Jai Hind 3

The final release...

Litter

Now this one is applicable to all of India. There are very few places which are pristine clean in this world. Even the remotest tropical islands suffer the blight of man's (and woman's - you reap what you sow, ladies :) consumer society. But nowhere have I seen such blatant disregard for communal cleanliness as in Delhi. In fact, this is one point that can be expanded to include the rest of the country: I've traveled to remote, forested areas where dirt tracks are lined with pavements of plastic bags, foil packets and cartons. One argument for rationalizing what could almost be considered a national hobby is that people are uneducated about such matters. The easily compostable coconut husk of yesteryear has been superseded by the shiny new Tetrapak of tomorrow. If you're not aware that the latter will not disappear as easily as the former if let to its own devices, why should you treat it any differently?The thing is I don't buy that as a good reason. I've seen well-heeled Delhi-ites fling their empty KFC boxes with gay abandon. These people are obviously educated, but still it continues. Why?Well, one further idea is that India has an army of litter pickers who scour the highways and byways for scraps of rubbish they can sell. Knowing that someone will pick up your litter for their own use is therefore not only comforting, it's so altruistic. "Why should I be selfish and put this litter in a bin when some poor soul could use it and earn a few extra rupees?" Why, indeed. But what the hell is that person going to do with a discarded foil packet measuring about 1-inch squared? Sell it as a Nu Rave eye-patch?

Toilet

Sort of following on from the last topic, the act of relieving yourself of unwanted goods is not limited to those items you don't produce yourself. By the side of any road - both big and small - men will put the world behind them and empty their bladders in front of them. Only the other evening I saw a man taking a swizz on the central reservation, his back thankfully turned towards my flow of traffic while he shot out through the railings at the cars on the other side. I can only say I was glad to be traveling in a northerly direction at that particular instance.In this respect Delhi is a bit of a utopia for me and my phenomenally weak bladder. Or it would be if my British sensitivities wouldn't kick in and march me to the nearest public toilet. That in itself, by the way, is the worst idea you could have: the concentration of ammonia in them thar toilets doesn't just make your eyes weep, but your toes curl and your lungs gasp in futile search of the last remaining oxygen molecule. Good venue for conducting an interrogation, however.

Skin Whitening

If you want to a good reason why Planet Earth has not yet been enslaved by alien overlords, take this as an example: half the planet wants to adopt the colour of a camel-leather bag; the other half is striving to look like a new Microsoft Word document. Why would anyone want to step in and administrate a species that messed up?In India, adverts for skin whitening creams out-number adverts for anti-ageing creams. And what's more, the adverts are blatant: the creams are labelled 'Skin Whitening' and the actors on-screen lives are vastly improved by their use. They might as well tell you that having white skin is cool, and anything darker than 'Swan Nape' on the Dulux colour chart will result in a life of social exclusion and deviance.The thing is I have paler skin than most of the indigenous population. Where's my respect? Maybe, as a gora (a pale/white person), I need to work that bit harder on my anti-tan. I should, perhaps, show people the negatives of my holiday snaps and claim the bright white apparition in the foreground as a testament to how white I can really be.The fact of the matter is that I personally think that people should be proud of their dark skin - it has advantages over a paler complexion:a)You can wear a white suit and look sharp. White people wearing white suits look like they're coming to inspect your pineapples.b)Minor blemishes aren't as apparent as on paler skin.c)You can sport corn rows. When David Beckham had corn rows he looked like an over-zealous nit nurse had been digging through his hair for a fungal infection. But until I convince India of the benefits of their darker hue, I better find out where Robert Smith buys his facewash and start importing."Why Can't I Be You?" Well, now you can.

