Police and Thief

Ok. I thought i'm not going to blog anything more bout the trip. But i changed my mind. Ha.

The bizarre incident at Main Bazaar (Paharganj in New Delhi) left me sleepless for the night.

We had a train to catch at 6:30am in the morning and would need to be at the train station by 5:30am. Thus, we tucked ourselves into bed early. At 10 plus, WanZ seemed sound asleep.

“Boomp! Boomp!” First, the noise was loud and disparate.

A second later, it came loud. Incessant. Relentless. Chaotic.

Sounded like a shootout to me. Felt like crossfire between the police and the bandits.

I panicked. “Did you hear that?” I asked WanZ. But apparently, she was in lala land already.

“Are we safe? Should I wake her up? Am I being paranoid? Is it my overactive imagination?”

By chance, I was reading Helen Fielding’s Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination. (Helen Fielding’s the author of the very neurotic Bridget Jones’ Diary, which I found to be completely hilarious.) And by chance, the book is about the protagonist, Olivia Jones, having an overactive imagination and almost dead from a terrorist bomb blast on a ship and went on an espionage mission to track down the terrorists.

Then the crossfire died down. Came in gentle bouts thereafter. One. Two. Then ceased.

I didn’t want to find out more. “Nothing bad is happening. We’ll be all right. Our door’s locked. The table’s right at the door, blocking the path of potential intruders.” I repeated the assuring phrases over and over again in my mind.

Reminded me of our Laos trip when my overactive imagination played such a huge joke on me. But the group of men, about six to eight of them, hitchhiking our vehicle without bringing any stuff, alighting the same spot as us, staring at us while we were waiting to be served dinner at the guesthouse at 8 or 9 at night and looking at our backpacks warranted our radars to be up and working. (That little town in Laos had no street lights, no police. Only hills and plantations.)

That night, in the wee hours, the dogs barked. Dogs bark when they see strangers, right? I was waiting for the men --hostile-looking, bearded ruffians -- to run up the stairs leading to our room, kicked our door open and loot our stuff. I was in my super-alert-commando mode, checking for possible sounds of foot-steps that would be super amplified by the bamboo-stilted floor.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. It was the longest night of my life.

Nothing happened. Thank God.

And now, I’ve another long night at hand. No bandits hopefully. Tried to lull myself to sleep.

Failed.

Brrrrrr….The shockingly cold Delhi air didn’t help too. The chill turned us into natural gymnasts, all rolled up.

Tossed and turned. Cold. Tossed and turned. 12 midnight. Then it was 1a.m. Then 3 a.m. Then 4 plus.

Finally time to wake up. So glad the night was over.

Guess what the loud noises turned out to be?

Fireworks. Hahaha. I did have an overactive imagination. Silly me! What was i thinking?!

Oh, but the area where we lived wasn’t that safe after all. Apparently, it was one of the three sites where bombings took place late last year.

Nameste! From Japan, Korea?

Disclaimer: This entry is based on personal experience. I'm NOT a bigot by nature.

Nameste! (Opening line inspired from WanZ's blog. Ha)

This ostensibly friendly greeting in Hindi turned out to be friendly-not. More likely, everytime when we heard it, it was beckoning: "Show me the money!!"

Even when it was not heard, the "show me the money" aura seemed to pervade almost every step we took. I was hoping we were just being petty and paranoid when people approached us, when they wore smiles on their faces. But almost everytime, it wasn't paranoia. Our hostilities were justified. Valid. In fact, the optimist in me had always hoped for the better. Until proven wrong. Not wanting to be left disappointed time and again, the best strategy we came up with: ignore, ignore and ignore. If stares could kill, we would have employed that instead. Too bad.

If clothes maketh a man, then people maketh a land. Which explained why Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, didn't feel that awesome. At least to me. It might be the time of the day when we went. Or maybe it was that time of the month. A temple of much less splendour in Thailand or Laos would feel much more inspiring.

Not gonna write any more stuff on the trip. In case any incendiary and inflammatory statements get posted.

Nonetheless, have posted some photos which i like from my trip. Hmmm...some nice memories still. Even though i was always worried if those little ones were gonna raise their hands and say: "Tip. Tip." when i took their photos. But there's always a glint of innocence in kids. That's why they're my favourites. Not photoshopped though. Presenting them in their raw forms.

Of Superstitions & Such...

She lost to a fortune-teller.
She likes him. He likes them.
One man. Two women.
He made a choice.
"Why her, not me?" She asked.
" The fortune-teller said she'd bring me good luck," he said.
She lost to a fortune-teller.

But, did she really lose anything, at all?

Roti, Naan or Perata..

The good. The bad. And the ugly. India is the land that has it all.
Five days into the trip, i think i'm so ready to head home.
Cos
The good, few.
The bad, more.
The ugly, loads.

The Delhi Express

I’m off to India this Wednesday!!
Surprised??
I’m surprised too!!
Time between deciding to go and flying off: one week.
Armed with only a plane ticket at the moment, the only other thing confirmed is who I’m traveling with. Haha.
Two WZs on an adventure trip. Boy, aren’t I excited.
10 days of culture shock. 10 days of bah-wuh. 10 days of exploration.
My new oven will have to sit pretty for a little longer now. Thanks to my impossible impulse.
Had it not been for this trip, I’d probably have started feeding everyone around with me with some weird creations already.
You lucky people, to escape potential diarrhoeas for another two weeks.
You’re not going to be that lucky after that. :P