Delhi Diary, 17 May 2007

We rumbled along the roads through the night with generous layers of Odomos—one reason for that were the mosquitoes and another (by far more important) was that as we had bought too much and never used as much as we thought we would. Giovanni’s party was back in the bus, having made a trip to Rishikesh a day before us to plunge into the Ganga perhaps for a ritual cleansing. Narayan after the entire deadly diatribe meted out to him by the girls, made a beeline for the other bus that was mercifully full of boys. Sunil came in and after pretending to sit for a while, stretched out in the driver’s area—probably even snored but we couldn’t hear him over the noise of the bus. It was a silent night except for the bus driver, who once in a while decided to express all his frustration in as colorful language as possible to deride the ancestors of any driver who crossed his path.

When we rolled into Delhi—for me at least it was nostalgia. We passed the Rajghat, Pragati Maidan and other landmarks that brought back so many memories—of book fairs, of friends, of school and college…of the happy times that were made even more happy with the birth of Ayesha right here in New Delhi. I woke her up to see the city of her birth—the capital city from where Nehru announced India’s freedom. Early morning Delhi is an experience altogether. I may be biased for I know many people afraid to visit or live in Delhi for various reasons that are all justifiable—but an early morning here is enchanting—the restful trees in the park fresh with dew drops, the energy of the people walking by, the hint of mist before the smog, the empty quietness of the roads before the day snarls in to displace all that is intrinsically beautiful—I have always felt at home in Delhi.

Early morning showers rained on us as we got off the bus at our hotels in Karol Bagh. Our group was quite a sight—a sight that would give sore eyes to people who saw us. Ash was disheveled after the bulimic bus ride and down with fever, Nanu was just about recovering from the ankle sprain aggravated by the fall from Munni, Meena was looking thin and felt so light as I carried her off the bus—but their smiles told of how they had enjoyed the trek and how much they wanted to now go to the Valley of Flowers. As for the adults, it was a tale of swollen legs and toe nails falling off and at the moment, all just wanted to go home. Aparna was in pure pain that could not be masked by her lovely smile. She needed to be attended by a doctor for which she and Meena immediately set off for her uncle’s house. The downward climb had taken its impact on her feet and her nails had dug back into her—she needed tetanus shots and rest. She would probably have to take a flight out to avoid any chance of infection. Lien too was to stay back in Delhi.

At the hotel after we washed, cleaned up, had breakfast and packed to catch the train at 5pm, I watched Ayesha sleep off the fever and let Nayanika, Preeti, Liz and Priya have their tour around Delhi. Ash and I only stepped outside when her fever came down, for lunch at Pizza Hut and to buy some Delhi Chappals. It was nice roaming the markets of Karol Bagh—to check out the stock of casual pants by a roadside peddler and hear him say, “Full pant bas itna, baki sab to knicker hai (That’s all the trousers I have, the rest are all shorts)”—I knew I was in Delhi! My friends came back to tell me of how they had been the cynosure of all eyes in the posh Khan Market where they had eaten up a whole box of cherries as they walked on the street with their swollen legs (or leg-ses as the kids would put it because it was like they had more than two). They could not get their feet into any shoes, they could not enter any respectable shop to buy and try out clothes because they looked like hobos with their box of cherries, trekking sandals and clothes in a state that screamed out ‘unemployed’. So they just took in the sights of Delhi along with the cherries and came back. I hooted with laughter because after traumatic bus ride, God had spared me from additional legs and lost nails.

But god had not spared me from the Hargopal sisters. If I have to begin my tale of how I was sunk in a satirical sea, I probably have to begin from the point when we gathered our luggage and waited on the roads for the buses that were to take us to the Railway station. Nayanika was bouncing around in a T-shirt that declared, “ Go ahead and push me around, but you ought to know that I have the meanest, baddest sister in town”—and Ash started it all off by telling me, “Mimi, your brother should get a T-shirt like that!”

Oh well, I thought as I stood near a mannequin of the shop wherein I had deposited Ash and Nanu and then I felt Priya’s eyes. She looked at me and looked somewhere else and she did that eerily till I looked at where she was looking. The Mannequin—it had a hairstyle that looked like what my hair looked now—neither feminine chic, nor masculine charm. Vasu might have given me a short elegant cut but the Himalayas had iced out the elegance to make it look like a flattened drapery of sorts with two curled up bangs on the side (which Sangeeta, who could not make it to trek had asked me to pin back with a clip that Aparna had specially gone out to buy). Added to the state of my hair was a checked shirt I wore, giving me an all round look of what Priya called Raju Guide (of the Dev Anand movie). Then she called me Raju Conductor. Then she pointed out that my hairstyle was shared by some of the young street thugs. I looked to see that not only did they seem to have my hair, they had shiny check shirts and one earring like mine. At least I had two, I thought as I reached out to feel my ear lobes and was shocked to realize that I too had only one earring! I ran like a bat out of hell into the hotel to search for my pure gold earring that I have been wearing since I was in school. I pulled off the sheets in the room and had the whole hotel on alert. All to of no avail—I walked back sadly, with a consoling Preeti by my side, who derided Nayanika’s suggestion that I check my shirt pocket. I have always listened to Ayesha’s trusted friends and Nanu is always a lucky baby for me—so as Preeti went on to say that it’s such a tiny pocket etcetera, I slipped a hand in and pulled out the earring! The lucky baby strikes again! After I gave Nanu a deserving squeeze that left her spluttering for breath and holding on to Ayesha for support, I proudly put back the earring and faced Priya again. Unfortunately, after the brief period of consolation I received, Preeti had joined her to point out more young street Rajus. Even Liz chimed out “Oye Raju”, relegating all family ties to me to the background, with an infectious giggle. One busload of our group had left already and Speedy stayed with us very reluctantly heroic, until he slipped off to the station surreptiously. As we sat there abandoned and waiting for our ride, I resigned myself to looking at my bretheren pass by and believe you me—there were many. It looked like I shared my hairstyle with the entire population of unemployed street-hangers out in Karol Bagh complete with shiny check shirts and one earring. Woe is indeed me!

I suffered in silence and dignity (even though I say so myself) as the Hargopal sisters and others made an entertainment of me till suddenly a green lizard leaped out of a taxi. It was one of the organizers in a green T-shirt who shouted animatedly, “Get in the Taxis, the train is about to leave and it only stops at this station for a few minutes!” We loaded our luggage and ourselves into taxis as the leaping lizard danced a war dance around us exhorting us to leave—I mean, when did we tell him we want to stay?

Our motorcade of taxis got us to the Railway station all in one piece, with our luggage in one piece and as the train chugged in we jumped aboard and grabbed the best seats (in honor of Lien—she would have been proud of us!). We formed a human chain to pass on the entire luggage we carried as a group of first time trekkers and then we sat back exhausted as the train hooted like Hogwarts Express and departed from the station. I watched as Minto Bridge went by and I promised myself that I would bring back Ayesha for a visit—with a brand new haircut and this time not stay among my brethren in Karol Bagh. Our adventure was coming to an end but it had set us off on a route to want to discover more about the expanse of varied beauty in our country, and more about ourselves. So I guess it wasn’t an end—just the beginning of another adventure.