Delhi Belly

There is a common misunderstanding that circulates among people traveling to India. They believe that if you don't do, or to be precise eat, x, y and z you will stand a good chance of avoiding the dreaded Delhi Belly. If you don't eat meat, you'll be fine; if you stick to reputable restaurants, you'll be fine. If you take a homemade prophylactic of garlic and aniseed-infused urine, you will be fine. The truth of the matter is this: it's all b******s. From the most ropey roadside Dhaba to restaurants in 5 star hotels, you are at risk of Delhi Belly and sooner or later you will get it, irrespective of precautions.In fact, it's like a badge of honour, a mark of authenticity to your time in Delhi. If you've lived there and haven't had it, you haven't lived there. You might as well be carried around on a Sedan, only eating Bovril and crumpets, and never deigning to speak to the locals directly. You are Joan Sims in Carry On Up the Khyber. Your version of tiffin is not the same as everyone else's.So, you're going to get Delhi Belly. That's settled. Best get it out of the way then. I had it for the first two weeks of my trip. Waking up in the middle of the night hoping to the Lord Almighty that the dampness you feel in the seat of your boxers is just sweat - and then being sorely disappointed - is a very humbling experience, I can tell you.However, you go through it and don't look back. Now I can eat almost anything. I can throw caution to the wind as I break it (which I must confess I do with a great amount of gusto and satisfaction), and tuck voraciously into any food put before me. Except idli, naturally.

Politics

When parliament voted a few moths ago to see if the PM, Manmohan Singh, should stay in power, imprisoned ex-MPs were released to participate and huge wads of notes were back-handed to sway the vote. This is the state of Indian politics.Throughout India's history, huge sums of money have been promised to feed the poor, educate the poor, bring medical aid to the poor etc etc and many of them have failed. Why? A multitude of reasons, but one of the tops ones has to be the lack of monitoring to see where these funds were heading. And I fear that a lot of this money was swallowed up by greedy contractors, corrupt officials and every other level of administration that wanted a piece of the pie. Now, I'm not saying that it doesn't happen in other countries, including the UK, but the level of public acknowledgement for the prevalence of corruption in the government would bring about a massive enquiry, rolling heads and new legislation. Not here in India. There was furore about the corruption in the papers, but I haven't read anything about it lately. And this throws up one hugely ominous question for the people in general: well, if the Government can do that, why can't I? So people do. You can't do anything in this city without either paying a bribe or knowing someone on the inside (especially when it comes to the police). Recently I read about the billions of rupees people had to pay in bribes last year alone to access services they were entitled to for free. The new HQ my NGO has been building for the past three years would have been finished long before if they had paid the appropriate bribes. If I'd have known the situation before leaving the UK I would have brought more traveller's cheques with me.

Polis

The Delhi Police have a motto: "For You, With You, Always."I would like to tag on "No thanks" on behalf of the public because it is widely accepted that the police are the last people you call in an emergency. Even if you have a maniac using you as a human shield, do not get the police involved: they'll probably just take you down so they can get a clear shot.

Why am I so hostile to New Shahjahanabad's finest, you may ask? Let's just say I've heard some stories. Like the story of my friend who had a purse stolen: the police tried to beat a confession out of some of the perpetrators before filing the stolen item as 'lost'. Or the one where they beat up the security guards at the Sports Complex because some cheeky monkey nicked their Z-Car. Are you seeing a pattern here?I mean, how can the police blame the pool security for such a guff? It won't help, and it just means that there's even more red tape involved if I want to go for a swim.

