Maneez

New Delhi, 1:00 a.m.

My cab driver texts while driving. There’s a Gold’s Gym for Men right outside a dilapidated army housing complex on the outskirts of the city. I see empty rickshaws on the sides of the road, until the cab pulls up closer and I realize there are people sleeping there. There are people sleeping everywhere, sometimes alone but mostly in groups; under trees, in makeshift huts, on the dividers between the roads. We’re making a U-turn and there’s a little boy wearing shorts and carrying a t-shirt crossing the street.


There are beautiful trees here next to empty, closed off buildings. Buildings with haphazardly placed signs all over the fronts, they remind me of a picture collage, each little sign seemingly an add on competing for attention. I wonder if 12 hours from now they may be full of life like their accompanying fruit-bearing counterparts.

It’s hot but the wind is blowing in from the open cab window. It’s bumpy. I wonder if it’s the cab or the road. I ask Maneez, he laughs and says “yes”. He points out the metro lines every 5 minutes. It’s the same line, I picked up on the pattern, but he likes to tell me about them. “Metro all way from airport” he says. I’m impressed, he’s pleased. I say I heard the metro system was really good. His smile brightens.
“You married?” he asks. I pause and for a moment remember all those who told me to answer yes to this question for the purposes of safety. “Engaged,” I lie. “Huh? Married or not married?” he repeats. “No, no…uh..engaged” I struggle to think of the Hindi word. Baad Bhaki? Nikkah? I’m too afraid of being wrong to try either one. I try to explain “about to be married, engaged” I point to my ring finger. He shakes his head. Silence. Awkward. He probably thinks I’m just unmarried and in denial or trying to explain myself. Aren’t I though? Note to self: the truth is always a safer bet.
The trees are so beautiful. After a few moments of deliberating and ultimately deciding that I’m already as foreign as it gets, I pull out my camera. Maneez jumps at the flash. It’s hard to capture anything in the dark. He reaches back for the camera and I give it to him. He tries to take pictures as I worry about the merging traffic. The driving is indescribable but reminds me of Egypt. Terror and nostalgia make for a weird emotional mix. “No pictures of India in night, India dark at night,” he says and hands the camera back. The truth is, though, he never found the capture button. I tried to explain where it was…then I felt like a prick. I tried to explain that there was a night vision setting…then, again, I felt like a prick.

It seems like Maneez has no idea where we’re going. We’ve made a couple of U-turns and he keeps slowing down to look around. I tell him the person from the hotel said we could call if we are lost. He says “No problem”, smiles and speeds up. A couple of U-turns later, he stops on the side of the road and asks two cops on a motorcycle for directions. The three of them talk back and forth for about 10 minutes, consulting the address on my print out, looking around, etc. I keep trying to butt in, but Maneez always silences me with a “No problem” and continues. One of the cops is staring and smiling. At first I smile back, then he winks. Awkward. Do smiles send the wrong signal here? Do winks have a different meaning here?

Eventually we get to the hotel, which as it turns out, is literally down an alley. It is much, much shabbier than its internet postings made it out to be. At first, I sit around and mope. Everything seems dirty and/or broken and I hated every bit of it, from the stained sheets on the bed, to the faucet knob that comes off when turned, to the pushy door man who keeps trying to come into my room. After passing out for 2-3 hours though, I feel better in the morning, more able to laugh at the little oddities found in my hotel room, the tiny balcony, the bucket in the bathroom, the swan-shaped light, and the fact that it reminded me so much of Egypt. When even that does not help, I find comfort in knowing that I paid very little money to be here. Even here, it seems, you get what you pay for is the bottom line.