The Unpleasant Experience of Hiring a Driver in India

Darkness turned to daylight as we awaited our driver. At least we had stray dogs to keep us company

Our road trip from Baroda to Dungarpur taught us not to expect your driver to speak English, show up on time or care about your sanity.

We weren't having any luck finding a driver who spoke English. (Prakash informed us that people who spoke English got the good jobs, and apparently “chauffeur” doesn’t fit into that category.)

An online search revealed a company called TaxiForSure. It seemed professional. It was also pretty much our only option. So we arranged transport to Dungapur. We requested a pick-up of 5 a.m. According to Google Maps, it’s a pretty straightforward four-hour drive from Baroda.

“A sullen, if handsome, 20-something driver showed up, playing what seemed to be techno versions of Bollywood music blared at full volume.”

At 5 the next morning, our friend and host George got a confirmation text from TaxiForSure, which provided the driver’s name, license plate number and estimated arrival time.

A few minutes later, he received a call from someone at TaxiForSure, who regretted to inform us that our original driver would not be coming — his car broke down.

I’d like to point out that no matter how much you try to plan, things can change unexpectedly (and inevitably, it seems), for India moves in its own unpredictable way.

We were waiting outside in front of George’s apartment building (he calls it his “tenement”). George saves his kitchen scraps to leave outside for the cows. As he was tossing a bag onto the heap, a neighbor who was up early yelled at him, telling him not to just throw it there — that there’s an actual place to leave food scraps down the street near the ashram. The neighbor was just doing his part to attempt to reduce the ridiculous amount of garbage strewn about. Indeed, everywhere you go, you see cans, paper and plastic bags picked at and chewed on by rats, jackdaw birds, stray dogs and cows.

How “OK, OK” Can Mean Anything But

We waited. George called back after a half-hour had passed, and then again every 15 minutes. The conversations went something like this:

“The driver is in the area.”

“The driver is very close.”

“The driver is 3 to 5 minutes away.”

“The driver is 2 to 3 minutes away.”

George hung up in a huff. “Indians will always tell you, ‘OK, OK,’” he said. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It can mean he’s hours away, or he could be here in 5 minutes. I’ve learned they tell you what you want to hear — even if it’s not the truth.”

Two hours in total had passed before George received another text from TaxiForSure.

Your taxi has arrived.

It was now 7 a.m.

Beep! Beep! A sullen, if handsome, 20-something driver named Pankach, who only spoke Gujarati showed up, playing what seemed to be techno versions of Bollywood music blared at full volume, which we endured the entire trip.

Before we left Baroda, he pulled the car over, and a man approached and gave him a bag full of clothes. Then our road trip was in full swing.

Road Trippin'

Once we were outside the city limits, the scenery changed, and we began to pass rural homes, which were transformed into hand-painted advertisements for the sturdy but humble materials cement and brick.

Many of the signs touted Ambuja Cement. The company's logo is a comically proportioned man with a tiny head and a ginormous right bicep embracing a pair of buildings.

Elaborate conical Hindu temples dotted the landscape, confections in bubblegum pink, white, mint and lemon yellow. Cloth flags atop spires fluttered in the breeze.

We weren't sure we were ever going to make it. But we were finally en route to Dungapur, otherwise known as the City of Hills, located at the southernmost Aravalli mountains of Rajasthan.

We almost got used to the Bollywood Molly dance party in the car. Almost. –Duke

RELATED: 3 Tips for Hiring a Driver in India

“No matter how much you try to plan, things can change unexpectedly (and inevitably, it seems), for India moves in its own unpredictable way.”

Places to Visit in Vadodara: Ganesha Temple and Sayaji Baug

Visitors leave their shoes outside the Dhundiraj Ganpati Mandir temple in Baroda, India

The zoo is a popular attraction, while the Dhundiraj Ganpati Mandir Temple could be Baroda’s best-kept secret.

At the edge of Sursagar Lake, we asked an auto rickshaw driver if he could take us to the Dhundiraj Ganpati Temple, which is located deep within the city’s old quarter.

He responded with, “OK, OK,” which George warned us is what Indians say no matter what you ask. In this case, I’d like to point out that “OK’’ didn’t mean that the driver knew exactly where the temple was. We quickly realized this, as he proceeded to get lost and stopped frequently, asking for directions, bumming a cigarette off a couple of nonplussed college students.

