The Delhi Transportation Corporation

Have you ever felt that you couldn't POSSIBLY get any more ridiculously upset? That if you did, you'd probably explode, and hope to take everyone around you down as well? I literally have not felt such prolonged, consistent anger- which has turned to a disgust- towards anything I can remember, until now. The Delhi Transportation Corporation- the DTC. This "public service" is actually sucking the life force from my BONES- draining me of any patience, courtesies, energy and interest that I had prided myself on... i've got to qualify this, i'm at the end of the line today. I'm writing just after another ridiculous day on the city buses- kind of like grocery shopping when you're starving... not a good idea. It doesn't help that one of my dominant personality traits is persistence- a positive in many ways- but a road to destruction when the situation is just worth giving up.
It all centers around my past desire to see an out-of-the-way enclave just north of Delhi- Majnu-ka-Tila. In my guidebook, there's a short section about this village that made it sound worth visiting... "a small respite from the Delhi madness, known as Little Tibet, quaint eateries, cybercafes, shops..." It sounded awesome- I wanted to go.
NOW- just to give you a quick overview. Delhi is huge- naturally. It's the capitol of probably the most populated country on earth- i'm not sure, but i'm beginning to think nothing ends here, even the census. The buses are surprisingly well-maintained, even though they look like the roof is about to peel off and the brakes sound like the pads wore out around Partition. That I don't mind- it's kind of entertaining. But there are literally hundreds of buses destruction-derbying all over this enormous metropolis, and it's basically impossible to really know which one will take you to your destination. Even the people who look like they take these all the time get confused and pawn your question to someone else... following their advice, even if it is said with confidence, is a recipe for disaster.
In the states, you'd expect to find a very orderly and exact time schedule online- where to find the bus, where it goes, the times (to the minute) and a corresponding map. Here... the website exists... but that's about it. You have an option of scrolling through about 95 "starting points" and then the same 95 "destinations", and then supposedly the site will give you your bus number... it ALWAYS comes up as "There are no direct routes between these locations." Thereby, you're directed to another link "Look for indirect routes." INDIRECT in this city?? You have no idea. The map links don't work, there are 5 stops for each area in town and you never know which one to use (and usually none of them work anyways), and entire lines don't exist. The bus that I take to Oklha, a small town south where a family friend lives, isn't even listed on the website... THE ENTIRE BUS IS MISSING.
So now for my anecdotes- my case studies on public transit confusion and straight up soul-snatching.
1) Going to my Hindi classes- about 4 times a week I take the 520 from Connaught Place (Called Connaught Circus- if Indians are calling it a circus, you know it's completely out of control) to Malviya Nagar. It's 10 rupees, I don't have to think about it, and I go from the starting point to the end... don't even have to watch out the window. Just the other day, we're getting close. I'm reading my book, and thoroughly enjoying the seat that I have basically pushed old men out of the way to get (like I said, niceties are LONG gone). I notice people have been yelling at the driver, but without a goddamn clue about what they are saying, I keep reading. I am thinking the bus driver is new, but i'm not sure... I found out shortly- he was. After passing a few places I recognized, we were getting back on the highway and they asked me for money again. I said, "We didn't stop at the end?? Where are we going?" Not understanding a thing coming out of my mouth, they wanted me to buy another ticket... for the way back! The douche missed the end of the line. My class starts in 5 minutes, I'm spewing out as much Hindi as I can, trying to sound as mad as I really was, and leap off the moving bus, planning on hailing a rickshaw to get to class on time. If I could swear in Hindi, it would have been ugly. Now the rickshaws- usually even if you think the word "rickshaw", about 15 will swarm. But, when you actually need one, like I did... nothing. So there I am, running in my hiking boots and fleece jacket, sweating like a pig, everyone staring because that's what they do- and a white guy running down the street that no white people walk... ridiculous.

2) I tried to get to the museum last week. I had about 5 hours before my Hindi class... MORE than enough time to get to a museum less than 5 miles away, spend some time there, and catch a bus down to class. Not a chance. First, I got on the wrong bus. When I got off, I was clueless to where I was. So, being cheap, I refused to pay for a rickshaw and starting walking. What i've learned from walking MILES through this city is that the British, when creating this urban design, liked star-shaped road layouts. I'm use to the square blocks in America, where one street over, you're still going the same way. Here, if you get off track, you could end up 2 miles out of the way because the roads split away from eachother, out from a single round-a-bout. So, naturally, I ended up further from where I wanted. I finally found my location on my Lonely Planet map and had an idea of where to go. Once I got there, the ONE road that connected me to my destination, was closed- just that little segment... the detour was about a mile and a half. When I got to the museum, three hours had passed and I needed to save an hour for my ride to class.. because traffic here is so insane, it takes forever to get anywhere. In short, I finally made it but didn't have enough time to stay... so I left.

