A traveler’s eye

After missing the backstreet where my hotel was at for a few times, I found a way to identify Chandi Walan Street among the many backstreets around the Main Bazaar, looking for a Chai stand with a bunch of men surrounding it. And made no mistake these men were lining up for the Chai. There’s a urinal right next to the stand and these men were waiting to relieve themselves, right next to the Chai stand, in the street. Later I found out the Chai offered to me by a travel agent and a jewelry shop owner was all from this stand. They said it was the best. And the taste was really not bad, I had to say. Welcome to India.

The road was broken and seemed impassable for the vehicles with all the crowds and with cows wondering around. All rickshaws and motorcycles insisted to push their way forward. And they enjoyed honking at every movable thing. Sometimes they all honked at the same time when there’s no sign of moving. Some loud and harsh, some low and deep. To distinguish their own horn, some drivers pressed the button really long and some pressed it really fast. It was a symphony of honks. Except no one seem to be alerted by the sounds.

Pedestrians kept finding their ways among the vehicles. A rickshaw almost run over a man. The brake gave out a shriek sound. The man reeled a little, looking back and kept on going without saying a word, nor did the rickshaw driver.

A clamor broke out somewhere near the New Delhi train station. A young India man with hands full of bags just stepped into the maze of the Bazaar. He was greeted by restaurants and hotel touts, as well as street vendors. No one was pulling or dragging, but everyone was making the gesture of invitation while yelling something. The poor guy seemed to be totally lost. Standing under the yellow street light, he stayed unmoved for a long time. A first timer in big city and a street full of seductions, it looked like a perfect beginning of a Bollywood movie.