“Patrons looked upon the mouse deity with reverence, genuflecting and kissing its feet.”

As we made our way into the winding streets of the old quarter, we passed innumerable buildings, some crumbling, while others have collapsed into rubble.

George commented, “They don't even know how to get around their own city — but how could they?" And he’s right. Baroda’s labyrinthine lanes are as if a child imagined it, with every usable square foot of space occupied.

When we finally arrived, it turned out the Mandir was closed. Our driver got out and knocked on a doorway not far from the temple entrance to ask what time it opens. That’s not something that would have occurred to us Westerners. We would have just looked for a sign, and not finding one, would have left disappointed.

Check out the snouts on these gharial crocodiles at the zoo in Baroda

Zootopia

We had hours to kill before the temple opened, so we headed off to the zoo.

En route, we passed the Baroda Museum and Gallery. The structure was designed to resemble the Victoria & Albert Museum of London. Built in 1894, it contains a collection of art, sculpture, ethnography and ethnology.

The zoo is part of a large park called Sayaji Baug. We strolled past a small mound with a sun motif that turned out to be a clock made of flowers.

We also crossed over train tracks. The train was a gift to the children of Baroda from the Gaekwad dynasty and has since been replaced with a larger version that also accommodates adults.

Our favorite part of the zoo was the gharial crocodiles. The name originates from the Hindu word ghara, which is a clay pot with a long neck, much like their narrow snout shape. The male crocodile has a bulbous growth at the end of its snout.

Time for a Temple Run

Later that day, we returned to Dundiraj Ganpati Mandir, which was built 169 years ago. One of the city’s oldest, most cherished temples dedicated to the elephant-headed god Ganesha, it’s the only one made completely out of wood.

An intricately carved and painted door at the wooden Dhundiraj Ganpati Mandir Temple in Vadodara, India

The temple exterior is a pale green and quite dilapidated. But as you pass through the entrance doors and into a small courtyard, the temple itself appears in a lovely shade of blue.

Worshippers kiss the feet of Kroncha, a mouse deity, at a temple in Vadodara, India

The first thing we saw was Kroncha, the mouse. Instead of being in his usual spot at the feet of Ganesha, he was located atop a pedestal. Patrons looked upon the deity with reverence, genuflecting and kissing its feet. Perhaps one of the reasons he's a popular Hindu deity is that he is known as the destroyer of all obstacles. And here we thought elephants were scared of mice.

Worshippers inside a temple to Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu deity

The marble idol of Lord Ganesha is placed with idols of his wives Riddhi and Siddhi within the inner temple.

The Buddha's footprints at the Dhundiraj Ganpati Mandir Temple in Baroda, India

Off to the side of the temple, in a courtyard in the back, don’t miss the Buddha’s stone footprints, which were covered with scattered petals or puja, a ritual offering of flowers as a symbol of love and devotion.

The temple's not easy to get to — but it's worth the effort. –Duke

A Guide to Indian Street Food: Vadodara Edition

Wally, George, Manvi and Duke stuffing themselves silly on all-you-can-eat thali

We have thali with the prettiest transsexual in Gujarat and sample paan, gulab jamun, pani puri and jelabi.

George took us to the offices of two NGOs, Lakshya Trust and Project Pehchān. The staff had just sat down to lunch to share some tiffin that had been delivered. They were so sweet, offering some to us. 

But we had other plans. We invited two hijra to join us for lunch, but Angeli had just had a sex change operation (she had her testicles removed; the penis would be a later surgery) and was on a strict diet of food she had to prepare at home to prevent infection. So the gorgeous Manvi joined us. 

“I’ve never been very good at spitting. The reddish-brown fluid left my mouth in sloppy, staccato bursts.”

thali

We walked down the street to experience the Gujarati version of thali, which George called "Indian tapas." 

We were seated at a table, where four round stainless steel trays were placed in front of us, each holding four small ramekins.

We had barely been there for 30 seconds before the servers, each bearing one item, began to fill our ramekins with food — which they will do continuously until you ask them to stop. We stuffed ourselves silly.

