My second trip to India but first to Delhi. This time obtaining a visa was easier as I had learned the Indian requirements the hard way last time I had been. I turned up with all the relevant letters, proof of inside leg measurement and blood pressure (ok I made that last bit up) and two hours later had a visa.

 

Funnily enough when I got to the Indian High Commission it hadn’t opened and I was stood in a long line of applicants. Parked at the side of the road (illegally) was a large Mercedes and I remember thinking that we would all be in trouble if it contained a bomb. Hours later I learned that two such cars had been parked in Central London that day (admittedly not this car).

 

After the car incidents and a bomb attempt  on the airport at Glasgow I expected high security at Heathrow, but when trusty Paul dropped me at Heathrow I was checked in and through security in 15 minutes (though at  7.30 am on a Saturday Terminal 4 is relatively quiet). Bought my wife some perfume, changed some money into Rupees and off to the lounge. Uneventful hour or so until the flight was called, and off to board the plane.

 I could tell this was going to be a grim flight. Clearly there must have been the World Obnoxious Child championships in Delhi that week, and the British contingent seemed very strong. My wife and I refrained from flying when our kids were very young out of consideration for others, a gesture sadly not reciprocated here.

 

Interesting argument in front of me. An Asian  woman with three noisy children (they were annoying, but not championship obnoxious material) was sat there and had been joined by her mother. Someone else came along and pointed out that the older woman was in their seat. The cabin crew tried to explain to the grandmother that her daughter and kids had been upgraded to the front of  Premium Economy so she would have room to change nappies etc. , but that this upgrade did not apply to ageing mothers. The old woman tried a temporary sit-down strike before she was finally prevailed upon to move.

 

Take off was delayed as not enough cabin crew had  turned up so they had to send out for more. It’s really annoying to get to the airport 3 hours before a flight and then be  delayed because the staff can’t turn up.

 

Fairly nondescript flight apart from the Obnoxious Kids getting in some training for the big event, and finally landed at 10.30pm in Delhi. Longish wait for bags, and then the tense moment as I walked out hoping to see a sign with my name on it. I really didn’t want to find my own way that late at night. Thankfully a tall man in a crisp white Chauffeur’s uniform was there and just before midnight I was in the hotel foyer. I tried to check in but on consulting my reservation the desk clerk said I had an executive room, and that  he would need to take me to the 7^th floor to check in. Tired from the flight I asked if we could spare the fuss, but apparently you get the executive treatment whether you want it or not, so together with 3 staff I was frog marched to an empty lounge on the 7^th floor, where they checked me in. I was told that they served complimentary drinks and snacks from 5-8pm in this lounge (of little use as I would not be back before then).

 

Unpacked and went down to get some food. It was gone midnight local time but because of the time difference I knew I would not sleep yet. Back upstairs to watch some TV, which consisted of Bollywood, American wrestling and cricket reruns.

 

Awoke about 9am and down to breakfast. I was running a training event  on the Monday so had decided I didn’t want to land late and start first thing next day, so I had a day to relax. Back to my room to collect a book (housekeeping had already made it up) and out to read by the pool. I managed about 15 minutes before the heat and the flies convinced me it was  a good idea to go inside.

 

The hotel gave me a complimentary English language newspaper, and I was interested to read an entire pull out section of the newspaper which was given over to advertisements of families advertising for arranged marriages. Given that my wife would either have to die or divorce me I looked at the divorced/widowed section. I wouldn’t fancy my chances.

 

Spent a pleasant morning doing a little work and reading, until about 2 o’ clock I went down to get some lunch. The restaurant was heaving and I was told there was no table, and no prospect of a table for hours. Given the hotel was remote and there was no alternative, I asked what I was supposed to do to eat. “I suggest you try room service” was the reply. Helpful. The room service meal was awful.

Incredible drive to the office on Monday. You need to really know where the edges of your car are, as there is no lane discipline, and vehicle swerve at zero notice to avoid pedestrians, cyclists, motorcycles, rickshaw taxis, and of course, cows and buffalo. Interestingly, many cars have only one wing mirror, and some drivers, worried about losing them, simply fold them in while driving, reducing them to purely decorative status.

 

Another key qualification is virtuoso use of the car horn- by comparison Italians are strictly “largo” to the Indian “allegro”.

 

The traffic along MG Road was regularly bottlenecked due to the construction of the Delhi Metro, and it was a great opportunity to see the contrasts of India. Makeshift shelters made by extending a sheet of tarpaulin from a wall. Roadside stalls offering a range of dubious produce, beggars and hawkers, illegally constructed buildings condemned to demolition. A particularly poignant site was a small family with dad digging a  trench, while mum was breastfeeding a small child, and digging with her other hand, while trying to keep an eye on her two small toddlers playing on the road.

Another mum brushed her teeth while sitting with her toddlers in the middle of a traffic island.

 

Finally arrived in Gurgaon, a booming city with a mix of gleaming buildings and construction sites.

 

One thing that struck me was the cheapness of labour. In the office there were a whole bunch of folks to do very menial tasks, including one guy whose job it was to come around and take orders for coffee (naturally I was in heaven). Good day running the training, including  a sweaty lunch in the food court next door to our building. The heat from the kitchens, crush of bodies and spicy curries was good for perspiration.

