‘Throw those curtains wide, one day like this, a year would see me right.’

- Elbow 

Just as I thought I would never see my suitcase or any of my possessions ever again, a voice boomed from behind me and a young suited man appeared with a large stick and thrashed it violently, rescuing me and my belongings from the clutches of the mad man.

Please sir, I will stay with you, keep you safe, he said reassuringly, handing me my suitcase and leading me in another direction. His name was Vibhor, he worked behind the reception in the hotel and, worried for my safety, he had followed me out. We were both twenty two and shared a birthday, he was very good looking, and had I not been so disorientated and shaken up, I probably would have felt a spark as he put his arm around me and guided me through the streets of squalor.

We walked for what seemed like forever until he finally presented me my salvation. Nestled in the front of a garish yellow building and blocked by a ten foot spiked fence, an ATM light blinked weakly beneath a neon lit sign that read 24/7 free cash withdrawals. Vibhor approached the tightly locked gate and shook it violently, yelling to a none existent security guard to let us in immediately. He tried this for a good few minutes before nonchalantly concluding that we should climb.

Without second thought he lifted himself up onto the filthy railings, tarnishing his clean tailored suit, and offered me he his hand to help me up. I left my suitcase on the ground behind us and we began to climb over the barbed fence. We must have looked like the most unusual pairing, me in my now ripped t-shirt, my pale white skin shining beneath the moonlight, and him with his dark skin and expensive suit, leaping from the fence and brandishing his stick aggressively, preparing to defend me from unseen guard dogs whose howls drew nearer and nearer.

I punched in my details into the ATM over and over but each time my card was declined. I looked at Vibhor despondently but he told me not to worry. You are with Vibhor now, and Vibhor will not let anything bad happen to you.

We hopped back over the fence and he began leading me back through the poverty stricken streets of Delhi. A small girl dressed in rags fell to her knees in front of us and held out her dirt covered hands to beg. I wish I had something to give, I said to Vibhor, who immediately withdrew his wallet and handed me fifty rupees. I thanked him before placing the money into the palms of the small girl who was too weak to even raise her head in acknowledgement.

Is very sad, Vibhor said, but thousands like her in Delhi alone, you cannot feed them all, then he laughed and added, first sir must learn to feed himself. I laughed nervously, I wasn’t in the mood for jokes but appreciated the firm grip he placed on my shoulder as he pulled me in close and lead me back up towards the hotel.

We were greeted by the smiling manager who spoke quickly with Vibhor before turning to me and handing me a glass of minted cranberry juice and a key card. Best room in hotel, she said, free of charge.

Both dazzled and amazed I thanked her over and over again before Vibhor picked up my suitcase and lead me to my room. Sleep well sir, he said, opening the door to the penthouse suite, I will see you in the morning. I told him to wait, and as I reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet, I saw the single American Dollar that the thieves had left me with, and handed it to him. He looked confused but understood the gesture and nodded with an appreciative smile before closing the door behind me.

The room was enormous but I was too tired to care or even take notice. I collapsed on the king size bed and lay with my eyes wide open, thinking about the warnings of those Israeli boys who couldn’t have been more right, before slowly blinking into a dream. I don’t know how much time passed but what seemed like only moments later I was awoken by the sound of chanting in the distance. I sat upright and felt the strong scent of orange blossom filling my nostrils as I opened my eyes to the spectacular morning sunrise.

Without having to leave my bed, I had panoramic views over the beautiful tropical city, magnificent birds soared and caught in the rising sunlight, and the sound of the prayers of thousands pulled the sun from the darkness so it could warmly kiss my cheeks. I rose from the bed sheets and took a piece of mango from my freshly prepared fruit basket and stared down into India with awe.

Two pillars framed the glowing sun as it lit up the city, vibrant colours swayed in the gentle early morning wind as the markets set up in the streets, and as I stood there, I simply couldn’t believe that this was the same cruel city that robbed me of my money and dignity. For the first time since I arrived, I was glad to be in India, and even the cruel actions of those who lived in the darkness could not outweigh the generosity of those who’d tried to help me.

I climbed back onto my bed, sat cross legged, and even though I didn’t really know what I was doing, I silently prayed with the masses. I expressed my thanks for the hospitality of the Indian people, my thanks for the help I received in making it through the night, and finally my thanks for the glorious Indian sunrise.

This is the final part of a three part series, you can read the first part here, and the second part here. 

‘Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low, only hate the road when you’re missing home.’

