isles requesting money in exchange for some sweaty salad floating in a warm tin bucket full of un-identified slop. ..>..>
-The state of solidity of your shit is a perfectly legitimate subject of conversation at dinner.
Something I have yet to learn:
-To my continued frustration I have no idea what the fuck a head-wobble is supposed to mean (except that it appears to be an acceptable answer to absolutely any question whatsoever).
Posted on Apr 21st 2008 by admin. No Comments ».