Delhi, Thursday 31 January 2013
You'd think that drivers hired by and well known to a volunteer agency to take you around a few sights would realise what side their bread was buttered on and not try to hand you over to scammers - but apparently you'd be wrong. Or, more to the point, I was wrong about what side their bread was, in fact, buttered on.
This week, I've had two days of sightseeing as part of my induction with the volunteer agency: the sights around central Delhi on Tuesday, and then the Old Delhi area on Wednesday.
On Tuesday, I set off with Ali, who, it appears, regularly drives for Rajan. It wasn't long before he started talking about shopping. I suspected what might be about to happen (he takes me to some place where he gets a juicy commission), and tried to explain to him, in pigeon Hindi, that I was in India for two months, travelling, and couldn't buy anything as I couldn't carry anything. (Me India - two months - no shopping - no carry.) He smiled, said, 'Oh... OK,' did a u-turn and we continued on with our sights. We were visiting a few places in the central Delhi area: the Qutab Minar, the Baha'i Lotus temple, Humayun's tomb, and India Gate. He basically took me to each place, dropped me off and I met him again after going round them. It was great. I felt like a normal tourist again, milling around with all the other foreigners.
On Wednesday, Ali was taking Rajan somewhere, so I'd a new driver, Vijay. Vijay was smartly dressed in a black suit and clearly took a lot of care with his appearance, as evidenced by his rearranging of his locks as we started out. This day's tour was a few of the sights of Old Delhi: the Red Fort, Raj Ghat (where Ghandi was cremated) and Jama mosque. More about these sights later, but to continue with the juicy commission tale... all was well until we arrived at the Jama mosque. Vijay strode forth through the jumbly bazaar leading to the entrance to the mosque, confidently manoeuvring his way through the crowds, with me trying to keep up. We arrived at the top of the expansive steps at the mosque and I left my shoes with a shoekeeper. I paid the 300 rupees entrance fee (well, as I later found out, it wasn't a fee to get into the mosque grounds, per se; it was a charge for bringing in a camera), and then Vijay's outstretched arm put me in the hands of a very professional-looking middle-aged bloke, with a laminated badge with 'Staff' and his photo on it, hanging round his neck on a lanyard. I assumed this was part of the service, for the 300 rupees I'd just paid. (You know where this is going, right?!) Anyhow, he showed me round and gave me a few facts in not-very-clear English - most of which he repeated at difference points, I suppose to make it sound as though he was imparting more information than he was. I heard at least four times that this is where the women wash before prayers.
I made clear I wanted to go up the tower, from where the guidebook said you get super views around Old Delhi and beyond. He smoothed the way with some other people hanging around at the bottom of the terrace that leads to the tower, who apparently wanted me to pay a further fee to go up there. I made clear I'd already paid 300 rupees and wouldn't be paying any more. We climbed a short spiral staircase made of stone, arriving onto a terrace. At this point, the 'guide' started talking about my entrance fee. I understood him to say he wanted paid, too. I kept pointing to the tower and we made our way across the terrace to the base of it, where, you've guessed it, there were more people hanging around, seemingly hoping to squeeze a bob or two out of me. Forget it, lads. I was in no mood for it by this stage. We set off up the 100-odd steps to the top, and the views were, indeed, superb - albeit limited by the layer of smog hanging over Delhi.
He led me back to the entrance to the mosque complex, where Vijay was waiting, and asked again for his fee. I was happy to give him a tip, as he did give me a tour of sorts, albeit not very insightful, and offered him 50 rupees. No, he wanted 250 rupees. I put the 50 back in my wallet and gave off that I'd already paid 300 and if he didn't want the 50 he wasn't getting anything. I picked up my shoes from the shoekeeper and tipped him the 10 rupees advised by Vijay, by which time the 'guide' was growling, 'OK, give me 50,' and muttered something else. I could see him and Vijay snatching some quick conversation or other. To me it was pretty clear that the deal is that Vijay hands the tourists over to this guy, and then gets a cut of whatever the guide can extort out of them.
It's the way of the world in most developing countries, I guess. But, as I think I've said before, it doesn't feel good to be handed about like a piece of meat, and it was unexpected from people hired by the volunteer agency to supposedly look after you. When I raised it gently back at the ranch, Rajan's wife explained that the drivers are from a taxi firm; they don't work directly for the volunteer agency. She said if they tried to instruct the drivers not to try to take us volunteers to carpet shops, etc, none of the drivers would come! It's such an intrinsic part of their economy and income.