- Passenger 

I jumped up and down and tried to attract the attention of one of the tuk-tuk drivers speeding down the blaring highway, but it was hopeless. Everyone was far too busy focussing on the chaos of the motorway to notice the skinny white boy cowering at the side of the road.

I gazed into the fire that blazed on the horizon and was very nearly ready to give up and try to figure my way back home. I’d been in India for less than two hours and I was already ready to leave, that was until, as often happens in India, a cow appeared out of the darkness and began playfully licking my fingers.

I didn’t try to shoo it away, I appreciated the company, and began stroking its injured side. Cows are considered sacred in India, and I’m almost certain it was this act of compassion that urged a rickshaw driver to pull over and offer me a lift.

I’m very sorry sir, he said, I have room for you but you will have to leave behind your cows. I looked around to see that another cow had crept up and was chewing on the handle of my suitcase. I nodded and climbed inside, bidding farewell to my bovine companions before balancing my suitcase on my lap and taking the long and terrifying journey into Delhi. It turned out that the men that had robbed me had driven in the opposite direction.

I was no longer inside the security of my air conditioned taxi, I was exposed to all of the elements, and was white as a sheet by the time we pulled up outside my hotel. I pulled out my five hundred emergency rupees from my sock to pay the driver and rushed into the reception to tell them what had happened. I frantically pushed past the gracefully bowing doorman and collapsed on the front desk, panting and trying to tell them everything all at once.

Do you have the name of the taxi company, sir? they asked. License number? Name of the driver? Anything? I shook my head, in the madness of it all, I hadn’t thought about taking down any of it. They looked at me like I was the dumbest tourist to ever walk through their doors before offering their sincerest apologies and offering to check me into my room and deal with it tomorrow.

I was still shaking as I handed over my credit card and punched in my pin number as they prepared some chai tea to calm my nerves. I took small sips and just as I thought everything was going to be okay, they told me that my card had been declined. They tried six more times before apologising and turning me away, telling me to try the local ATM, and to come back tomorrow.

I protested and bargained with them but they assured me that there was nothing they could do. They wheeled my suitcase back out into the street and left me alone in the maddening darkness. With no money and nowhere to sleep, I began carefully navigating myself past the naked children lying in the street and the packs of wild dogs that bared their fangs when I approached to walk by. I had no idea where I was going, but no matter which direction I went, I was met with another crippling vision of heartbreaking poverty.

Frail hands reached out to me in the darkness, wanting for nothing more than a mouthful of rice or a splash of clean water, but I had nothing to offer them. All I could do was lift my luxury filled Calvin Klein suitcase over their bodies and continue on my way. I desperately wanted to help them but I was so scared that I could only see them as a threat.

I kept my guard up as I walked, and only when I began to feel secure that I wouldn’t be attacked, a bearded dishevelled man hobbled to his feet and began yelling and waving his arms. Grabbing hold of my suitcase, he raised one of his bloodied fists, and threatened me with a menagerie of foreign screams. His ribs jutted out of his bare chest, he was starving and clearly prepared to do anything for food, and I wasn’t about to stand in his way. I let go of my suitcase and slowly backed away.

Every one of my worldly possessions was packed inside that bag, and as I watched the starving man’s fingers prying at the zipper, it was as if I was watching all of my memories disappear. Letters, souvenirs, even my dildo, everything was tucked away inside. I had thought the moment I got off that deadly highway that my nightmare was over, but now suffering the terror of the harsh low lit Indian Twilight, it was obvious to me that it was only just beginning…

This is the second part of a three part series, you can read the first part here, and the final part here. 

‘But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?’

- Bastille

Be careful white boy, the handsome Israeli boys told me as we boarded the train to Madrid. I had just told them I was heading to Delhi, and after giving me a quick look up and down they concluded that I wouldn’t last five minutes. I desperately wanted them to look past the colour of my skin, I wanted to convince them that I was as savvy as they come, and so I began bombarding them with stories to try and prove my experienced traveller status.

I told them about the time I’d accidentally taken a train to Moscow, how I’d gotten into a fight in Budapest, how I was left stranded after my flight to New York was cancelled, and how I’d had my drink spiked in Munich. The worst had already happened, I explained, but they just laughed even harder.

I hope you’re right, white boy, one of the boys said patting me on the shoulder, but it’s a whole different world over there, man. I swallowed hard but assured them that I would be fine. It seemed everyone was giving me the same advice, my boss, my parents, my friends, even the boy who gave me the lovebite- everyone was imploring me to stay safe. I thought about those words as the plane soared over the Arabian Sea and prepared to land. I was confident I’d be fine, I could take care of myself, I mean, how bad could it be?