The meal included: 

• Roti
• Moong dal
• Curries
• Chana masala
• Sabzi

It was all washed down with chaas, a buttermilk drink.

gulab jamun

For dessert we tried gulab jamun, which are balls of deep-fried ricotta-like cheese soaked in a sugary syrup and flavored with green cardamom and rose water.

paan

After lunch, George took us to a stall where we tried a traditional digestive known as paan.

It was quite the production and fun to watch. The paan vendor spread a seemingly absurd amount of ingredients onto a moist betel leaf, including:

• Rosewater jam
• Mint
• Camphor
• Tobacco
• Rajsi gulab (cardamom seed pieces coated with silver — yes, actual silver!)

He folded these into compact triangular pouches that you pop into your mouth, gently chew and suck the insides out. The sensation was odd — like chewing a waxy tree leaf with an astringent, menthol wood-mulch filling.

The act produces an ample amount of saliva, which you're meant to expectorate. I’ve never been very good at spitting. The reddish-brown fluid left my mouth in sloppy, staccato bursts.

pani puri, or golgappas

The sidewalk that surrounds Sursugar Lake in the middle of Baroda is truncated. It would suddenly disappear, forcing us to walk amidst the chaotic traffic of auto rickshaws, cars and mopeds.

A 120-foot-tall statue of Lord Shiva stands at the center of the lake.

As we started our circumambulation, we saw a small billboard atop the Art Deco façade of the Pratap Cinema that displayed the peculiarly titled action movie Baby.

When we had almost gone all the way around the lake, we stopped at a street vendor selling a popular street sweet called pani puri, or golgappas.

This is one of George's favorite snacks and he treated us to the tiny, spherical fried puffs, which are briefly submerged in flavored coconut water, popped in the mouth and eaten whole.

jalebi

To complete our Gujarati culinary tour, George also took us to a sweet shop where we purchased jalebi, a traditional Indian sweet similar to a funnel cake. It's made with whole-wheat flour and is soaked in sugar syrup. Saffron in color, they're compact, coil-shaped, glossy and sweet. –Duke

Laxmi Vilas Palace, Vadodara

Laxmi Vilas Palace in Vadodara, India, as seen from the back gardens

One of the must-see places to visit in Vadodara, India.

 

When we awoke early the following morning, the nearby ashram was playing devotional music, which George says is the same every day. Somehow there is something soothing in these sounds, paired with the way the light filtered through the window, a pink lemonade sun rising beside a lone radio tower.

Our first stop of the day was the Laxmi Vilas Palace. Home to the Gaekwad dynasty, the surname supposedly roughly translates to “cow door.” Or maybe “protector of cows.”

“Mant committed suicide for fear that he had got his calculations wrong and that the place would fall down.”

We stopped at the reception desk to pick up audio guides and met Avanish Pawal. He asked where we were from, as a relative of his is working in Milwaukee as an interior designer. He informed us that a few of the rooms were closed to the public because there was a photography shoot in progress.

We began our tour by viewing the palace from the garden, with its European-style statues, including a beautifully carved peacock urn.

Commissioned by Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad III, the palace’s original design was by architect Major Charles Mant, but was finished by Robert Fellowes Chisholm in 1890 after Mant committed suicide for fear that he had got his calculations wrong and that the place would fall down.

Duke and Wally in front of Laxmi Vilas Palace, a highlight of Vadodara, India

The palace was erected in Indo-Saracenic style — a fusing of traditional Indian design elements, Mughal Empire Saracenic style and Gothic Revival, which were favored by both Mant and Chisholm.

Local tradition holds that it was the most expensive private building constructed anywhere in the world during the 19th century.

At the time of construction, its interiors were considered quite modern, resembling a European estate with such amenities as elevators.

Part of the ground floor is open to the public. However, photography of the interior is prohibited.

One of the highlights for me was the armory, which displayed an impressive collection of swords, maces and claw-like weapons designed to fit over the knuckles called bagh naka, which means “tiger’s claw” in Hindi.

We didn’t get to see Durbar Hall, as it was closed for an elaborate photography shoot. But we did get to enjoy the Italianate courtyard with its marble statuary and water fountains just outside of it.

Gorgeous interior courtyard at Laxmi Vilas Palace in Vadodara, India

If there’s one attraction to see in Vadodara (commonly known as Baroda), this is it. –Duke

Our First Night in Baroda, India

Wally visiting his friend George, an American expat now living in India

Wherein we travel to Vadodara, meet Prakash and learn a secret gay greeting.

