Indian Samurai इंडियन सामुराई

Be ready!

 

Mumbai-Delhi. Two cities ten times the size of Slovenia each. Two thousand kilometers. Two hours by plane. Sixty flights per day. Nothing insurmountable! Except that it requires a bit of anticipation. If the delays are not what they used to be a few years ago, they are still frequent between these two mega-cities: when it’s not the fog in Delhi it’s the rain in Mumbai...

 

For an appointment at 4:15 PM, I had therefore planned carefully. I would arrive at 1:10 + something unexpected (a one hour flight delay) + 40 minutes by taxi + something unexpected (almost anything that could happen on the road and block us 30 minutes) and I still had a 45 minutes safety gap...

 

Except that... While it had not rained for more than three weeks, nature unleashed in the night before my departure! Naively, I thought I could still take a rickshaw but upon the advice of my favorite Indian I booked a Uber (a first!), and left early. I could only get a SUV and thank God for that: the water level was so high that only our car could pass in some passages, where rickshaws drivers, stuck in the middle of the street with water up to the waist, were forced to push their vehicle on the side. And we, while water was coming under the door, we drove through, pushing water as a backhoe snow! Which enabled me to 1. Arrive at the airport and 2. Arrive at the airport in time, and even a little bit early. Early enough to take the time to call back the driver after realizing I had forgotten my umbrella in his car – since it is not permitted to exit the airport after check-in in India, it is the guard who had to go get it for me, the driver having some difficulties locating me behind the glass door! And early enough to buy a phone charger since mine had gone missing. So here I was, finally ready for the flight!

 

One hour delay at the time of boarding... How grateful I am for my foresight!

 

Two hours delay at the time of take-off... Why on earth didn’t I book an earlier flight?? Okay, don't panic. There is still a small chance that the traffic on the Delhi-Gurgaon road is not huge in early afternoon and that there is no major incident...

 

Finally I land in Delhi. I jump in a radio-taxi. We rush to Gurgaon and reach in 25 minutes! I am fifteen minutes early which means I can pee, pump some milk, freshen up, put my jacket on. Before all that I inform the desk that I am around, just so they know... An employee comes to meet me immediately and make me follow him. Before I know it, I find myself in the meeting room (hungry, with a full bladder, dishevelled, fearing breast engorgement, my shirt protruding from everywhere, in short completely lost in translation!).

 

My instructions were strict for this meeting: whatever happens, be on time – German-Swiss take time very seriously. Taking this into account, I had calculated that I should be ready to leave by 5.30 PM (it was planned to last 75 minutes max) and could book a return flight at 7:45. How surprised was I to realise it was 5:55 when I left the room! But no need to get excited, with the delay I experienced in the morning, there is no chance that my flight is on time!

 

Despite the craziness of the traffic jam (these I-don’t-know-how-many-lanes of cars are very impressive on this road), I arrive at 6.45 at the airport, sharp one hour in advance... Except that I am on the phone with a colleague and he won’t stop talking. Which is makes it very uneasy to show my e-ticket to the guard... Ten minutes later, I finally hang up and I am immediately told that I am at the wrong terminal! I had completely zapped that Jet Airways flights are not operated with other domestic flights... There seems to be no end to this day!

 

Another walking-in passenger then offers me to use his car, which leaves me somewhat puzzled. He assures me it’s not a problem, it’s his office car and anyway I won’t find a taxi at the departures... By the time I decide whether to take up the offer, the guard urges me “there, a taxi! Go go!” I spot a white car which is about to leave and stops it. I ask if this is a taxi, and if he can take me to Terminal 3. No problem!! As I can’t see a meter, I assume I will have to pay a bomb but it does not matter, I just want to go home! I still ask the driver what kind of taxi this is and the answer is weird: taxis booked online by companies, especially for foreigners. Well... Twenty minutes later I'm at the right departure gate, and not even late, my flight was announced to depart with delay at 8:30 PM. When I ask the driver how much I owe him, he answers – wait for it – “nothing, it was my pleasure to help you”. Bah ?? Wait wait wait. Am I really in Delhi? The city with a terrible reputation? And two men offer to help me in the same day? I love my life!

 

I landed in Mumbai with one hour delay. Found a taxi and got home in an acceptable time considering the weather conditions. It is 11 PM and I'm dead...

When I moved back to Mumbai in January I was dead on doing a road trip from Delhi with my best friend, like Thelma and Louise and all! 

