My Afternoon in Delhi

I just arrived in New Delhi after an 8 hour bus ride from Rishikesh. After finding my way to the railway station via directions from strangers, a bus, and then finally on overpriced rickshaw, I headed straight for the Foreign Ticket Counter. "I'd like to go to Mumbai tonight." I told the man behind the counter. "Impossible." He replied, never taking his eyes off the computer screen. Having checked tickets online, I knew full well that seats were available on today's trains, and I wasn't about to let this grouch of a man make me stay in Delhi overnight. Pushing him, hounding him, arguing with him, finally, miraculously he found a seat for me. Normally this kind of thing doesn't bother me, but having only eaten a few bits of coconut and a few spoonfuls of peanut butter in over 24 hours, I was not exactly in the most chipper of moods. After a few annoyed and disgruntled looks, the man handed me my ticket. I gave him the sappiest smile and the cheekiest "Thank You!" I could muster. What a world away I am already from the peaceful bliss of the ashram.

I have only ever heard negative things about Delhi--it's hot, it's way over populated, it's dangerous, touts scam you, people are mean and aggressive--and with what little time I've spent here, I'd have to agree. The rickshaw driver's charge 4 times the price you'd have to pay in Mumbai, people lie just to get a few extra rupees out of you, children set up scams to try to steal your money. It's a vicious city, every many for himself.

I'm sitting in a Refreshment Room at the train station and in typical Indian fashion, the items I tried to order were unavailable. Thali? No. Sandwich? No. Rice and Dal? No. "Ok, what do you have?" I inquired, humorously annoyed. Omelets only. Everything else is finished. "Fine, an omelet will be fine." I found a seat towards the back of the nearly empty canteen and refilled my water bottle with the jug of water that sat of my table. Parched, I gulped down half a litre of water before letting out a relieved, quenched sigh. A few moments later, one of the staff came by my table to wipe it down with a wet cloth as he made his rounds cleaning up the messes left by previous customers. After satisfactorily wiping down my table, he squeezed the dirty contents from his rag into the jug I had just enjoyed water from. Wow, I thought to myself. That wasn't drinking water. I just drank the collective dirt, waste, and leftovers from the restaurant's tables. Awesome.