 

Maps will tell you the city is now known as Vadodara (pronounced "Va-doh-dra")  — but most everyone we mentioned the name to just stared at us, blinking uncomprehendingly, until we followed up with, "Baroda." 

"Ah, yes, Baroda." 

“It translates to something like “I touch (or kiss) your feet.””

Flying High With IndiGo Airlines

We took the no-frills airline IndiGo for our flight to Baroda.

They have two ramps — one in the front and one in the back — which made boarding a smooth, pleasant experience.

Their cheeky in-flight magazine is called Hello 6E (which we imagine is a play upon "hello, sexy").

Not only was the flight on time, a testament to IndiGo's commitment to punctuality, the plane interior was clean and comfortable.

How to Greet Gays in India

Our host George met us at the airport and we headed for his apartment, located in the Ellora Park district, via a green and yellow auto rickshaw. He lives in what he described as a middle-class apartment complex and pays $160 a month for rent.

As we caught up, George told us that his friend Prakash was stopping by to meet us and taught us a phrase adopted by the Gujarati gay community. It's borrowed from the hijra (India's transsexuals) and is pronounced, "Pah-ga lah-goo." It translates to something like "I touch (or kiss) your feet." To really impress the person you meet, you drag out the last syllable so it's something like, "Pah-ga lah-goooooooooo!"

Prakash is employed by an NGO and distributes condoms and safe-sex literature. He has a soft, round, feminine face, with a touch of gloss on his full lips and perfectly plucked eyebrows, framed by dark, slightly wavy hair. This may explain why some men perceive him as hijra. He belongs to Dalit, the lowest caste, considered untouchable.

He's a total sweetheart and helps George out as a sort of assistant. We learned that the name Prakash means "light" in Hindi.

Our bringer of "light" was also quite a character. 

"Justin Bieber" — which he pronounced "Bay-burr" — "is my boyfriend," he said, smiling naughtily, "and Obama is my husband." –Duke

Mehrauli Archeological Park: Delhi's Hidden Gem

Wally overcame his fear of heights to shimmy along narrow ledges at the Rajon Ki Baoli stepwell in Mehrauli Archeological Park

An ancient stepwell in the jungle is one of Delhi's lesser-known attractions.

Talk about off the beaten path — even our driver had to ask directions to find Mehrauli Archeological Park. But it's a fun adventure, especially the stepwell.

The park lies beyond the Qutb Minar complex and was the site of the first urban settlement in Delhi.

“One false step, and you could plummet to almost certain demise.”

We drove through a slum, taking a dirt road and arriving at Rajon Ki Baoli, a stepwell built by Dalat Khan during the reign of Sikander Lodi in 1516.

Duke at the Rajon Ki Baoli stepwell in Mehrauli Archeological Park

Rajon Ki Baoli

The remains of ancient hydraulic systems, stepwells were of special importance as a source of water, a place to socialize and provide relief during extreme summer heat.

Wally in the mosque atop the stepwell

We stepped into the cool recess of one of the porticoes located near the perimeter ledge and made our ascent up a pitch-black, narrow flight of stairs, the walls smoothened from the passing of a thousand hands. We arrived at a landing, which included a small, elevated tomb and mosque. Its inner walls contained marks of vandalism etched into the walls.

Warning: If you suffer from vertigo, like Wally, you could be at risk here. There aren't any guardrails, and some of the paths are narrow. One false step, and you could plummet to almost certain demise.

Jamali-Kamali Mosque

After we visited the stepwell, our driver took us to the Jamali-Kamali Mosque. Local lore holds that banished djinn haunt the mosque and converse with passersby in animal voices.

There's not a lot to see here. But two security guards unlocked an iron gate and led us to a rooftop courtyard, which included a mausoleum ornamented with the remains of cobalt blue-colored tile and some unmarked cenotaphs.

After we had a good look around, they led us back out, and we realized they were expecting baksheesh (a tip) as a reward.

Metcalf's Canopy

Built in 1850 by Charles Metcalf as an architectural folly — an ornamental structure intended to look old — Metcalf's Canopy sits atop a small grassy hill and overlooks the Jamali-Kamali Mosque.