Well, it would have been an I20 instead of a convertible and Madhya Pradesh instead of the American far-west in the background. Maybe not as glamorous but you do with what you have right?! Thelma and Louise IndianSamourai-style! 

Because of lack of time, unavaibility of Thelma, cold winter, cat to transport, bad states of the roads and all my Indian friends recommending against my road trip, I finally flew to Mumbai… 

 

But I did more or less the planned itinerary with my parents this summer and I have zero regret to have cancelled the road trip! My car would probably be good for a toss, and my back as well. That is if we had made it at all… 

5 hours to travel 250 kilometers from Gwalior to Orchha. On the good road. The bad road is only 125 kilometers but apparently too bad to be travelled. I can’t even imagine what the bad road is like after travelling the good road. The first part is full of holes which are not there in the second part (the new highway) but both are equally full of trucks, people, carts, cows and god knows what else… Total anarchy… 

Which made me even happier to have opted for train rides from Delhi to Gwalior (3 hours) and from Gwalior to Indore (overnight)! I hesitated a lot with a car drive for the whole trip… 

 

Gwalior appeared to me as a very busy city. But this may be due to the fact that we visited the fort on Independence day. It felt like the one million inhabitants of Gwalior had decided to do the same thing… We were constantly surrounded. It was even funny to see how fast a crowd would gather around us when we would move to another place in the fort… Unfortunately my GoPro had no more battery. 

After an hour or so my smile faded though. It was a very hot day (38 degrees) and I started suffocating.  

 

We found shelter in the Taj heritage hotel. Nice but soulless. So we fled back to our heritage hotel, the great Deo Bagh by Neemrana!

What a joke! 

I have been driving for a year now in India... 

 

I had tried to get a driving license in Delhi but since all my documents were registered in Mumbai (including my residence permit), I had to give up (but not without spending half-a-day in the Kafkaesque labyrinth of the Delhi RTO...). 

 

I tried again in Mumbai. I first found the driving school and I gave them my papers: passport and visa, French driving license, residence permit, renting agreement and invoice. Obviously there was a snag because since I had moved in for less than a month I did not have any invoice... But I kept my cool, Indian style, I left my papers and came back a month and a half later with an invoice! And 3,500 rupees (about 60 euros). 

 

Then all it took was to harass the driving school so that they would take me to the RTO. Which was kinda of a empty hangar, two desks, four chairs, two antique computers and two people who take your photo and your fingerprints. Surreal. But in 30 minutes it was done.  

I was not convinced when the driving school guy told that I would receive the license by mail – because I'm never home during the day – but it was useless to put up a fight, there was no other option. I told myself that I would go and sit and wait in the Post office after a month if I had not received anything and that would be about it! 

 

Three weeks later, by a beautiful Tuesday, my friends received the famous license at home! See, there was nothing to get excited about... 

The following Saturday we went out for a drive to try out the much awaited license. 

 

Since I have started driving I never had a problem: I adopted the local style of driving so I am difficult to spot ;)  

I got stopped only twice (and only in Delhi). The first time: the cop got excited because I was talking on the phone on bluetooth. I told him that no, I was singing, and when he wanted to take my cell I just left. I think he was just curious to see a foreigner driving and looked for an excuse to stop me and talk to me... 

 

The second time, I don’t really know how but I managed to get stuck in the middle of a huge crossroads going on the opposite way I should have. A little stuck by panic and by all the cars that were coming on me on I stayed still. And when I saw a policeman who was waiving at me from the other side, I took him as a target and drove slowly slowly towards him. When I reached him, I lowered my window, gave him a sweet look, said « sollllly » and continued driving. Here we go, you have not seen me! 

 

Here we are, back in Mumbai. I was driving, happy to have escaped the cops who stopped the vehicles for speed excess on the Sea Link. When I reached the end of the bridge I saw a red light. Which seems to be of no use. So here I was, wondering whether it was really worth it to stop when my right neighbour just went through! Obviously I followed him... And obviously I got arrested. 

 

I was almost happy to hand my brand new license! Except that the cop told me the procedure was to keep my license at the Worli police station and that I should go there and get it later. 

So I lost it: no freakin way! C'mon give me back my license right away. We can’t even see your signal. And why didn’t you stop the other car? I want my license immediatelyyyyyy! 

 

100 rupees (€1.5) later (quite cheap considering all the signals I have missed...), a receipt in hand (yes I did not bribe the police officer) and my license in the pocket we left for other adventures...