Delhi - Au Revoir Goatgirl, Well Hello Delhi...
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
38
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Delhi,
India
Friday, June 10, 2005
I'd bought a packet of chips as a snack for the journey. As I was walking down the ramp to the platform I felt a hand brush against mine, grab the chip packet and run off. I yelled "hey!" only to turn around a see a monkey scampering up the railing onto the roof. Obviously he'd seen me coming and recognised the salty snack in my hands. Keep in mind that this is the main train station in a city of over one and a half million people. Those from home - can you imagine standing under the clocks at Flinders Street Station and a possum comes and nicks your lunch?
As we have some time to wait on the platform, we are approached by beggers every few minutes - elderly crouched over or the disabled, dragging themselves along the dirty platform. Dogs run around after food scraps. Cows roam through garbage. Monkeys steal food from your hands. Everyone and everything in this country is desperate to survive. It is hard to appreciate how India has ended up this way, that it is an acceptable way of life, and makes you wonder if the country's problems are being solved, or if they ever will.
On the train an Indian businessman next to me wanted a chat. He was obviously wealthy given the list of countries that he had taken his family to, including Australia. His family were from Pune (near Mumbai) and were all in the midst of returning home from holidays further north.
The topic got onto my 'job' back home in music, and then onto music in Bollywood films. He asked "Why don't Western tunes get re-written with Hindi language and put into Indian films. It is all in the tune!"
I pondered. I couldn't see how anyone could trust one billion Indians let loose with our songs, when I can't control one monkey from stealing my chips.
We arrived back in Delhi well after dark to find the opportunistic taxi drivers out to make a killing. All were having a go at doubling the price. I think it was sending Goatgirl around the bend - its her last full night here in India as she heads home tomorrow, and in the end the ripoffs just wear you down. Some days you can deal with it, other times you just want to throttle them. I think my best dummy-spit so far was to a Sikh taxi driver in Delhi. He was complete with turban and beard, signs of following his religion to some extent at least. When we asked how much a trip would be (knowing it should cost around 30 Rp) he said "200 Rupees".
I said "Get fucked. You understand that English don't you? Get fucked!"
I wander if his God minds that he is trying to rip off people....
Goatgirl's last hoorah was to go shopping for gifts for family and friends back home in the US. Her shopping has remarkably improved in the past few months, and I'd suggest it is entirely my influence. She was buying like a woman possessed, with speed and efficiency.
Our 'last supper' was a late afternoon lunch and two large beers in icy mugs shaped like tree roots - seriously. Sitting up on a rooftop restaurant away from the crowds, the cows, the tooting horns, the touts, the beggers, the smells, the rip offs.... the only thing tht you can't hide from up there is the Delhi smog. If there is cloud over Delhi it holds in the junk, leaving you with vision of only a few hundred metres and a slight stench. Not so pleasant in 42 degree heat, which the newspaper described as "very uncomfortable, and very uncomfortable for the next few days".
Goatgirl and I headed out to the international airport in an autorickshaw. Probably not such a hot idea given its an open vehicle and the airport is around 15 k's away, and Delhi's traffic is somewhat busy and somewhat fumey, but it seemed an appropriate way to close her trip.
My jaunt in India will certainly not be the same with her - a kindred travelling spirit, gutsy, adventurous, hilarious, intelligent. I would not have attempted alone many of the things I have over the past few weeks without her - such as climbing mountains on my hands and knees, nor eating certain questionable food substances. But I did, and I am certainly glad I did, even though I beleive she tried to kill me at least once.
You Goatgirl. Who's your Nanny?
Before coming to Delhi, I asked a recent visitor what was the difference between the part of town known as 'Old Delhi', and the part of town known as 'New Delhi'.
The answer I recall - "Nothing. They are both crap."
Clearly I'm staying in the dodgy part of town. The hotel is great, but the neighbourhood (actually just 'hood will suffice) simply ain't. Maybe its the smelly open public toilets about twenty metres away featuring the words "Slum and JJ Dept" on the side that are the indicator.
With these two things in mind, I'm not planning on staying long. Hence I jumped on a bus tour to get most of the attractions out of the way in one go. As with most tours in Asian countries, there is an element of confusion at the start (I had to swap buses three times) and blatent lying as to the attractions that you'll see (the good ones are dodged or driven past with claims of "no parking, sorry can't stop") . Oh, and some more flipping shopping stops that you don't want.
The Indian gent at the microphone was mildly entertaining, telling us that Delhi was "officially titled the 'Clean and Green' city of India".
One highlight was a stop at the Ghandi Museum - not Mahatma, but for the Ghandi family of political fame. Indira Ghandi was Prime Minister up until 1984, when she was gunned down by two of her bodyguards. She was cremated at the same site where Mahatma was cremated. I remember it distinctly because of a fantastic bad taste joke that has stayed with me to this day....
Q: How do you fit 5 Prime Ministers in a Mini-Minor?
A: Two in the back, two in the front, and Indira Ghandi in the ashtray.
The museum is at the house where Indira Ghandi lived, and includes a glass plaque over the spot where she was shot, apparently with original bloodstains under the plaque. I couldn't see them myself.
Almost as disturbing are the rooms dedicated to her son Rajiv Ghandi, also a former Prime Minister, who was killed by a bomb in 1991. On display is the scorched outfit he was wearing at the time of the explosion. Ka-boom.
India is a strange country.
Qutub Minar is an interesting ancient Muslim site, the Persian version of the Roman Ruins perhaps. It includes a high pillar, built in the 1300's, which now as a 700 year old lean to it. The remnants of ancient Mosques and meeting halls are scattered in the complex. The tour also visited the Bahai Temple. It is multi-faithed, and thus filled with Sihks, Hindus, Christians, Buddhists and anyone else who fancies a good pray. The temple is said to be shaped like a Lotus Flower, but to me it looks like a ripoff of the Sydney Opera House, but inverted. Another Indian ripoff scam....
The final stop on the tour was Delhi's Red Fort. Actually stop is an overstatement. They were not going to, given there was no parking allegedly, but I insisted on getting off as it is the most impressive part of the Old Delhi skyline. At least he slowed the bus down for me. Maybe I've seen too many forts here in India, as it seems to fall into insignificence when compared to the forts at Jodhpur or Jaisalmer.
Wandering back through the Chandi Chowk market area with its stiffling crowds, stiffling heat, yelling, and mad vehicles, I'm beginning to think my patience with India is thinning. I'm starting to make plans to move on to Europe. But I do have at least one more stop left in me. Its time I got Leh'd.
