Initiation To Delhi

Delhi is a mindblower! Up until now we’ve had a smattering of the sounds, the smells, the congestion of people, the bustle of shops and merchants in the different places of India where we’ve been. Landing in Delhi after another gruelling overnight bus ride has, so far, been overwhelming.

This time we ‘splurged’ by taking a ‘Deluxe’. Bus. The only difference, we’ve discovered, between a local bus and a ‘deluxe’ bus is that deluxe buses charge more. Our seats were just as uncomfortable. We still had to hold on to own backpacks. It was overly crowded, and, to top it all, our ‘deluxe’ bus broke down at about 4:00 am leaving us stranded out in the middle of the ‘highway’. Other buses stopped as they passed us, picking up some passengers at a time, depending on the number of seats available. By the time we arrived from Kullu (17 hours later) we were completely drained.

We are staying in a rugged area of Delhi called Paharganj. It is close to the Delhi Metro station, which makes everything so much more accessible. The room is clean. The people who run it are nice and it comes highly recommended by The Lonely Planet. It has a hot shower and pigeons hang out right outside our 4^th floor window.

It is hard to be objective in Delhi. There are so many sights that startle me…noises that overwhelm me and smells that intrude and nauseate me. People function from a place of pure survival. They seem to be struggling for food, for drink, for entertainment and for personal space.

There are people everywhere! The main roads are lined with men women and children sitting along the curbs in groups that look like families. Their homes (tarpaulin sheets and makeshift tents) are not far away from the curbs where they sit bent under shawls and holding tightly on to each other.

All roads are crowded. There are bicycles, cars, rickshaws, motorcycles, cows, people, dogs, carts all going somewhere. There is no orderliness. Horns blow constantly. The varieties of horn sounds make it seem like it should be harmonic, but the fact is, it is off key, overbearing and loud.

There is harshness here; a brazen behaviour that cuts to the quick. Residents are brash, letting you know exactly what they want or, at least, think they want. “Don’t forget to give me a good tip.” A taxi cab driver reminds me as he’s driving. “Money. Money. Money.” Says a 12-year-old boy as he tugs on my arm. He is neatly dressed in school uniform. It is obvious he does this often.

A girl child scurries up to our car window as we stop for a red light. Her hands clasp to the slightly opened window as she hangs lightly on the edge. She gestures, fingertips meeting at her lips “Hungry…I’m hungry. I want food. Give me money for food.” She is skilled at looking painful, destitute, with sad looking eyes that stare at me relentlessly.

Another young girl, wearing a simple blue dress that is dirty and torn sits perched on a wall outside of The Indira Ghandi Memorial Museum. She is crying. There is no one else around that seems to know her. My first, conditioned response is to go up to her, “Where are your parents?” I want to say in helping mode. Then I stop. This is Delhi. This child is probably acting. It is hoax to get money.

But what if it’s not? What if she really needs help? Her acting skill is superior, never making eye contact with me, never backing from her intention. I am convinced her mother is not far away watching her carefully, making sure she is doing it right.

I have seen men stooping by the side of the road defecating. The smell of urine is in the air.

There is no expectation of privacy…. no understanding of individual needs, and no possibility of finding solitude. People live to survive and will do anything to make that happen.

The evil here is money, not people. There seems to be confusion about values in the world. When Indians see westerners, it seems to me, many of them respond with their eyes lighting up with dollar signs. Many in Delhi, don’t see me. And, they have so much that we don’t have. I wish there were something we could do to remind each other about that.

There is a man with a rugged looking face positioned on a bicycle rickshaw. One of his legs extends in readiness to pedal. He yawns fully revealing a large space in between his two remaining teeth. He is smiling slightly as he talks with another man. They are talking quietly, gently and one at a time as the other one listens. There is calm and intensity in their interaction. There is a respect between them and wisdom about how things can work in this world.

By the time the moon has risen in Delhi the crowds disperse. The merchants pack up their goods, and the cows along the road find a place to sleep. The city quiets down without becoming silent. There is never silence here. There is always something going on.