3)Getting back to Manju-ka-Tila. I have devoted entire days to the pursuit of this trip- hours of my life have been spent planning, walking, waiting, standing, asking, circling, going, returning, yelling, laughing... if there's any other human activity related to travel- done. And for what... The first day I really tried was almost a week ago. I had all day to make this trip. My only engagement was teaching at 4:30, and i was confident that, with an early start, I'd be in MKT for the morning and early afternoon, and enjoy a long but relaxing bus ride down to school- complete with sudden jerks and backfires. I had spent time online looking for a bus route (flawed, but my only option) the night before and felt confident that it was pretty foolproof. I was up early- you see, PLANNED! I ate my daily breakfast of 4 dosas and black tea with too much sugar. I was walking to the bus stop at 8 am, plenty of time. I was on the first bus within the half-hour. I knew exactly where I needed to get off to catch the next bus up to MKT. Unfortunately, the bus stop's name doesn't coordinate with the online name... strike 1. So I wander around a bit but finally find my way to the right building, in front of which I am to catch my connection. Unfortunately, there's a detour on the road and buses aren't running. Strike 2. I'm not even sure what side of the road i'm supposed to be on, so I ask some folks. Strike 3. I sit and wait for about 2 hours, because buses are coming on the other side of the road and decide that the bus has to come from somewhere sometime, and I can ask the driver. After all, the bus number is written on the bus stop sign... Strike 4. No bus comes. I don't even think that line runs anymore. So with not enough time to go now, and not enough time to go back to my hostel- I reorganize. I decide to try and make it to Lodhi Gardens- a public openspace that has been maintained and holds some of Delhi's most beautifully sculpted and placed tombs and mausoleums from the 1500s. I jump on a bus that I'm pretty sure goes to the gardens... Strike 5. I end up near my school. So I bust out my map and realize that i'm about 2 miles away- I start hoofing it! Too cheap to pay for the rickshaw, I pay in fatigue. By the time i've reached the gardens, i'm hot, sweaty, and starving. I give people the evil eye and refuse to entertain the "Which country?" questions that every conversation starts (and today) ends with.
I relax- I have about 2 hours before my class starts and I relish in a little solitude and quiet. After a crossword in the bonsai gardens and some Salmon Rushdie near the fountain, I start my on my way back. Now i'm not sure if I just am too stubborn to learn from my mistakes or genuinely believe I understand the Delhi road system, but I chose the long way back, naturally.
I just have not quite figured out that by taking 2 rights, you should be heading back in the exact direction you came from... I miss the rectangles of American urban planning- it allows cheap motherfucker's like me navigate unassisted. So 2 right turns later, and i'm about a mile and a half further from where I want to be when I started. I'm BEYOND hungry now, my eye lids are getting heavy, after all this free time i'm going to be late, and I have negative patience points. I scowl at beggars, threaten to kick stray dogs, and shoo away street urchins. The overwhelming stench of urine makes me angry... and 5 minutes later, i'm entering a class full of kids with the fakest smile I can muster. The DTC really fucked me lup.
That's day 1. Day 2 was just as lengthy, but even more defeating- I finally did arrive at MKT. The last bus told me they were going to MKT but dumped me out about 2 miles from the town. The sign on the highway pointed straight when I needed to go left. It was as if EVERY cosmic force was silently telling me, "It's not worth it! That place sucks"- I just kept on plodding. It took me 3 buses and 4 hours, but I had made the trip. I felt like Vasco de Gama, crossing the deadly seas with no clue where I was going, navigating all sorts of barriers and unexpected setbacks... but unlike his arrival (well, i'm assuming here) mine was no spice coast... Majnu-ka-Tila was just another dumpy urban pocket, extremely small, unimpressive, and lacking. I walked around, literally 5 minutes and I saw it all, and headed back. The icing on the cake- the bus I had been searcing for over the past week, the elusive 260, actually exists. I saw it with my own eyes! But when I came out of MKT, with only a desire to leave that which I had so eagerly and doggedly pursued, I found out that the bus had stopped running for the evening. I was stranded. Once not being able to get there- now not being able to leave. S-U-C-K-I-N-G the life out of me, one bus stop at a time.
LESSONS:
Now if I don't learn something from THIS- I should buy a ticket home immediately! Even if it ended in complete failure, the process was strangely educational. Why did I want to get there so badly? Shouldn't I have realized that maybe, it's just not a place to try and see via bus transportation? It wouldn't have been a concession to my own limitations- I DID, in fact, make it there eventually- but an acknowlegement that the situation is out of my control. I should invest my time and health, mental and physical, into something more rewarding. When is it the right time to say, "I'm ok if this does not work out."? The constant battle didn't rage within the halls of Delhi's Public Transportation Office- my frustration isn't winning court cases in the Indian Congress for Transport Reform. It was all in my own body... was it worth it? No, ha! That's the simple and truthful answer- it wasn't. AND- could I have realized that if I hadn't seen it to the end of its fruitless life? While I was storming towards Old Delhi, I was muttering, "There's no WAY that a bus is gonna fuck me up this badly!" So I kept going. If I had stopped my quest, I think I would have felt like i'd given up. And that's something deeper, a little more tricky to deal with. That innate feeling of failure- regardless of the circumstances.
If there's anything I've learned while traveling, it's the importance of flexibility. When you have a plan- the ONLY time you ever need to get something done- things fall apart. It's the only thing you can count on- uncertainty. To be able to stay relaxed- positive- intuitive and clear headed when things don't work out... it's a skill that i'm confident i'll gain, whether actively or unconsciously. And to have that translate to the people you meet on the road- to not kick stray dogs (i've never done this by the way), say hello to the street kids, smile and entertain the constant and random street conversations- even when you're about to explode...
So maybe my fruitless hours on the DTC will turn into something sweet and edible- lessons learned the hard way... i'm starting to realize, that lessons will always be learned- the way just does not have to be hard.