Our Life in Delhi, First few weeks in Delhi, India, July 13-30, on John ki Jaan

First few weeks in Delhi, India – July 13–30, 2007

Good ol’ Air India never fails to disappoint.

If you are wondering why we chose AI, it wasn’t choice but sheer compulsion—cheapest one-way fare to Delhi. The plane was a real old geyser, with even older stewardesses, but surprisingly good service and cleaner than expected toilets.

Let me explain—this is the 4th (and last!) time I have flown Air India, and at least one bathroom has clogged up on every previous flight I have taken, not to mention the fumes emanating from the bathrooms at periodic intervals. Compared to the past, this was lap-of-luxury travel!

However, AI did not disappoint. To keep up with tradition, there was no audio and video service, but I was in the world of Harry Potter so couldn’t care less. Food was irritatingly bad; why would anyone in their right minds not give naan/roti (Indian breads) with Indian food?!? Alas, this was substituted with spongy, tasteless white rolls. So the journey began on a puzzling note.

Delhi Int’l Airport and journey home.

So here I am all excited at seeing Delhi city lights from the plane window, but then John points to the incredible thunder and lightening in the distant horizon. All happy thoughts quickly dissipate. At the best of times I am not a great traveler, but the storm totally freaked me out.

However, thanks to John’s soothing and comforting explanation of how and why we were safe in the plane (at this point, anything he said to make me feel better would be believable!), I was calmer. It did look incredible though.

Driver missing. We breezed through immigration and customs. However, much to my chagrin, there was no sign of the designated driver sent by my dad (I insisted he send a cab and not come himself—too late at nite for any sane human being to wait for family arrivals at the airport). [Usually we are greeted by garlands and flowers and the whole extended clan—just kidding!].

My dad had even shown the driver a picture of John and me and given him a placard with our names, but clearly, the driver had more interesting things to do than wait endlessly picking his nose like the rest of the waiting drivers. I walked up and down 3–4 times but no sign of him.

I tried to borrow a cell phone from another passenger, and he looked at me at though I was mad. I tried to get change to call my dad from a payphone, but people hang on to loose change like it is a rare commodity! Never quite understood this.

I turned around to see John had begun bargaining with a cab driver. I, in my attempt to rescue him from the sharks, barged in and asked the cabby how much he was asking for and said that is fine (not knowing that John had bargained him down to Rs. 100 less than what I was happy with!).

After grilling the cab driver and seeing his license and asking him who he was affiliated with, I felt slightly more reassured until we stepped out in the rain and half a dozen men descended on our strolley to help with the luggage! I was as aggressive as I could be so they backed off a bit.

Finally we were in the car (they managed to squeeze 4 suitcases into a tiny car with little effort). Of course, the driver, sweet old man with thick spectacles (not very reassuring!), took some convoluted route to avoid traffic lights and traffic.

Flooded roads and minimal visibility got me convinced that we would either die a crushing death or be stuck in 2 feet of water in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully we got to my parents’ place in one piece.