 I wandered into the airport terminal in the dead of the night and began scouting for the international arrivals gate, and as I walked past the dozens of people queueing to enter on Indian passports, I quickly found myself to be the only lone foreigner.  I was puzzled as to why everyone was staring at my pale white flesh, I didn’t understand where all my fellow ex pats and tourists were, there was just me, and suddenly I felt terribly alone.

The glass doors to the exit slid open and I stepped out into the warm smoke filled night, coughing and spluttering and drawing the attention of the masses. Like letting fresh blood drop into a shark tank, they turned on me within seconds, trying to sell me things, their prying fingers pulling at my pockets, reaching for my backpack, and pulling me this way and that.

They were suffocating me, and had my saviour not appeared on the horizon, I probably would have fallen into blind panic. He stood atop his radio taxi in the distance, hand extended generously, waving and calling me over. With a beaming smile he shooed away the masses and placed my suitcase into the trunk of his car. Climbing inside, I found myself sat with the driver and two other men, it wasn’t until we began to drive that I knew something was terribly wrong.

They all spoke in Hindi loudly and quickly, pointing at me and laughing, and when I asked them why the meter was switched off, they claimed that it was broken. How much then? I asked, handing over the address of my hotel. One thousand rupees, the driver answered quickly and without thought. No, I laughed, thinking I was very clever having looked up the price beforehand, I won’t pay any more than five hundred. The car slowed slightly as he turned around and glared at me, his gentle features now pointed, and told me that he wasn’t in the mood for bartering, and that I could pay his price or get out.

How about seven hundred, then? I said, not wanting to have to go back to the suffocating mob of the airport. It was 4am, I didn’t mind being ripped off, I just wanted to get to my hotel quickly and safely. He begrudgingly agreed and we turned off onto the hectic Indian Highway. Tuk-tuks, rickshaws, and trucks loaded with farm animals swerved in and out of the path of the taxi, honking their horns incessantly, and bumping into us from all sides. I marvelled at the wondrous paintwork and incredible writing displayed on all the vehicles and I flinched as a pack of wild dogs chased a famished child into the path of a moving school bus loaded with cattle. I was so caught up in the insanity that I barely noticed the driver holding out his hand and demanding over and over that I pay him.

I handed over the 700 rupees without thought and turned my attention to an elephant that was stealing from a lantern lit roadside fruit stand. Seven thousand, we agree seven thousand, the driver said, interrupting my wonder and forcing me to turn back to face him.  Seven thousand, he repeated now raising his voice. I laughed and truthfully told him that I didn’t even have that much, but he only got louder and more aggressive. Seven thousand! he yelled, jerking the car abruptly, scraping the side of a van loaded with chickens and sending them berserk, flapping their wings in wild panic as some of their eggs escaped into the low lit neon madness.

The man sat to my right reached for my wallet just as I snatched it out of the driver’s reach and retreated to my corner of the taxi. Seven thousand or you get out, the man said calmly, reaching over, popping open the lock, and gesturing outside the fast moving vehicle. Blaring Hindi music and the sound of screeching horns filled the air as he forced open my door onto the moving highway and demanded I hand over my money.

I only have three thousand, I lied in a state of absolute terror, just managing to close my door as an  entire family whizzed by on a single moped. He demanded that I show him my wallet, and when I refused, he knew I was holding back. The driver swerved into the path of a lorry loaded with camels and sleeping women and pulled over into the unlit darkness at the side of the motorway.

Out, he said with a new found calmness, and everyone but me climbed out of the vehicle. I sat perfectly still, clutching my backpack for dear life, and watching their every moment, clueless of what was going to happen next. Seven thousand, the driver yelled again, a last warning before he carefully lifted my suitcase out of the trunk and hurled it into the ditch beside the road. I climbed out of the vehicle to try to stop him, but as soon as I did, they were on top of me.

They demanded my wallet, stripping it of my Indian Rupees, Thai Baht, British Pounds, and Euros, and leaving me with just one American dollar before getting back into their car and driving away. I didn’t even attempt to join them; I knew they weren’t taking me any further. They disappeared into the screaming hell of the Indian Highway, and left me alone in the darkness. I stood in the path of screeching moving traffic, and closed my eyes, praying for a happy ending that I knew might not ever come…

This is the first part of a three part series, you can read the next part here, and the final part here.