While here we saw a couple being filmed. We didn't know if it was a scene from a Bollywood movie or an elaborate engagement video. 

Another highlight: We saw three puppies pile together to bask in the sunlight and take an afternoon nap. –Duke

“Local lore holds that banished djinn haunt the mosque and converse with passersby in animal voices.”

Exploring the Qutb Minar Complex

The Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque in the Qutb Minar complex features columns from pillaged Hindu and Jain temples.

A must-see attraction in Delhi, these towers and mosques feature aspects of Hindu, Jain and Islamic architecture.

We had a great time wandering the Qutb Minar complex one afternoon. Here we break down the various parts.

Alai Minar

We ate lunch on the low stone wall that faced the Alai Minar, an enormous grooved stump of lime mortar and rubble masonry that reminded me of smaller version of the Devils Tower National Monument.

“Anyone who can stand with his or her back to the pillar and link their hands behind it will be blessed with good fortune. ”

The unfinished monument, looming 80 feet above the landscape, was the Muslim ruler Ala-ud-din Khilj's failed grand attempt to build a tower twice the height of the Qutb Minar. Through an opening in the rubble, you can see the inner core, around which the staircase would have been built.

Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque

We passed through a pillared colonnade built from the inventive reuse of pillaged temples that had previously existed on the site and entered the Indo-Islamic Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque. An inscription on the eastern portal states that the structure was built with material from 27 demolished Hindu and Jain temples.

Elaborate pillars stolen from other religions' temples now decorate the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque.

Fragments of friezes depicting humans, animals and deities can be seen incorporated into the structure. Many of these motifs appear out of place, what with the Islamic tendency to find human depictions blasphemous, relying instead on geometric pattern. Perhaps these were used as a political statement of the people they conquered.

Standing within the courtyard of the mosque is a curious, virtually corrosion-free 35-foot iron pillar that dates back to the 4th century CE. It bears an inscription stating that it was erected as a flagstaff in honor of the Hindu god Vishnu.

Popular tradition holds that anyone who can stand with his or her back to the pillar and link their hands behind it will be blessed with good fortune. However, a fence erected in 1997 now keeps fortune-seekers away, likely put in place to prevent damage to the column from sweat — which contains a high amount of salt that acts as a corrosive agent.

Qutb-Minar

Next to the mosque is the Qutb-Minar in red and buff sandstone. We thought perhaps that we would not be able to get a decent picture of the tower due to the amount of haze. However, moving to the opposite side, the foggy gloom miraculously disappeared, and we were able to take some beautiful shots.

The Qutb Minar tower

Qutb-ud-din Aibak erected the tallest brick minaret in the world in 1193 after the defeat of Delhi's last Hindu kingdom. It was constructed to celebrate the victory of Mughal armies over the Hindu rulers. It has five distinct levels, each decorated differently, with a small balcony separating them.

Having recently read William Dalrymple's City Of Djinns, I could not find a more suitable description than his “like a fully extended telescope placed lens-down on a plateau in the Aravalli hills.”

Wally wanted to know why the tower was closed. I had read that there was some sort of stampede, where a bunch of people got trampled trying to exit en masse.

Alai Darwaza

Originally conceived as one of four grand gates to the mosque, the Alai Darwaza was the only structure to be completed. The domed gateway is decorated with red sandstone and contrasting white marble bands carved with calligraphic inscriptions.

The red sandstone and white marble façade of the Alai Darwaza Mosque in the Qutb Minar complex

Visitors leave the Alai Darwaza Mosque in the shadow of the Qutb Minar.

We entered the vaulted space, which is punctuated by intricately carved stone jali screens. Dust motes floated in the bright, pervasive sunlight as it passed through, casting star-shaped patterns onto the gate interior. It's an impressive sight.

If we had to choose between the Red Fort and Qutb Minar, we’d take this complex any day. –Duke

India’s Public Urination Problem

India's more recent campaign to shame men who urinate in public

Ho ho shame shame! With Indian men seemingly peeing everywhere but in a toilet, the country has come up with an unusual campaign to shame offenders.

The billboard certainly caught our eye. It featured a young girl, hand raised to her mouth, with the slogan, “Papa!! Ho Ho Shame Shame! You are urinating in public?”