Bureaucracy

My first brush with Indian bureaucracy came before I even left the country - even before I left Manchester in fact - when I was applying for my visa. No one ever picked up the phone to answer my questions and I travelled all the way to Birmingham and queued up for three hours only to find that the visa started the day you receive it, rather than the day you enter the country.And so the nightmare begins.Unlike tea, India took this British legacy and twisted it into some dark and horrible behemoth, which now roams the corridors of every administrative section picking its teeth with loose staples and feeding on the hopelessness and dejection of some poor b***** who only came in renew his driving licence. I don't know whether or not Douglas Adams ever traveled to India, but if he had the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy would've been a damn sight shorter: the Vogons would have never destroyed the earth had they known that a bureaucracy so convoluted existed below. A bypass would have surely been built.I've tried my best to avoid it - being here for less than 6 months helps, but even going to the local sports centre requires giving your name and phone number. Getting a SIM card was particularly frustrating because you need to provide passport sized photos. Who the hell carries those around with them (with the exception of the Hoff, of curse). Then when you have your passport photos done, they're taken in a studio where you can't just order one or two, but need to order about 30 reprints. Now I've gone from having no passport photos to about 28. 28? What am I going to do? Hand them out to my fans?Additional: On the day I wrote this section karma, realising that a trip to India without embroiling myself in some form of bureaucracy, expertly lifted my camera from my pocket and donated it to a little nimble-digited cherub. This intervention forced me to head to the police station to make a report, if only for the insurance company. To my amazement the process was pretty smooth: I wrote a nice letter to the Senior Officer of the local station in the evening and returned the following morning to collect a copy of the report.This brings my total items lost to the light fingers of Delhi to a grand sum of three. Two of these incidents have happened at places of worship - one Hare Krishna of all places and now Muslim. Someone up there doesn't like me.

Haggling

Normally I'm quite a passive person: I go with the flow. So being thrusted into a country where nearly everything is up for negotiation. Haggling simply isn't optional.Some foreigners look at the Rupee as almost Monopoly money, "It's only another Rs 30. That's what? 40p."That's your first mistake.It's not about the money, it's about principle. Yes, the Rs 30 extra in the Auto only adds up to about 40p, and yes you wouldn't think twice about spending that much extra back home. But this isn't home. Your ability to haggle is almost synonymous with the amount of respect you are afforded. Sure, you're an outsider so you're always going to be charged more, but the question is how far you can haggle them down. Anything in the region of Rs 10 above the actual price and you're doing well. I've found the greatest strategy is humour. Laughter leads to an understanding, an understanding that travels further than even having a partially open to the language. There's no point adopting the attitude "They're trying to rip me off". Yeah they are, but you knew that when you started negotiating. It's like getting pissed at them for removing more oxygen from the air than you whilst you're busy arguing.Of course, a sense of humour is hard to maintain when you've been waiting outside in the heat / rain for 20 minutes, late for work and nursing a hangover. So, if all fails, walk away. Usually you can read the person's face to see whether they'll chase after you. If you're wrong, you're wrong, but don't go back unless absolutely desperate.But at the end of the day remember that there is a bottom price for everything. Like Delhi Belly, being ripped off or at least paying more money for some services is going to happen, but that's no need for you e exacting fiscal revenge.It is only another 40p after all.

Ethnicising

Nothing really narks me more than when people have asked me this question: "So you seem to know a lot of ex-pats. How many Indians do you know?" I always give a polite answer, but the real answer is "Who gives a s***!"If I get on with someone, I get on with them. And I don't care where they're from. I think the insinuation is two-fold: first the question asks whether or not you have bothered to explore the less manicured side of life here, which is fair to ask although it is a little condescending; the other part of the question tries to extrapolate the authenticity of your life in Delhi on more shaky grounds, i.e. the more India people you know, the more real you're keeping it. And that's what I have a problem with.I think it's genetic. Being mixed up (in more ways than one), I've never seen myself as being from one place or another, and I've certainly never fitted in. Even if you try to fit in, there will always be people who will remind you that you are not one of them. So I don't care about how many Indian people I know and I don't dress in an Indian fashion. Good people are good people, and style is universal. I will wear Indian style clothing if it looks good, usually based on the premise that I will wear it back in the UK. There certainly isn't a point in disguising yourself to fit in - you won't. You're best hope is to let people accept you for who you are and take it from there!Altogether now: "I'd like to teach the world to sing, blah blah blah blah blah blaaaah…"

'Made in India'

Not quite a mark of quality. I bought a t-shirt from a dept store with a colour design on the front. The colour threw in the towel after three handwashes.As I type, I am currently wearing a pair of flip flops I bought in Malviya Nagar market a couple of months back, both of which are being held together by cardboard and pieces of an old pair of boxer shorts.Now that's sustainability in action…and has absolutely nothing with me being a bit of a pikey.