A brush with Fagin's gang.
Another entry from the diary. Skip the typos, here it is uncorrected:
...Delhi, in another 2hrs 45, after another disgusting airline meal, (well, it was sort of breakfasty) But this time, sleeves not even rolled up, I'm ready for Delhi. I feel confident.
Decided I'd do without a pre-paid taxi, and managed the Metro (with a change and all the security checks) to R K Ashram Marg. through the cordon of taxis, tuk-tuks and cycle rickshaws, and into the clamour of Paharganj's Main Bazar. Took it in my stride to find a suitable room in the Hare Krishna Hotel, even negotiated a rate from 700 a night via 600 with tax and service charges, down to 600 all in. Paid up front.
The room is on 4th floor, and in seventies orange and midnight blue with MFI style wooden beading and bordering. Clean enough. Gd wifi.
Head off to explore the delights of The Ganj, full of tourists, mostly elderly hippies. And youngsters, the next generation, coming along nicely, and those who will look back on it from a more conventional later life...
In front of the Stn, a man lay asleep. Pissed and shit himself many times, and flies swarmed at the dark wet area around his arse. Maybe he was dead. The road bridge with amazing views over the tracks, an ox cart. Walked to Connaught Place, the lovely curves of Lutyens' grand concentric bldgs, M&S, like airports, you always know where you are with Marks. A concert under the India Flag, and an expensive dinner at The Embassy, corner of Block B, with high turbaned doorman in maroon to sweep open the door. Upper end Delhi eat here. But what passes for nothing exceptional in the UK. Décor modest pretentiousness and in need of an update. Don't look too close. Good menu, but mineral water at 99/- a bottle!!!!! (plus all the add ons) and they do Embassy cream pie special for afters. All together an eye-watering 1300-odd.
Went and found ATM and drew out 2000/- should see me through to the airport on Tuesday if I'm careful. Walked back in spitting rain, ppl still piss up the wall here, to The Ganj, a bit like Soho of the sixties, and wiped away the aftertaste of the cream pie in a serving of nasty orange sugary squiggles from a streetbarrow. I have arrived.
Yesterday Sunday 15th
Gd sleep. Soft mattress, good pillows. Hot shower, and a Bombay Breakfast, porridge, fried eggs on toast, tea, in another of these eateries geared to furriners. Metro, all fairly straight forward, inc more changes, to Chandni Chowk and, third time lucky, a visit to The Red Fort... I now know how to do ticket offices, and audio guide hire, and all is well... until right at the end of the visit, and I get my wallet pinched in the Sunday crowds pushing and shoving through the first room of the arms museum (which I'd been in two minds abt anyway!) Shit! And it was zipped into my trousers "security" pocket too!
I now enter a different world. There are dozens of ppl in uniform everywhere in India, security of every kind, but finding someone to help you is a different matter. Passing the buck from pillar to post sounds abt right... But, eventually, a system starts to work, and my cause is taken up by a police officer... A drive, and a walk to a dark dingy office in a subway, a superior officer is sent for, I make a statement, write a report, and am persuaded that I have LOST my wallet, rather than say it was stolen, (less red tape all round) and given coffee. There is a HUGE language prob as superior officer doesn't speak much English. In the middle of it all a poor teenage scrap of human vermin is dragged in protesting and given a gratuitous beating with a wooden stick, he yelps, is terrified, and released.
Back to Red Fort where I return my Audio Guide, and told a lot of it goes on there. The attendant points to a handwritten notice on a piece of card stuck to the wall BEWARE OF PICKPOCKETTERS (sic). Next, with the same police officer in autorickshaw to police stn proper, where my statement is formulated, typed up, duly witnessed first, and then signed by me. the policeman and I return to his duty patch at R Fort, the driver is paid off and told to get me back to my hotel. He sees me through the door, as per his instructions.
I can cancel my lost card on line, thank god for iPads and wifi, and get more money with my other card, thankfully kept separately.
In all I lost:
abt 1750/- (under £18)
£10
Debit card
MasterCard (never used)
UK SIM Card (bugger!)
A tiny piece of lapis lazuli, (my souvenir from Jaisalmer.)
My wallet, which will need replacing,
My arrogance abt Delhi.
The strange thing is, I'm really not at all bothered. It's been sorted. I still have my passport, which I'll need again on Thursday cos I'm off to Spain for my nephews wedding; my buspass (which I'd handed in as surety against the audioguide; and my life - (no real trauma, I was not robbed at gun or knifepoint.)
So Delhi seems to have had the last word in this five month lesson in living, and I am almost ready to be sent back home tomorrow. But that final lick of indian paint hasn't yet dried. There's still 24 hrs to go. Anything can happen!
