Noida to Southex and back

No, I don't think that Delhi is a bad city. It is just that I am from Mumbai, and the experience I had on my last trip to Delhi made me a bit apprehensive of the same. Couldn't help compare it with Mumbai. But fret not, I wouldn't dare to compare the two here, this is not just the right forum. Just wanted to share a couple of "memorable" experiences I had on my last trip there. Been half a dozen months, but it may just help to get it out of my system.

I am placed at Noida. It is January. It is cold. Especially for a guy from Mumbai, for whom the definition of winter is "the season in which you sweat less than the summer".

I need to meet a friend for dinner at Delhi. South-ex, if I am not wrong. I get into a bus.

Me (to the guy distributing tickets): Does this one go to South-ex.
Him: This bus goes everywhere. Ten bucks for the same.

Huh? That's actually the last time I get amazed during the journey. The rest of it is a blur.

I wonder whether this was the bus from that famous Fevicol advt. depicting all those travellers sticking out of the bus. At least looked similar from rear.
Inside, both my feet are almost in air. No, they are definitely in air. Fellow travel comrades stick to me like they have done it all their lives. It was a good thing that I had been practicing traveling in the Mumbai Local trains a week before getting there.

Just like Tendulkar had practiced playing in the rough before Shane Warne came to India. I think of Indian Cricket. My mind gets diverted from the current predicament for a while.

Anyways, I am breathing in only carbon dioxide, and the conductor seems hell bent on sucking in more people. Wonder whether the vehicles in Delhi are tested for CO2 with passengers inside.

Somehow, I get to South-ex.

Or so I think.

It is not South-ex. I think I have got down at the wrong stop. As I invariably do.

No. Apparently the bus that I had got in never had South-ex as one it's listed destinations. The "conductor" had duped me of my precious ten rupees. Damnit. Small matter that I was still 30 minutes away from South-ex. And already running late.
I get into a second bus. The conductor is a nice guy with a monkey cap. I suddenly realise it is cold. The journey is eventless. Nothing at all. Damn.

We meet. Friend and me. Friend hands over a monkey cap. What was it with monkey caps today?

Me: Why this?
Friend: Mum wanted me to take a jacket and some thermals as well, she thought you might feel cold in your half sleeve shirt.

I smile. Friend's parents think that I haven't heard of the stories of the Delhi Winter. I had. Apart from the Sensex and the Indian Cricket Team's performance, the only thing going down here was the mercury. But, so thoughtful and warm of them all the same. The only thing that was.

We talk. We dine. It is 9.30 p.m. Time to get back home.

Friend drops me till a point. There, I wait for a bus. After the previous incident I am a bit vary and picky about the bus I get into. Ask every guy whether it gets to Noida.

They look at me like I am on a changeover en route Mars.

They say there exists no such bus. No bus goes to Noida. I will need to take an auto.

I groan. Not for the first time in the day. I haven't heard too many good stories about autos there as well. The stories about skulls been discovered in Noida recently, echo in the throes of my mind.

A chill passes through me. I shiver. Cold and Fear gel to form a potent combination. I have no idea about directions in this alien city.

Noida suddenly seems light years away. One auto guy agrees to transport me. He asks for seventy bucks. I have no idea how much should it actually be. I don't know how, but I bargain. In spite of myself. So brave of me. So foolish of me.

We agree at sixty.

I get in.

Five minutes later, I am lost. Have no clue about the road, besides it is dark. No road lamps either. I am scared. As they say, "Shitting bricks and all that stuff in my pants" (Big Pants I would have to have). Probably because it's bitterly cold in an auto, going at 40 kilometer per hour.

Should have taken my friend's monkey cap. Damn.

Soon, ours is the only vehicle on the road. The watch shows 10.15 p.m. The city seems dark and dead. I feel the same for myself as well.

I wish I had a knife. Or even an AK-47. I make a mental note to learn karate when I get back. If I do.

I clench my fist, in case the driver tries something funny. It reminds me of the auto rides I had in Mumbai, at least I could dance to the Himmesh Reshamaiyya's tunes. Here, I was dancing to the auto driver's tunes instead.

Fifteen minutes later, he stops the rickshaw. I am no where near my place. It is pitch dark. No-one on the road. He looks back. I fear the worst. I think of the impending World Cup. I think of all those people who love me. I think of people whom I love. The two lists almost match.

Him: That's it. You will need to take another rickshaw.

I am surprised. I am relieved. I am worried. And then I realize my jaws are crackling against each other.

I thought I was a goner. But I am alive. I have no clue where I am.

I pay him. I get out. And suddenly another rickshaw arrives. Almost as if this rick-guy and the previous one had conspired to share the booty.

I tell him. He asks for another exorbitant amount to get me transferred there. This time, I have no fuel left in the tank to argue. I immediately agree and I almost exort him to get me home safe. Ten minutes later I am standing outside my hotel.

Safe. One piece.

Very very scared.

The watch on my wrist shows 11.00 p.m.