Delhi

The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the airport was the scent of sweet dust and some ozone. It's a pleasant smell because it reminded me of my last visit to India 12 years ago. The area close to the airport consists mainly of sand coloured things: buildings, dried grass and dirt. Men are standing or squatting all over the place and I wonder what they're waiting for. Others are sleeping in their cars with their feet hanging out of the door or on the open lawn. The roads are good and driving is pleasant on this Sunday morning. It has nothing in common with the roller coaster rides featuring elephants, buffaloes, cows, goats, scooters and pedestrians I remember from last time. Thanks to the greyish pollution haze there's an awesome sunrise which looks a bit like a peach soaked in grenadine siroup. The domestic airport is gated and some guys were standing on those gates resembling herons. Before I could ask what they're doing Lalu uncle said they're watching the planes take off and land.
After dropping my stuff at home we headed for the city center of New Delhi. Close to the Gate of India there was a parking lot which they had converted into a stage for showcasing Cobras and monkeys. I had no desire to go anywhere near the snake and I had a feeling I'd see many more monkeys. This turned out to be true. In the middle of the city there's a forest and the monkeys sit there next to the road because some people feed them.
A military brass band was performing in their kaki uniforms. I felt sorry for them because it was the kind of day, when you could drink a liter in 20 minutes. They played a fusion style between traditional march music and the latest bhagra tunes. I find it hard to imagine people stomping to war listening to the latest Sharuk Khan movie soundtrack.
Security is tight everywhere. After several blasts happening all over Northern India there's no market, shopping road or major shop you can enter without walking through a metal detector, opening your bags and letting them frisk you. It's sad but better than being blown up (I'm kind of attached to my extremities).
In Indian offices you have to hold on to your papers especially your money, as well as your clothes unless you feel like doing a Marilyn Monroe...This is because in every room there is at least one fan blowing everything around.