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Published: June 30th 2006
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A Metaphor for Paharganj
I guess you could call this a typical electric/telephone/cable/whatever pole in Paharganj, fitting really and definitely up to code. Any expectation I could have had or prediction I could have made would not have prepared me for the absolute assault on the senses that constitutes the Indian experience. Since the first moment I stepped out of the airport at 2 o' clock in the morning, I was confronted with a place that was unlike any other that I had every seen. The roads were teeming with scooters, bicycles, cycle-rickshaws, cars, vans, pushcarts, and imposing trucks; the only rule of the roads here is that the big fish eats small fish, no lanes, no signals, and traffic lights are a mere suggestion. I basically sat in the back of the older minivan in which I was riding and gazed in awe at the humanity that was everywhere. There were people sleeping in every conceivable place and position that I could imagine--sidewalks, patches of worn out grass, and cardboard hovels to name a few--and from what I could tell this was basically what they called home, laying a small pallet on the concrete and bedding down for the night. As for the taxi and rickshaw drivers, home was their vehicle; they’d park on the side of the rode and grab some sleep
View from a Rickshaw
Enlarge this photo and you'll see the large truck on the right, the other rickshaws on the left, and lack of actual traffic lanes--makes for quite an experience. curled in backbreaking positions whenever they could. On top of all this, even at about 2:00 a.m., when I was traveling to my hotel, the heat was stifling and the traffic extremely congested and chaotic. I couldn't even begin to fathom what any type of rush hour would look like in Delhi. Describing the feeling that was in the air was difficult, but two words that seem apt are languid and squalid.
While still suffering from sensory overload, my taxi suddenly comes to a stop in a slum-like area; the driver who does not speak any English indicates that I am staying somewhere down a narrow and dark alley. I’m skeptical to say the least. As I peer down the alley I spot the sign for my hotel, the Hotel Star Paradise, and as I looked around me I couldn’t help but find the situation ironic, whoever named this hotel must have had a sense of humor. Situations inside my hotel didn’t seem to be all that much better seeing as when I came in 4 of the employees were sleeping on a pallet in the small reception area. Needless to say my hotel room was not exactly lavish,
"Maybe a Watch for you Sir?"
Rolexes and Tags only of course. but it had an water cooler and a fan which is better than many hotels, and those two contraptions, the water cooler producing a noise like a jet taking off when in use, proved to be invaluable in dealing with the oppressive 115 degree heat of Delhi. Either way I was still getting a deal at 250 Rupees per night (~$6.00).
The area in which I had chosen as my new temporary home is called Paharganj and is the area to which most backpackers gravitate when they arrive due to the cheaper accommodation and its proximity to the railway station. However, Paharganj is not for the faint of heart. I found this out immediately after stepping out of my hotel as I heard the calls of “Hello sir, something nice in my shop?” but instead of answering that question I had other worries like dodging the rickshaws and cycle-rickshaws that pack the streets of the Main Bazaar in Paharganj. Among these wild honking and yelling maniacs who are VERY eager to give you a ride somewhere, there are masses of people moving through the crowds: women in brightly colored saris, travelers fending off the countless merchants, Indian men in
City Cows
Now this just looks like a Far Side cartoon waiting to happen. What can you do; for Hindus the cows are holy. turbans or otherwise dressed in a 70’s era slacks and button-up garb; cruising impossibly through the foot traffic are also motorcycles who are incessantly blowing their horns in an attempt to get you out of the way. However, you usually have nowhere to go and your options consist of scowling at the insistent drivers, pushing a cow out of the way, or stepping in some of the excrement left on the street by some wild cow or dog. And that’s only a 30 second snapshot of what it’s like to be there. So, it really is that filthy and incredibly polluted, but somehow Paharganj maintains some charm—the shops lining the streets are selling fabrics and clothing of every color and texture imaginable, gems and jewelry, and any essential backpacker equipment an Indian traveler could need. That doesn’t even include all the tastes that are all around you—fried potatoes, naan, dal, freshly squeezed juice, bananas, mangoes, apples, papaya, sweet cookies, and numerous other tasty treats prepared right in front of you and served in leaf bowls or newspaper. Part of the experience is really just attempting to take in the entire experience, the tastes, the smells, the sounds, the sights, etc.
Delhi Gate
There really are some impressive monuments and such in Delhi. This one is a memorial to the soldiers that have died fighting in previous wars, WWI & II as well as some smaller skirmishes. It’s absolute chaos and absolute craziness, but incredibly fascinating and definitely outside of any previous reality I had ever known. Fortunately, you are able to gain some respite from everything on the numerous rooftop terraces and restaurants that most of the hotels in the area have. There I could lounge, enjoy some incredibly cheap Indian fare, a nice cup of chai, and converse with other travelers. But 5 days in Delhi was definitely enough; my next stop is Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal; however, I hear that constant haggling with rickshaw drivers, extreme poverty, and oppressive heat are the norm there at this time of year as well.
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Erica
non-member comment
Glad to hear from you
Hi Grant, I shared a lot of your experiences with Don over dinner tonight and he was just grinning from ear to ear, laughing, and inspired by your words. So gleeful that you are having this experience. You really are so gifted. "Some walk in the rain, and some just get wet" brought tears to my eyes and to your dad's, these are true words. And "Part of this experience is just attempting to take in the whole experience"--is a statement that sums up life rather well. Thanks so much Grant for this travel journal, it really means a lot to many people I am certain, as it does us. By the way another really good book written in India is "I Am That" by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj. According to Deepak Chopra, it is the most lucid, practical account of absolute self-realization since Patanjali--of 4,000 years ago, and much more relevant--as it was written in the 1980s. His yoga was "Nisarga Yoga" which means "Natural Yoga," the yoga of the mind in everyday life. If you are interested in finding out more about him you can google him I am sure. We eagerly await your next entry! Much Love from your dad and me. Erica PS Indian food is my favorite food, because of the variety within each meal. How is it different there? You are supposed to have "six tastes" with every meal--bitter, sweet, sour, pungent, salty, and mild. . . . Something like that, a Vedic diet. How is that applied there, in restaurants? I am curious.