Distressed in Delhi

Jaipur to Delhi at 4:30pm on the February 1st was by far the most uncomfortable train journey of both our lives. We boarded without note, easily locating our two empty seats beside a tidy, well to do looking young woman. But as the minutes drew closer towards our departure, the crowds swept in like a tide of disaster crashing against the dilapidated walls of the dented train and those sitting obliviously inside. It turns out that purchasing a ticket on busy government trains is utterly futile, as perhaps beyond 80% of those cramming in besides, under and on top of you will, most likely, not have bothererd. A rotund couple pressed in close and the woman muscled in resolutely besides Jack, smiling vacantly, causing the mass of bodies atop our 3 people bench to undulate precariously over the sides with each inhabitant occupying a slither of surface to rest a butt cheek or drape and outer thigh with uncomfortable and constant shuffling. The male component of the offensive couple removed his shoes and hoisted a moist foot up onto the bench beside me aiming his crotch menancingly in my direction as I nestled with growing animosity beneath his dank armpit. The impassive ticket collector threaded lazily through the crowds in a bewilderingly hollow attempt to collect official documentation from any person who bothered to lethargically display their ticket, much to the collector's slightly begrudging exertion. Within no more than 5 minutes or so, and with demonstrative distainful scowls, Jack and I ascended into the rafters, shuffling bags and blankets to cramp into the foot and a half of space afforded to the upper berth seats 3 storeys high. Even here we were soon bombarded with ticket evading miscreants, but we staunchly protected our purchased seats and managed to stretch out our legs to the other side providing some respite for our stiffening knees. The 5 turned 6 and a half hour journey was spent in this manner, disappearing from our swealtering, crippling reality into a continuous array of films masterfully installed on my tablet before Jack brought it out for me. Amidst the odiferous musk of the mass of sardined bodies, and the audacious clangor of the tinny Hindi music played by the hateful smarmy boy opposite us on his phone, there were small and unwarranted vitriolic reverberations between Jack and I as each tried to convey, curb or counteract the growing irascibility that bubbled dangerously below the surface. 

We eventually arrived in Delhi at 11pm, to brutal wall of callous rickshaw drivers. Given the dispute in Jaipur followed by the testing train journey, our energy stores were dangerously depleted and we were becoming hard pushed to fight our way out of a paper bag. Like a night in shining armour, or more accurtely: a trendy Delhi-ite in a large puffer jacket, Arman arrived on the scene to guide us on our way. Attracted by our expressions of dilapidated dispair, he shooed off the treacherous taxi drivers who were trying to strip us abominably of our final rupees, and marched us to the booking office demanding a fair price for our 4km journey. My eyes were disappearing behind tears of relief and gratitude as he warmly bid us farewell, masterfully restoring our faith in fellow man in the nick of time. 

We turned off a main road to face a meretricious mash of hotel signs hanging blindingly down over a small alley cram packed with hotels. The garish Grand Godwit reception was a welcome refuge to our worn out weary forms, and we retreated upstairs to our room ready for a steady flow of room service and relaxation. The room was the most pristine we'd stayed in the whole month with epic facilities, elegant accents, and a freakin' power shower with wall jets and unlimited hot water! We were in a moody marble heaven. The only time we ventured out was to attempt to see the sunset with cocktails on a sky scraper, which turned out to be a huge disaster with more taxi man debarcles, Jack actually having to single-handedly haul an autorickshaw out of a hole in the road and a long and fruitless drive around the whole of town. After a quick stop in a busy mall, which was like stepping into a  blinding futuristic labyrinth of windows and lights giving our shopping preferences of the month, to replensih my underwear stores having left my skimpies dangled alluringly over the balcony of our recent lodgings in Jairpur, we quickly scarpered back to our room and enjoyed more room services and the buffet breakfast the next morning before we headed to the airport.

Saying goodbye in strange lands was appropriately abominable. Every indelible second flashed before our eyes as we struggled to accept it was over so seemingly fast whilst marvelling at the flavoursome amount we'd crammed into only a month just like a fragrant and turgid, hot samosa. Having a co-pilot for the month was, besides utterly essential as it turned out, endlessly ethereal. As sturdy as Rambo, and as funny as Leslie Neilsen, I will miss my travel buddy immensely. Words cannot describe. Seeing such a bewildering  country through two sets of eyes has the blissful dual benefits of enhancing appreciation of the beautiful colours and warm souls in circulation, whilst rose tinting the grimier corners and dubious encounters with a sumlime shield of humour and jest.

Oh well, alone into the fray I go.. 

Oh S#!t.