“Delhi’s den of Debauchery”
Not only does it sound cool, it fits. I must thank Sir Loon for the name. And while I’m at it, for the entire trip. I wanted to write this sooner, when everything was still fresh in my rapidly-degenerating mind, but I haven’t gotten around to being sober much. Why am I writing this today? Because today I’m exhausted, awake and clean. More or less anyhow.
Paharganj happened last Saturday. After a successful con, I got dropped off at the Metro Station at CP. My mother bought some KFC stuff for my brother and then left, albeit reluctantly, leaving Sir Loon and me to wait for the 6 other people that were supposed to show up. It’s true; lies don’t even ruffle your conscience after a point.
Anyhow, before taking the Subway, we wandered into the giant geometrical park. Actually, “wandered into” isn’t honestly what we did. We ran about crossing roads and climbing stairs until we found the deserted park. Why was it deserted? Because it was now Noon. This meant that the bright summer Sun was a straight nuke-powered arrow away from the top of our respective heads. (And it can do that because it’s the sun. Really huge, millions of miles away, etc). And we’re talking Delhi June here. For the fortunate and blissful ignorant, that means that the temperature calmly crosses 40 degrees Celsius whenever it feels like. In short, you’d have to be fucking insane to be wandering about in a park at Noon. Or in real need of a safe place to smoke some marijuana.
Once slightly stoned, we were prepared to take the next step. “The CP metro station is always crowded”, Sir Loon said, with the air of a co-conspirator, as we walked down the clean shiny slope that marked the entrance to the underground station. “That’s ‘cause it’s a main junction and every line passes through here.” How Crowded?, was all I could think of, as I told myself over and over that I had done this before. And I had quite loved the whole subway trip. But that was from another vaguely remembered life…
At first, it didn’t seem all that bad. But then, as the “train” got nearer, all these strange people materialized out of thin air. And we were carried into the shiny silver box along with the busy, harassed looking janta. Yes, I liked the whole experience better the first time around. But that’s probably only because there weren’t so many people back then. Using the Metro, I mean. Still, the journey was uneventful and quick, and next thing I knew, we were at the station with the… holy sounding name (that will be found out and mentioned. Sorry.)
To Be Continued...
That’s all for now. Part 2 (and 3?) shall take a recorded form of existence sometime later. I’m tired and sober, remember? I have to fix that. At least half of it. Later gators. :P
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