Twelve Weeks in Delhi: Two

This week I have found it more challenging to write an update on what has been happening here in Delhi. Once the reality set in that I was here alone, I began questioning why I would choose to live here for three months - without my husband.

My week started like any other, I woke up on Monday and wondered where the weekend had gone. I had worked on both Saturday and Sunday so maybe I didn’t necessarily feel like I had an overly relaxing one. I had decided that I would start to explore my options for how to get to work each day. In Delhi, you have a lot of options to get around, however almost all of them are unpleasant.  So last week I walked, caught an auto rickshaw and caught a bus. The idea was that I would choose one that I would prefer and stick to that... The only positive thing to come out of this experience has been this blog “the commuters guide to Delhi: how not to travel to work each day”.

Travelling on the metro as a lady, certainly has it's perks. Carriage one is always "Women Only"

There are a lot of options for travel in Delhi. The best way to travel is with your own driver, however I am not sure that this would be an intelligent way to spend my money as I have no income while I am here. The metro is new, clean and relatively cheap. The first carriage on each train is reserved for women. This means that it is much less crowded than the rest of the train and unwanted attention from male commuters is avoided. The metro is also quite safe as you are required to go through security and have your bag scanned before you even swipe your ticket. There are always a few guards with machine guns deterring punters from not scanning their tickets; an effective means to reduce fare evasion! Might I add here, that the Delhi swipe card is more streamlined than Melbourne’s failed Myki system. The metro is my favourite way to get around Delhi, however there is no station near work. I am left with my three dreaded choices.

A typical auto rickshaw in Delhi. This is outside the malls in Saket - epitomising the city of contrast, gigantic malls parking BMW's in its Valet Parking, slums and broken down infrastructure litter the streets outside

Auto rickshaws are somewhat luxury when compared with walking or the bus, however they come with their challenges. Firstly, they don’t have any doors or windows and the pollution in this city is horrendous. I often have a scarf that I put over my mouth to avoid bits of ‘stuff’ getting in. More people wore face masks in Kathmandu than they do in Delhi, however I am not sure if this was because it was more polluted or people were more aware of the dangers of what was lurking in the air. The second, and most frustrating challenge of the auto rickshaw ride, is the initial haggle on price. This price depends on your skin colour, time of day, where you are going from and to, and a whole range of other variables. I know that I get charged more than the locals, but I also know that the auto rickshaw drivers are doing it tough. With fuel prices increasing dramatically, it is driving up prices but the people who use the autos are resisting the higher cost of travel. On my way to work it can be hard to get an auto so I often walk to the bus stop, wait five minutes then start walking to Malviya Nagar Metro where many autos often stop. As a white woman, the auto drivers will slow down and come right up to me if I am walking along the road. If there is an empty one, they will also come to me first over locals, mostly because they can charge me more money. It then usually requires a conversation with two, three or even four autos before you are prepared to part with your rupees. There are a few techniques that tend to work when haggling. You can offer below the expected price so you pay what you should or try whacking the meter and offer your price “or meter!!!!”. You can also just offer half of what they ask. Sometimes none of these work and you find yourself standing on the side of the road with ten autos in front of you and no ride home as they are all making it difficult. In this scenario, eventually one will meet your price. I won’t get upset about ten rupees, but I will over 50 rupees more than I should be paying. The third thing I hate about autos is the lack of safety. If we get hit, I will die.

A typical bus at the intersection on my way to work. These are the most common, followed by the 'green' buses (basically, just a newer version of these), then the 'orange' air-conditioned buses. Catching a bus as pictured above usually involves having to listen very closely to hear what people are yelling out of their windows in order to know where they are going. 

From the auto rickshaw to buses, it just gets worse. There are two types of buses that I would consider getting on and these are the green or red ones. The green buses are non-air conditioned and always crowded. The red ones are air-conditioned and were introduced around the time of the Commonwealth Games. In India, it is normal to get on the bus through the back doors; there is no interaction with the driver. Just behind the door there is a man who sits there taking money and giving tickets. For me, it is about 10 rupees a trip. The problem with the buses is that they are so overcrowded that as a woman, getting on the bus is not a pleasant experience. There are usually about ten women and the rest men - think sardines, think 30 odd degrees, think poor hygiene…. The women sit in the chairs at the front on the left hand side. It is accepted that you can shoo men off the seats if they are sitting there. It is also acceptable for women to jump on at the front of the bus, which makes buying a ticket a challenge. I have been told that I can buy a monthly ticket for around 400 rupees which would mean I could discretely jump on and off the front of the bus. I am going to give this a go this week, it is my last and only hope. What I like about the buses is that they shield you from the pollution outside, however their schedules are so unreliable that it is painful to wait for one to arrive. One evening last week I was almost in tears at the bus station whilst I waited for a bus that I was able to get onto and still maintain my dignity as a married woman. It was getting dark and Vinod (another intern) walked past and said it was probably not a good idea to wait. He flagged an auto for me and I jumped in, feeling grateful that I had been saved. As the auto driver took off I realised that something was wrong -he was trying to take me somewhere else. I yelled at him as directly and assertively as I could and despite him trying to say that it was me who was wrong, he eventually turned in the right direction. His driving was so erratic, and eyes so puffy that I concluded that he was drunk or stoned (or both). He dropped me off at the metro and I dodged cars, buses, autos, motorbike, bicycles, beggars and hustlers to get across the road where I was shaking like a leaf. It was absolutely terrifying and that was the moment when I decided that I would walk to work in the morning. Stupid move.

Somewhat fashionable in Delhi, these practical shoes were to be my favourite ride...

On Friday morning I set out in my dorky open walking shoes (which are actually very common here) and began the three kilometer trip. I was feeling excited as I haven’t done any real exercise since arriving in Delhi . Now was my time to work off all of those aloo paratha’s! By the time I passed the metro station I had already made a fundamental error that turned out to be blessing in disguise. I ran out of road and the only option was a path between two fences. Not ideal. But crossing the road was a lot easier here and I ended up on a wide footpath that stretched all the way to my next turn. When I got there, I stupidly decided to cross. It took about ten minutes in total and I ended up on the right side of the road to get to work, but the wrong side for walking. I was trekking through a partially constructed footpath where whole families were working together, sans machinery. Cars, buses and motorcycles flew past me, I was walking with the traffic and I felt very uneasy. I was hot, sweaty and my lungs were full of pollution. My feet were dirty and my jeans (another stupid move) were sticking to me with what felt like clag glue. As I turned the corner towards my office I felt relieved that I had arrived and that I would be in the comfort of air-conditioning for the rest of the day.

The only decent footpath between my house and work. The lack of traffic can not be explained - possible taken on a weekend or at 2pm when we come back from lunch.

I guess the only conclusion I can draw from my experiences of commuting in Delhi is that it is hard work. But I keep promising myself to not go the easy route and get a driver. Whilst it would not cost too much money, what makes me so much more special than everyone else? Why can everyone else get to and from work in the same conditions but I can not? While I am in Delhi want to challenge this side of who I am. To quote what my father would say in response to my anguish - “it’s character building, Erin!”.