Recently we had a number of guests livingwith us. I know I make it sound like a herd, but it was really only threepeople. They came separately and stayed one at a time. They were all very niceand if I didn’t prefer being solitary, I would have enjoyed having themaround. Actually, I DID enjoy having them around, but had to make that previousstatement in order not to ruin my image as a professional recluse.
Two of them were newcomers to India. I have taken to warning first-time visitorsto India not to stay with me because I will only give them the grimmest possibleview of what they’ll find when they get here: murderous traffic, inclementweather, pollution and hosts who prefer never to leave the house. They persistin coming nevertheless and to my surprise even manage to have a good time (or sothey tell us).
One was lissom, blonde and idealistic. She had heard hair-raising stories aboutDelhi’s finest, with the result that every time she returned from anexpedition to the outside world without getting raped it was with a sense ofhaving scaled Everest barefoot. The other one was a young man, and thereforeless vulnerable to the attentions of Delhi’s testosterone-enriched sharks.Both claimed that their experiences weren’t a tenth as bad as we’d led themto believe. The third has stayed with us a couple of times already and says shefeels safe so long as she’s got our cook’s soup to come back to each day.
So ... have the capital city’s street-side manners actually improved? Or is itjust that our security systems (private taxis, modest clothes, no late nights)are watertight? I’m hoping we never find out.
This article originally appeared in Delhi City Limits, February 15,2006
