Magik Mass

Here are three more signs that I saw on my way to Chakki Bank. My guess is they’re something to do with body building (“get magically big”).

Delhi Metro makes an enormous difference to being in Delhi. Especially if, as a woman alone, you can work out where the women’s only carriage is (pretty essential during rush hour when people are squashed together like sardines).

The cost of living is escalating in Delhi, but you can still hire a taxi for the day (eight hours) for about 15 Euro. The disadvantage is that the traffic is so bad, you can spend a significant chunk of those eight hours in traffic jams. Or parking jams. Indians cram their vehicles together as tightly as they pack human beings into small spaces, and separating your taxi from the throng can really eat up your time. The Metro, on the other hand, is very cheap, perhaps 15 rupees (25 cents) one way, extremely clean and spacious, and although you have to get used to Indian ways (as always in this remarkable country) it’s really quite efficient.

India is a country of squatters. People sit on the floor without hesitation. And lie down in the dust and dog shit and pigeon droppings on station platforms, often for days on end if their train has been delayed. So I wasn’t surprised when I heard an announcement yesterday on the violet line, that you would never hear on the London Underground: “Customers are asked not to sit on the floor of the train.”

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