Brand New Delhi
Last Friday boss calls me to his office first thing in the morning, it was the end of the week and I was worried that weekend work beckoned, and I hadn’t shaved.
Boss: ddm how’s your knowledge on trade in services?
me: quite alrite I guess
Boss: good, what plans next week?
me: (hurriedly checking phone organizer) not much
Boss: ahh..can you go to Delhi and present a paper?
me: ah…ok..when?
Boss: Wednesday, so you’ll have to fly Tuesday night. Can write up something by then no?
me: yeah why not.
So here I am, after much chaos in between. Let’s put it this way, my flight was at 3pm on Tuesday, and until Tuesday morning I hadn’t completed my paper, didn’t have a visa, didn’t know when I was presenting, didn’t know if i’d get picked up at the airport, didn’t know if my hotel was booked, and most importantly didn’t have a final nod as to whether despite late notification I would be speaking at all. All this bc on Monday the whole of India took a poya check in memory of Mahathma Gandhi. Quite right too. What I did have was an airline ticket, some dodge looking visa photos taken on Friday and some very dubious hotel reviews.
I could have quite easily said no to this whole thing, but I’ve never been to India and thought this would be a good taster before Goa in November. My biggest worry was getting the visa, Friday was out of the question bc it was too late in the day to get all the documentation sorted, and on Monday the HC was closed. Happily boss and I knew this chap at HC who arranged the visa within 2 hours. The Indian HC is chaos personified, I walked into the security office where this chap had a very eerie hand, the little finger was chopped half way and the worse half dangled on the finest sliver of skin. Another Indian security officer stood at the door barking, almost literally, at everyone who tried to come in to the security office instead of the main visa queue. When I walked up he looked at me menacingly over his mousthache and said “you! what!?” I was in half a mind to put my tail between my legs and join the visa queue, miss my flight and go home. But I said that i have an interview with Mr. so and so, and he waves me in. I walk out an hour and a bit later, clutching my 90 day visa, it was almost noon, time to rush. In the 40 seconds it took to clear my table and rush home I got a call from Delhi, the lady said that my pick up at Indira Gandhi airport has been arranged, that she received a copy of my paper and that she hopes I have a safe flight. I hope so too, I said and went off to Banda airport.
I heard that the airport in Delhi is a bit of a culture shock and fairly dodge even by developing country standards. I couldn’t imagine it would be much worse than the airport in Katmandu so I wasn’t too fussed. In general my expectations for the entire journey were at a fairly low ebb. It started when I was reading reviews for the hotel I was due to stay in. The main review said 5 star, beautifully located in the plush diplomatic centre of Chanakyapuri, 2 mins from conference hall. I perked up. But then further down on the google search I saw some user reviews which were far from flattering.
“You’ll enjoy it if you like cockroaches”
“Checked out in 30 mins”
“Never ever ever..again”
“Seriously, don’t go”
The best thing anyone had to say about the hotel was that the pool is spacious. (It is). On this encouraging note I was off, admist warnings not to drink water, not to eat anything salad-like, avoid anything milky. Excellent, pringles and coke it is, the healthy option.
Three hours on the plane went quite fast, what after getting used to 10 hour marathons to Heathrow most flights seem a breeze. I read the Kite Runner and made notes on my arm from the in-flight magazine about Goa and the wonders thereof. The Indira Gandhi airport in Delhi was perfectly alrite, the immigration chaps quick and unfussy and someone had even removed my bag from the conveyor belt. Good start. I then walked out passed the name board and didn’t see mine on any of them. Bad form. I sent a text to my point of contact in Delhi and got no response. Bugger. I made one more pass at the name board and mine hadn’t magically appeared. Too policemen were sitting around twiddling their mousthaches so I tried to ask them if they knew of this conference and if anyone was here to pick ppl up. They looked confused, clearly not understanding a word I had said, and started gesticulating here and there in an effort to show me the phone booths, the name boards and the airport exit simultaneously. I decided to try the name boards once more and tada, he had appeared, wrong spelling and all. I offer him my hand and introduce myself and ask him if his name is Amit. He shakes his head and tries to take my bag, I say nono it’s ok I’m a big boy, and then he shakes my hand again and says his name is Amit and takes my bag. The two cops wave at me grinning widely, I grin back and put a salute. All’s well that ends well.
We get into Amit’s car which refuses to start, and then stalls thrice in the parking lot. Amit says “shit”, looks at me and grins. Once we’re on the road I relax with the familiarity. Crazy driving, liberal horning, inter-vehicle conversations, packed buses, manic three-wheelers and more pollution than you can shake a stick at. But I loved it, I felt at home. We got to the hotel and my name isn’t on the guest list. Feck. He goes through the book again in front of me and I see it, ddm, Sri Lanka. I point at it with my crooked fingers, and he grins and says ahh I thought you were Jameel! Fair enough I thought, I’ve been called far more bizarre things than that. The hotel was fine if a bit musty and gaudy. True the corridors were musty, the bathroom fittings a bit wobbly and the cupboard door a bit shifty, but it was not a patch on what everyone had said it was, there were no cockroaches, in fact there was no wildlife at all bar a rather large gecko who clucked and ran behind a painting. Those suddas one thing are proper drama cases. I had a super hot shower, told everyone back home that I got here in one piece and that my twin sharing room seemed to have one twin missing. Good thing too. A good start to what would hopefully be a tasty first bite of India.
