Delhi: Of drivers and riders.

If I thought Kolkata’s traffic was bad, I wasn’t prepared for Delhi.

At least 10 times larger, Delhi’s traffic is permanently at a stand-still, the honking never ceasing for a minute.

And the main reason for the jams is due to the fact that drivers here don’t give way.

At every intersection without a traffic light, drivers attempt to do the impossible by cutting across where they want to go, with little regard for oncoming traffic and with zero understanding of the concept of giving way.

The result? Unnecessary honking and further delays.

Hapless policemen attempt to wave and direct traffic at these intersections, but more often than not, they are blatantly ignored.

To get anywhere in Delhi, you need a good driver who is aggressive enough and who knows his way around traffic.

Or in some cases, a good rickshaw rider. Here, they call them 2-wheelers.

I got on a 2-wheeler near Delhi’s Red Fort to take me to the monument entrance, across crazy 2-way traffic and then around the Chandni Chowk (bazaar) right across the Red Fort after.

Raju came up to me and said he’d take me for 20 rupees to the entrance of Red Fort. But if I wanted, he would also take me around the Chandni Chowk.

I asked him how much that would cost.

“You happy, you pay me anything you want, madam,” was the reply, with the signature head sway.

As I got on the rickshaw and Raju expertly wheeled around traffic , we got into introductory conversation.

“I’m 28 years old, madam, recently married, only 6 months,” he told me with a toothy smile. Then he turned his head back again and added proudly, “Love marriage, madam, my wife and me, “

It was interesting that he thought it significant to add that final point. I suppose in a country like India where match-made marriages are still the norm, love marriages become a rare, and precious occurrence.

Raju made it a point to remind me as I got on and off his 2-wheeler at each site,

“Don’t take guides inside, madam”

“Don’t buy souvenir inside, madam, very expensive, you go market and buy better”

“Be careful your bag, madam”

Taking a rickshaw ride is quite an unforgettable experience here. The bumps, potholes and swerves are so much more acutely felt; the blares from the cars tailgating the 2-wheeler become excruciatingly sharp to my ears; I had to hold on tight to the sides whilst attempting to take photos without losing my camera with each pothole we went over.

Midway, Raju turned around and asked with a toothy grin, “Madam, you are very beautiful, what about me?”

I saw oncoming traffic nearing our little rickshaw and managed to give him a thumbs-up sign with time enough for him to make a swerve, whilst I closed my eyes and hoped that that wasn’t the last conversation I had in this lifetime.

As our tour came to an end, I handed Raju some rupees and told him to take care of his wife.

With his signature toothy grin, he replied, “Ya, ya, of course, madam,”

Later in the day, I recounted my 2-wheeler encounter to Nick as we headed to dinner at Connaught Place.

I pondered how funny fate could be, that Raju and I were the same age, but our paths in life were so divergent.

Nick peered over his glasses and said knowingly, “Well, at least he’s happily married, and a love marriage at that!”

Touché.