Arriving in India on Thanksgiving Day was a shock to the senses.  After ultra-new, monied Dubai, Delhi provided an entirely different experience.  After 24 hours of feeling like I was back in middle school (the highs were higher, the lows were lower), I came to the following sketch of Delhi.

The Good

Like many places, Delhi has clogged roads.  Though surprisingly, they were not as bad as I expected due to the construction of a metro that has taken 1.650 buses off the roads since it opened in 2002 and increased average road speed by 4 km/hour (roughly 2.4 mph).   This metro, which has inspired similar projects in cities across India, has helped reduce pollution by 30% (though I shudder to think of what it was like before the metro).  Also helping to keep the air relatively clean is the use of CNG (Clean Natural Gas) in the many rickshaws trawling the streets.  Small, maneuverable, and mildly terrifying, the rickshaws are a favorite mode of transportation for groups of 2-4 people.  Many of the rickshaws have CNG written on the back, signifying that they are now running on this clean natural gas, helping to ease the clogging of the air.

Another aspect of Delhi, and India in general, that I would categorize as good (better yet, great, or mesmerizing) is the quality of light.  For some reason, perhaps because of the pollution, objects seems to be lit not by the sun, but perhaps by the air around them.  This results in a tremendously warm light at many points throughout the day and oddly illuminated objects.  Coupled with the colors of the area– brightly painted objects and colored fabrics– the effect is entrancing.

The Bad

The tourism industry in India relies heavily on touts.  At first this is entertaining, even interesting, as people on the streets approach tourists to talk them into visiting a particular shop, or even tourism office.  However, when a thirty minute walk turns into two hours because of seemingly helpful young men who offer help you to untangle the maze of Delhi streets (that does NOT correspond to a map) by then directing you to a store or tour office, it becomes downright frustrating, and negates sightseeing as a reason for being in Delhi altogether.  During one particular excursion, Ed and I were approached by at least six men, all of whom “weren’t selling anything” but were adamant that we visit a particular tourism agency.  It got to the point where we could not escape– we were being followed by almost every do-gooder to ensure that we did not get lost on the way to the tourism office.  According to those in Delhi, there is nothing to see except the tourism office… 

Add to this scenario unrelenting traffic.  Traffic that makes no sense– that uses the lines on the road as suggestions to be discarded the moment a constantly shape-shifting free space into which to maneuver makes itself available.  This goes for turning too.  There is no planning ahead, no switching into the right lane if one wants to make a right-hand turn.  Instead, the strategy seems to be to get as close to the intersection as possible and then aggressively weave your way through the dozens of other cars, rickshaws, bicycles, camels, etc utilizing the same exact strategy.  And one must honk ones horn the entire time.  Depending on my mood this alternates between entertaining and ridiculous.

The Ugly

India is poor.  It is a type of poverty that I have not seen before– not in Romania where I stayed with a family with no running hot water and that cooked over a fire in the backyard, nor in Georgia, where the center of the city surrounding the new cathedral has unpaved roads and similar living conditions to that in Romania.  In India, the poverty is a combination of desperation, acceptance, and disrespect that makes me resent myself and the people I see.

My first impression was in Pahar Ganj–not exactly the nicest section of Delhi.  It houses a lot of budget hotels and as such had an odd mix of abject poverty and tourism.  Unlike other parts of Delhi, the poverty is more open and less controlled.  The morning I arrived, tiny fires of garbage burned haphazardly in the streets– not moved to one side, no system of trying to contain the rubbish burning to a specific place, to tidy it perhaps.  To me this seemed to be tantamount to embracing the poverty, rather than rising above it.  Perhaps this is true, or perhaps it is just part of the chaotic nature of Indian life where order isn’t necessarily aspired to…

What really bothered me, however, was the disrespect with which most citizens (mainly male) treat their city.  Spitting is constant (perhaps due to the pollution), as is littering, as is peeing wherever, whenever, by anyone male. Despite the existence of “public conveniences” (restrooms) it seems that many men prefer to relieve themselves in the streets, in broad daylight, even in nicer sections of town dressed in nice pants and a button-down shirt. 

Poverty may be out of a lot of people’s control, but how one responds to that poverty and chooses to live within it is controllable.  In my opinion, adding to the rank conditions and constant reek of sewer in one’s home is within one’s control..  And choosing to do so is ugly in the worst sense of the word.

India is a captivating country, and seems to reward those who are able to look past the surface grime and close their ears to touts. The chaos is frustrating and enlivening and with constant splashes of color, amazing food, and foreign animals, architecture and fruit, it is easy to feel small again, trying to decipher the world around you.