Anyway, about these sights. These two days I saw a different side to Delhi. It's taken me a couple of goes at Delhi to accept it and see things that I like and enjoy about it. I think it's a place it's better to dip in and out of than come for a whole week in one stint - for me, anyway, not being a great lover of cities. It has an astounding and layered history, settled for 2500 years (according to Lonely Planet, whom I credit for most of the facts herein!). Modern-day Delhi may appear to be all one big sprawl, but there have been at least eight cities founded here over those thousands of years, as one ruler gave way to the next.
The first sight I was taken to was the Qutb Minar complex. This was a great place to begin, as it dates from the start of Islamic rule in India, and lays a foundation for some of the other sights I'd visit later. The complex includes a mosque, tombs and the ruins of a madrasa as well as the Qutb Minar itself, which is a 73m high tower, started in 1193. (At that point in the UK, we'd gone through the Norman invasion and were heading into the Crusades.)
You'd think that drivers hired by and well known to a volunteer agency to take you around a few sights would realise what side their bread was buttered on and not try to hand you over to scammers - but apparently you'd be wrong. Or, more to the point, I was wrong about what side their bread was, in fact, buttered on.
This week, I've had two days of sightseeing as part of my induction with the volunteer agency: the sights around central Delhi on Tuesday, and then the Old Delhi area on Wednesday.
On Tuesday, I set off with Ali, who, it appears, regularly drives for Rajan. It wasn't long before he started talking about shopping. I suspected what might be about to happen (he takes me to some place where he gets a juicy commission), and tried to explain to him, in pigeon Hindi, that I was in India for two months, travelling, and couldn't buy anything as I couldn't carry anything. (Me India - two months - no shopping - no carry.) He smiled, said, 'Oh... OK,' did a u-turn and we continued on with our sights. We were visiting a few places in the central Delhi area: the Qutab Minar, the Baha'i Lotus temple, Humayun's tomb, and India Gate. He basically took me to each place, dropped me off and I met him again after going round them. It was great. I felt like a normal tourist again, milling around with all the other foreigners.
On Wednesday, Ali was taking Rajan somewhere, so I'd a new driver, Vijay. Vijay was smartly dressed in a black suit and clearly took a lot of care with his appearance, as evidenced by his rearranging of his locks as we started out. This day's tour was a few of the sights of Old Delhi: the Red Fort, Raj Ghat (where Ghandi was cremated) and Jama mosque. More about these sights later, but to continue with the juicy commission tale... all was well until we arrived at the Jama mosque. Vijay strode forth through the jumbly bazaar leading to the entrance to the mosque, confidently manoeuvring his way through the crowds, with me trying to keep up. We arrived at the top of the expansive steps at the mosque and I left my shoes with a shoekeeper. I paid the 300 rupees entrance fee (well, as I later found out, it wasn't a fee to get into the mosque grounds, per se; it was a charge for bringing in a camera), and then Vijay's outstretched arm put me in the hands of a very professional-looking middle-aged bloke, with a laminated badge with 'Staff' and his photo on it, hanging round his neck on a lanyard. I assumed this was part of the service, for the 300 rupees I'd just paid. (You know where this is going, right?!) Anyhow, he showed me round and gave me a few facts in not-very-clear English - most of which he repeated at difference points, I suppose to make it sound as though he was imparting more information than he was. I heard at least four times that this is where the women wash before prayers.
I made clear I wanted to go up the tower, from where the guidebook said you get super views around Old Delhi and beyond. He smoothed the way with some other people hanging around at the bottom of the terrace that leads to the tower, who apparently wanted me to pay a further fee to go up there. I made clear I'd already paid 300 rupees and wouldn't be paying any more. We climbed a short spiral staircase made of stone, arriving onto a terrace. At this point, the 'guide' started talking about my entrance fee. I understood him to say he wanted paid, too. I kept pointing to the tower and we made our way across the terrace to the base of it, where, you've guessed it, there were more people hanging around, seemingly hoping to squeeze a bob or two out of me. Forget it, lads. I was in no mood for it by this stage. We set off up the 100-odd steps to the top, and the views were, indeed, superb - albeit limited by the layer of smog hanging over Delhi.
He led me back to the entrance to the mosque complex, where Vijay was waiting, and asked again for his fee. I was happy to give him a tip, as he did give me a tour of sorts, albeit not very insightful, and offered him 50 rupees. No, he wanted 250 rupees. I put the 50 back in my wallet and gave off that I'd already paid 300 and if he didn't want the 50 he wasn't getting anything. I picked up my shoes from the shoekeeper and tipped him the 10 rupees advised by Vijay, by which time the 'guide' was growling, 'OK, give me 50,' and muttered something else. I could see him and Vijay snatching some quick conversation or other. To me it was pretty clear that the deal is that Vijay hands the tourists over to this guy, and then gets a cut of whatever the guide can extort out of them.
