New Delhi

Thanking Raja and his family for having me over for three days, I left to Delhi by afternoon. Just after crossing the Toll gate, I heard some noise and to my horror, the Silencer bend pipe had come off the engine. Luckily for me, I had not yet taken the flyover leading to Chanakya Puri, my destination for the night. The mechanic who had seen my bike the previous day was close by and I rode straight into his garage. There I got my silencer replaced and fine-tuned my bike once more before heading to the Youth Hotel, riding past all the foreign embassies and state offices. Since it was located in the diplomatic enclave, there was pin drop silence on the road and very meagre traffic on the well laid tarmac. On showing my membership card I was given a dormitory for Rs.275/night. The place was neatly maintained and I was honestly surprised how organised things were. There was a German couple at the counter, who were told that a guy and a girl cannot stay together in a room. I still remember the shock on their faces, and felt sorry for them. At my dorm there were some 10 bunk beds in a two tier fashion. There were a few others staying there and to my surprise I was the only traveller there and to top it, none of the others held a Youth Hostel International membership card even. In fact they seemed to be surprised asking what a traveller was doing there. Two of them were lawyers, one an artisan and two others had come for a presentation. One of the lawyer guy sported an orange tikka on his forehead and started asking about my religion just after the introduction formalities. It made me very uncomfortable. When I told him that I do not practice any religion, he did not understand but clearly seemed offended. I get this kick when I flummox people, for not being what they expect me to be. The other lawyer guy seemed to be a nice person boasting of many high level connections. He told me that he was on the main counsel team defending A Raja, the ex-telecom Minister languishing in the prison for the 2G scam. Was wondering why then was he staying in a dormitory for 300 bucks a night? The artisan guy was from Madhya Pradesh and he had a bachelor’s degree in Architecture. He informed me that he had come to perform in front of a panel which issued grants for certain native arts forms which were fading with time. I remember him telling me that it was similar to Poi Kaal Kuthirai which was prevalent in Tamil Nadu. Apart from these interesting characters, there were two other guys who had come to attend a seminar as part of the ‘Landmark’ course, which was a self-development program. One of them was a veteran while his friend a novice who had joined the program only a few months earlier. The latter was very enthusiastic and kept telling me about how it can improve your life and ‘take communication to the next level’. Although Ive heard about this ‘Landmark’ thingy from my friends earlier, I pretended as if I didn’t know anything and kept asking him questions. There are a lot of good things one can learn from these programs, but to see people blinded by the thought that your life will change overnight, is very disheartening. The next day I decided to hit Karol Bagh to shop for some spares and thermals. I have seen GP road in Chennai and JC Street in Bangalore, but this was something else. Since there would be limited access to fuel stations in Ladakh, I replaced my stock petrol tank with a larger one (20 litres). Raingear and thermals were found in a different area in Karol Bagh and as I proceeded to leave the place, I got totally lost and it had just started raining too. After going round and round, I managed to reach the hostel by around 10 pm. Lesson learnt- never go to Karol Bagh in your own vehicle, parking is next to impossible! The next day I had to leave early to reach Chandigarh.