The taxi picked me up from the hotel around five in the morning while Delhi was still swathed in mist. I wanted to be on time to catch the 06,15 Shatabdi express to Lucknow. The Shatabdi is supposed to be an upmarket, relatvely fast train stopping at few stations, that should get you to Lucknow in about six hours. From the moment the train pulls out, you are plied with cups of tea and a mediochre hindu breakfast. Whilst the train chugs out of the capital and you are munching on a vegetarian snack, you are treated to the sight of scores of indians, squatting along the length of the railway line, taking their matutine shit. Try to imagine the picture, you, dipping your indian rail chapati into an unpleasantly brown and viscous dahl, observing the locals treat you to their evacuations whilst waving and giving you the thumbs up as you pass by. The oddest thing was that when the train slowed to practically walking pace, or in some parts would actually stop; these people would hold there hands out in a begging gesture without even getting up. I wondered if they actually expected passengers to hop off the train to leave them a small deposit, whilst they left their own. The train picked up speed and the rows of turding indians made way to ploughing buffalos for mile after mile. After about half an hour of this, I was able to doze off until Lucknow. Around 3pm we arrived at the impressive, gothic style 'Lucknow junction'. I took my time strolling the platform towards the exit, mentally preparing myself for what was expecting me outside the station. What awaits outside is a demented hoard of screaming taxi drivers in front of their ambassadors and rickshaws, trying to grab you and/or your belongings and drag you to their vehicle and from then, on to a hotel where they will receive a comission. Right at the back of this horde of male banshees was a driver making no effort to tout for trade, picking away at his fingernails. That's the chap for me I decided. I turned the metre long rucksack, which was full of my tea, lengthways using it in the form of a roman shield. The Lowepro safely strapped to my back, I bulldozed my way through the noisy crowd of drivers who started to berate me as I cut a swathe through them using the'maddog bergen manouvre', which they we're obviously not aware of its existence.I asked him if he was taking a rest or if he could take me to 'the golden orchid'. I was greeted at the steps of the hotel by a charming young lady in a sari who informed me that she had a reservation in my name. " I know", I replied. " I rang you last night to make it ". A very peculiar encounter I thought. I told the driver on the way to the hotel that I would be requiring his services for half a day, but that most of it would be waiting. We agreed on a price and while he waited in the hotel car park I dashed upstairs to my room to give some sort of shape to my rolled up cardboard boxes and load them with the delhi goods. It was four o clock.This meant I had an hour and a half to change some cash, get my boxes wrapped and sewed by a tailor and get to the GPO, before it closed at half past five. With the aid of a razor blade and a roll of wide tape, I had both boxes shaped, packed and sealed in twenty minutes. I threw them into the back of the ambassador and told the driver to take me to the nearest official money changer to the post office. Imagine my delight after being stuck in traffic for nearly half an hour to find that not only was there a western union next to the main building, but that outside was a handful of professional 'sewers and sealers' that for 300 rupees(each box) would have the both of them clothwrapped and wax sealed in twenty minutes. I had managed to change two hundred euros and was patiently waiting their final stitches before grabbing both boxes and heading for the tourist parcel counter. I got to the taxi, whose driver was deep in conversation with a security guard and sat next to the driver's seat with the lowepro on my knees, sweating and exhausted at 18,15. I told him that once he dropped me at the hotel, he was done for the day. After a chicken dopiaza and a few bottles of Kingfisher I passed out in my luxurious golden orchid bed two hours later.
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Rickshaw driver / Conductor Rickshaw
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