Countdown: Two days until I leave for the First World. I woke up and walked in the freezing cold around Connaught Place and then Chandni Chowk, just to get a last whiff of the old-city chaos that is Chandni Chowk. Again, I was surprised. After getting held up by a bunch of women in saris afraid to get on the escalator in the Metro, I milled around Chandni Chowk. It was pure pandemonium, even at 7am. Boys were taking baths in freezing cold wells, I was getting cold just watching. So, I went to the Tibetan refugee market and bought some really nice wool shawls, bargaining hard as usual. However, Tibetans don’t like bargaining, and are horrible businessmen. Indians are much better, and will rip you off, but India is cutthroat and this is needed for survival. I don’t get how the Tibetans compete, by not even responding when you ask them questions or try and bargain, and then I usually end up buying the thing from the Indians. I actually really like bargaining, now that I know the prices, and since I’m the decent; it’s a fun and dynamic way to shop. Now I know why India is the leading country in telemarketing; they are great salesmen and touts. This is apparent on the streets of Chandni Chowk: The kids all run up to you, looking cute and poor. The mothers look sad and desperate, and ask for money. The men try and sell you anything they have, by any means possible. The elderly look helpless and decrepit, and beg. After draping the shawl around me Indian-style, I walked around and saw poor street dwellers everywhere, just waking up from the cold night; it reminded me of a homeless shelter scene from a US city. Everyone was dirty, poor, uneducated or crazy, yelling at each other, and male. They were lined up on the sidewalk, waiting for their breakfast, a free chapati and dal meal, donated by the Sikh Gurudwara across the street. Not only did the Sikhs give food to the poor, they also had doctors working on the street, who were administering flu shots and treating patients for fractured limbs and other horrible injuries and diseases. These people had such blatant disfigurements; amputated limbs, leprosy, skin rashes, and deformed body parts. Some were difficult even for me to look at, and even more difficult to think what life would be like with these impairments, especially if you had no money or place to go. It was great to see the Sikhs helping them; and this confirms my love for the Sikh religion; I just wouldn’t really like wearing the costume. I ate breakfast at Haldiram’s for the last time. I had water balls, kachori, and chaat, all of which are favorite Indian snacks that I’ve never had before. All were pretty similar and okay; like a samosa with lots of curd and some namkeen. After Chandni Chowk, I went to New Delhi to see the Parliament Building. I was scheduled to go sit in on a session of the Lok Sabha, the “House of the People”, through the DU Political Science Department, but I was gone on a trip (not surprising), so I never got to. Shawn said it was funny: All they did was yell and argue at each other, and you could see why the Indian government never gets anything done. I wasn’t allowed to sit in on a session, which is understandable. But still, I should be able to go because the rest of my classmates can go whenever they want. So for this reason and this reason only, I don’t have a positive opinion of Indian politics. Politics (along with cricket, water instead of toilet paper, and movies) is one thing that every Indian absolutely loves. I walked around the imposing round sandstone building, surrounded by palm trees, barbed wire, policemen, and way too many military guards with assault rifles. I went next to Khan Market to look at my tailoring and see the progress of my type job, but apparently the guy is incompetent and his computer has a virus and no CD-writer. Tanzeb the tailor apparently is incompetent, too, because my suit makes me look like a beachball, with a bulging stomach, and tight shoulders. I had to go back later, again, to get my journal notes computerized, and then to get my tailoring right. Tanzeb is going to try and charge more, and normally I wouldn’t care (because I’d simply refuse to pay, because that’s unfair…it’s your job to tailor the suit to my body!), but I lost the receipt that says how much I’ve paid and how much I still owe. This has potential to be really bad. But he’s not getting a cent more out of me; the suits were $200 each as is, plus he had forever to get them done. I went next to Connaught Place for lunch at (surprise, surprise) Sarawana Bhavan, and then I spent the afternoon perusing the state government emporiums complex, for last-minute souvenirs. I saw some nice silverware, marble inlay, textiles, and carvings. However, everything was really expensive, and there’s no bargaining, so it didn’t really turn me on. Then I walked through New Delhi, past the Bangla Sahib Sikh Temple, pretty busy with your typical big, round, heavily-bearded Punjabis in turbans. I went to the Birla Mandir, thus pretty much completing sightseeing for the India trip. That’s so weird to say, because I’m so used to sightseeing as a form of entertainment for the last six months. When I go home I’m going to have to find something else to do; like binge drink. The Birla Mandir, built by the wealthy Bengali industrial mogul, was impressive, with red, yellow, and white spires, with figures of all Hindu (and most other main religions’) gods and heroes. After that, I went back to Khan Market and yelled at the typist and Tanzeb. When I go back home, I’m going to be so mean to shopkeepers and service people; just because you have to be like that in order to avoid getting gypped here. I ate dinner at…Sarawana Bhavan…again. Still amazing, though. Then I packed all my stuff for the final time. It took me two blisters, a strained tricep, and a lot of sweat to get my two huge suitcases closed. They are pieces of work, and if you open them, it will be like a jack-in-the-box, everything popping out at once. The seams are already really strained, and I’m beyond worried about the airlines’ weight limit and the bag breaking. The bags are basically overfilled with souvenirs and gifts, along with useful things like a briefcase, shoes, and suits. As I went to bed, I had a hard time falling asleep, because in less than 24 hours I will be off to the International Airport on my way out of India! I can’t even believe it, it’s become such a way of life here, and I think I’m going to have a hard time adjusting.
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