i flew across landscapes of wonder and into the urban clutter of delhi. from the top, it look like giant plates of microchips, unliving, whirring and buzzing in mechanical drones. i reached delhi faster than i could hope for, and when i stepped out of the plane, it felt like i walked right into a blast furnace.
i cursed the weather and the heat, as if it was totally unnatural for me to be in a temperature of above 25degrees, caught a public bus and went over to paharganj, the scrummy ghettoish backpacker’s strip of delhi. i found a dirty dirt-cheap room in one of the back alleys, bathed and immediately went to the railway station to get my tickets to agra. i was pretty certained that nothing was going to make me stay in delhi for too long. after which, i went back to paharganj and ate a ridiculously cheap but filling thali for lunch.
as i chewed on my rice, chapatis and papads, i noticed something very different from the travelers i see in delhi and the ones i met in ladakh. here, people came in all shapes and sizes, in all sorts of ridiculous outfits and hairdos. they looked like travelers who had been staying in khao sarn road, but came to india after hearing about its mystical hashish. dreadlocks, tattoos, piercings, drunks, hippies, hippies wannabes…
and it’s such a stark contrast with the people i met in leh. everyone seemed both physically and mentally healthy, happy and confident. they either enjoy nature, adventure or are crazily lost in tibetan culture. talking to everyone of them was a joy indeed. in delhi and paharganj, i did not even feel like talking to one single traveler.
the next day, i went to jama masjid and found a semblance of the happiness i feel so much in Leh, and what i thought i’ve lost when i came to delhi. the mosque was peaceful and quiet, even with the amount of people walking around. i could sit by a corner, undisturbed, and simply enjoy the breeze and watch pigeons fly around. i left for lunch and proceeded to connaught place to meet with samriddh, an ex-colleague. sitting in a cafe, the television suddenly streamed in latest news of another bomb blast in delhi, in a southern mehrauli flower market. i stared blankly at the screen, unbelieving that another blast has hit delhi again. but strangely, no one in the cafe seemed to take notice or care too much.
they seem oblivious or uncaring, as if they’ve seen too much, or as if it was just all part of their daily life. and then the waiter came over and switched the station to cricket highlights. almost immediately, the cafe came abuzzed and more eyes were glued to the screen.
i met samriddh for dinner and as we chatted away with random topics, i asked him the inevitable question of what he had missed about singapore when he came back to india. surprisingly, he didn’t miss anything alot. he commented that singaporeans were too robotic, too contained within thmselves; during meals, in public transports, no one ever talks to one another. there is a distinct lack of human touch and connection as a society and in many levels between friends, colleagues and families. i agreed without much thought. i’ve certainly talked to more strangers, and many more have talked to me in india. there was hardly a meal or a bus trip without a conversation.
