My last day in the megafuck that is India. All the previous days spent there had been nothing short of insane, psychotic. But this day was to sum everything up.
Arriving in Delhi, my only day there, I was slapped straight into the madhouse. Rolling around Old Delhi, I witnessed hundreds of people sleeping on the streets, whole home stories, carried out merely inches away from each other. The poverty was crushing. A man begged me to be his friend and I gave him my time. After a while he begged me for money. So I gave him my best shirt. But it was too thick. It’ll get sold. Wanting to get out of the poverty, I hitched a rickshaw, and told him to take me somewhere nice. He took me to generic malls, in between pit stops of creamy sugarcane juice drinks breaks on the side of the road. I had enough. It was time to pay him, but my card was rejected by ten ATM’s. The air grew angry.
After two hours, I asked him to stop by a Public Call Office so I could call my bank in the UK to get my card unblocked. Half way during the call, the owner of the PCO hung up the phone and demanded money. I told him the phone call was the money. He transformed into a monster. He began screaming fraud and the rickshaw driver was screaming. Being India, a crowd of fifty people surrounded me. The police came and arrested me. I thought I was going to miss my flight.
Then being India, an angel appeared. A random man approached the police car and paid off all my bills. I was free. A local family who owned a photo shop saw it all and took me in. They fed me tea and biscuits and I helped with his son’s CV. His son took me home and let me shower and change, and he cooked me a meal whilst we watched Indian talent shows and talked about girls. We went shopping in the local market and made dinner at the shop. The whole family waved me off at the shop and his Dad drove me to the airport on his bike and cried when he saw me off. They all saved me that day.
India is the extreme of good and bad
This post was written by Guy Bennett