It's the way of the world in most developing countries, I guess. But, as I think I've said before, it doesn't feel good to be handed about like a piece of meat, and it was unexpected from people hired by the volunteer agency to supposedly look after you. When I raised it gently back at the ranch, Rajan's wife explained that the drivers are from a taxi firm; they don't work directly for the volunteer agency. She said if they tried to instruct the drivers not to try to take us volunteers to carpet shops, etc, none of the drivers would come! It's such an intrinsic part of their economy and income.
Anyway, about these sights. These two days I saw a different side to Delhi. It's taken me a couple of goes at Delhi to accept it and see things that I like and enjoy about it. I think it's a place it's better to dip in and out of than come for a whole week in one stint - for me, anyway, not being a great lover of cities. It has an astounding and layered history, settled for 2500 years (according to Lonely Planet, whom I credit for most of the facts herein!). Modern-day Delhi may appear to be all one big sprawl, but there have been at least eight cities founded here over those thousands of years, as one ruler gave way to the next.
The first sight I was taken to was the Qutb Minar complex. This was a great place to begin, as it dates from the start of Islamic rule in India, and lays a foundation for some of the other sights I'd visit later. The complex includes a mosque, tombs and the ruins of a madrasa as well as the Qutb Minar itself, which is a 73m high tower, started in 1193. (At that point in the UK, we'd gone through the Norman invasion and were heading into the Crusades.)
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| Grover at the Qutb Minar |
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| One of the tombs in the Qutb Minar complex |
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| Grover again, with the tomb building behind |
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| Beautiful parrots (parakeets?) in the grounds of the Qutb Minar |
After that, it was time to switch religions and come back up to the mid Eighties. We headed for the Lotus Temple, where people of the Bahai faith worship. As Lonely Planet says, its shape is of an unfurling white lotus flower, but it was the Sydney Opera House that sprang to mind for me! It was very well organised, which helped greatly given the large crowds who'd come to visit - most visibly large school groups, with children in their various uniforms. A broad path leads up to the temple, through a beautiful park. As you get closer, you see it's surrounded by pools, like a lotus flower floating in a lake. Up the steps to the entrance, and there are stewards organising us into lines. They give us a short introduction in Hindi and English, before letting us file in. You're welcome, they said, to stay and pray or meditate as long as you wanted, in whatever religion you belonged to. My own stay was only five minutes or so - time enough to sit and have a good look around inside its equalled white and scalloped interior - as I'd arranged a time to meet the driver.
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| A school group visiting the Lotus temple |
After the modern tranquility of the Bahai, I was taken back in time again, returning to the era of Islamic rule in Delhi. Humayun's tomb dates from the mid 1500s. Humayun was the second of the Mughal emperors, who'd come to India from Persia (Iran). It was built by one of Humayun's wives. These tombs became more and more grand as time went on, with each generation outdoing the next, until we finally ended up with the Taj Mahal in Agra, not far from Delhi. What struck me most about these Islamic buildings was how they captured and reflected light in their buildings, with intricate patterns carved into stone panels for windows (see pic below).
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| Humayun's tomb |
We finished off with India Gate, which reminded me of Paris's Arc de Triomphe. It honours India's war dead, and is at one end of a long avenue, the Rajpath, which leads up to the parliament buildings. I didn't have time walk along it... that'll be for my return to Delhi in March.
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| India Gate - a memorial to India's war dead |
'Two rupees each letter!' she announced, holding out the bracelet. Hmmm. I got a feel for where this particular business model was going. With four letters, it was still only eight rupees. Bearing in mind there are 88 rupees in a British pound, we're not talking high finance here - but there's a principle of fair business at any level, surely! I protested half-heartedly, and gave her ten rupees. But no, the ten rupees disappeared into her pocket and she announced that the other beads on the bracelet also had to be paid for. 'Ten rupees more!' she chattered. I was half amused and half feeling cheated, albeit for such a low amount, and gave her some more coins. Her little chums joined in and there a bit of a commotion. An Indian tourist, an older woman, came over to facilitate. She encouraged the girl to give me the bracelet, but she wasn't happy! Anyway, I got it in the end, without parting with any more money. I'd have happily paid her 50 rupees or whatever if that had been the asking price from the beginning. But how to explain to her that it really wasn't necessary to run her wee business as a swindle...?
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| The little girl who made me a bracelet - serious business! |
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