 

Back to the hotel about 7.30, so looks like I could have 30 minutes in the “executive lounge”. The guy who ran the lounge had made the mistake of asking a vociferous German resident what he thought of the service. The German started a tirade at top volume detailing every fault with the hotel (he’d had the same result at lunch as I’d had).

 

It was interesting to see how the hotel staff dealt with him. The lounge manager (lizard?) apologised and went to get his boss, who apologised and went in turn to get his boss. All three in turn listened and groveled as the German guy repeated his litany of complaints (though the German was getting increasingly bored each time). The hotel culture seemed to be that the management would take their browbeating and apologise profusely, but there seemed to be no intent on anyone’s part to improve things. “We’ll grovel but don’t expect us to change anything” seemed to be the motto.

 

Interesting drive to the office next day. One thing I noticed was the number of motor cycles where a woman was riding behind sitting sidesaddle. Whereas the male driver usually wore a crash helmet, the lady invariably did not. “One must assume that Indian ladies have very hard heads” I said to my colleague. (Actually when I talked about this over dinner with a colleague from the office, she suggested that in many cases it was a vanity thing, and that many did it from choice, as  a crash helmet would mess up their hair. Guess I have to believe her but it seemed a strange prioritization to me.

 

I was amused by  a small conversation en route. There are all manner of roadside stalls, and I saw an enterprising man equipped with a chair and a pair of scissors running a hair cutting business (you would have to be brave to have it cut when you can’t see what the outcome is as there was no mirror to show you). I pointed it out to my colleague, who suggested (quite disingenuously) that  his overheads would be low, and didn’t understand when I laughed and pointed out that one expected low(er) overheads when getting one’s hair cut.

 

Arrived at the office to discover my Indian colleague had been called away due to a family emergency. Continued with my meeting with my colleagues from Hong Kong and Singapore.

 

That evening again our host needed to be with his family, but had arranged for us to visit the famous Baha’i temple in Delhi. It’s colloquially called the “Lotus Temple” as it’s built in the shape of a lotus flower, and it’s really beautiful. We had an embarrassing hitch- the plan had been to go inside, but this required removing our shoes, and Barry mentioned that expensive shoes sometimes get stolen. I was wearing new and expensive trainers, and the others expensive shoes too.  so we decided not to risk it.

 

As we walked back to the car we were beset by street vendors. This is a real problem in India. These vendors really have to hustle, and are used to haggling. This is a real problem as they assume that any refusal is just a bargaining position- they don’t ever grasp the idea that you might not want their product under any circumstances. One guy tried very hard to sell me a model motorcycle made by sculpting a long single piece of wire. In its way it was skillfully made but I wasn’t interested.

 

When you finally say “no”, these guys up the psychological pressure by standing silently and accusingly, trying to make you feel bad, relent and buy their stuff. Being the Caucasian Western European I was singled out for special psychological pressure.

 

The driver had been instructed to take us to a restaurant. We drove at length around a very rough looking disreputable suburb. The driver pulled up by a very dodgy looking roadside stall. “Is this it?” said Barry to the driver, but it turns out the driver had merely stopped for directions.

 

The second day was funny. We had eaten at a small restaurant next to the office. I love Indian food so I was very happy, but my other visiting colleagues were less happy and asked to go to a local pizza restaurant. I caused considerable consternation with my colleagues when I drank tap water instead of bottled.

 

On the second evening we were driven to the government section of Delhi and looked at the colonial buildings and the very beautiful India Gate. After a humid day there was a torrential storm, and it was interesting to see people coming out to enjoy getting soaked in the warm rain.

 

We finished the meeting on Friday, and  as we waited for our car I was hassled by a couple of kids who were trained to beg piteously from the caucasian people. Our Indian colleague took us into Connaught place (Delhi’s version of Oxford Street in London). Or first stop was bar in a complex called “PiccaDelhi” (sorry, I’m only reporting this), and after a drink we went to a restaurant, or so we thought. In the street again I again was a prime  target for all the beggars and street sellers (and I think pickpockets at one point) while my Asian colleagues were largely ignored.

 

 Turned out Sunil our host had been misinformed, the restaurant was full but we tried the adjacent bar. This proved very amusing. A DJ was playing west coast music quietly in the background.

 

After a few minutes he cranked up the sound and switched to disco. The clientele of this bar was 90% male and obviously business folk, and it seemed that they were keen to catch the eyes of the far rarer ladies, so we watched this large number of guys doing their best John Travolta with the ladies eying the “talent” from around the edges, an interesting reversal of the normal state of affairs in a UK club. Reverse disco- I think it could catch on. I would have liked to stay and see what happened next, but we had planes to catch.

 

After dinner, goodbye to my colleagues and an hour’s ride to the airport. Security very tight but overall the airport very efficient. Tiring to stay awake to catch a 2am flight, but finally able to sleep. After the brilliant sunshine and heat of India, back to a chilly and cloudy Heathrow, and a jet-lagged Saturday.