Using the concept that there is no better deterrence than shaming from your peers to encourage others to change their behavior, India has created a campaign with the objective of preventing public urination.

“Toilets first and temples later.”

— Prime Minister Narendra Modi

In smaller type at the bottom of the sign were instructions on where to upload images of offenders.

This wasn't something we observed occasionally while traveling in India. It was something we observed continually. Indian men who felt the urge urinated anywhere, without reservation, backs turned to the world, disregarding the consequences of their actions. We heard that the soil as well as the water have become subject to bacterial contamination.

The problem is also due to the lack of access to toilets in both urban and rural areas. Considering the abundance of Hindu shrines, current Prime Minister Narendra Modi was prompted to declare, "Toilets first and temples later." –Duke

The Best Place to Make Out in Public in Delhi

These elephants greet you upon entering the Garden of Five Senses in Delhi

Not a typical tourist stop, the Garden of Five Senses is a whimsical sculpture park worth visiting. It's also popular with local couples escaping societal judgment against PDA.

Congestion does not begin to describe traffic in Delhi. It follows its own logic, and yet somehow, miraculously, it works — blowing horns and all. A red light means you might want to consider stopping. Or not.

Driver: Obama came for visit. Business relationship is very good. China is very jealous.

“This was clearly a spot favored by amorous young couples.”

Wally noticed a sign for the Garden of Five Senses and we asked our driver to take us there. He referred to it as Honeymoon Park. He thought we were crazy to want to go there.

Young couples were aggressively pushing past us to purchase tickets to gain admission. In addition to admission fees for sites in India, many have an additional photography fee that you have to pay if you want to take pictures inside the site. We were not permitted to enter the park without a photography permit.

This was clearly a spot favored by amorous young couples to spend time away from the public eye, tucked into the privacy of shadowed archways or behind a curved wall, locked in an embrace and kissing. I felt that we had entered a subworld, as Indian society is generally conservative, especially in regards to public displays of affection. Ironically, there's a sign on the ticket kiosk exclaiming in capital letters, PLEASE MAINTAIN DECENCY.

Duke in the Garden of Five Senses. Note the couple(s) hidden in the nook below

A random highlight was a colorfully decorated camel, which is apparently available for rides.

Overall, the park is fun to explore, with a variety of styles of statues. You feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland, never knowing what lies ahead.

Children of the Street

Back in the car, two children performed on a narrow packed dirt median while our car was paused at a light. The young boy beat a tabla drum, while the young girl proceeded to execute three perfect back flips. Wally rolled down the window and gave her 4 rupees, which she took and ran ahead.

Our driver smiled and looked at Wally in the rearview mirror. He explained that the government pays for two children to go to school, but since families often end up having more than two children, the others are forced to beg for money. –Duke

“You feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland, never knowing what lies ahead.”

3 Tips for Hiring a Driver in India

In Baroda, as in all of India, you'll be sharing the road with cows

Commissions and conversations: what to expect from your hired drivers.

The next morning we enjoyed parantha and pao bhurji for breakfast. Our friend George later explained that pao means bun.

We followed the same routine as the day before and stopped by the tourist office above Amici Cafe, except that instead requesting a return to our hotel, we required transportation to the airport.

“As shocking as this might be, we decided to skip the Taj Mahal.”

We packed up our luggage and put it in the back. Our driver asked us where we wanted to go. We told him Qutb Minar and Hauz Khas Village. He asked why we wanted to go to Hauz Khas, telling us, “It's very expensive, no negotiation, fixed prices.” We told him that we were looking for handicrafts, preferably old and/or painted wood, and he assured us that he had a special place to take us to should we like.

You'll be taken to shops where they'll expect you to buy something — and will be upset if you don't.

We've come to accept that a hired driver is likely to take you to patronize businesses where they make a commission. The shop usually pays the guide if the tourist makes a purchase. In our case, we were a hard sell, and our driver was clearly expecting us to make more purchases. He would click his tongue when we left a shop he took us to empty-handed.

Sometimes it's easier to lie.

We were asked by both of our drivers how long we were going to be in India and if we had plans to see the Taj Mahal? As shocking as this might be, we decided to skip the Taj Mahal. We know it's the pride of India and all that — but we had other things we wanted to see on this trip. 

Almost everyone we met asked us if we were visiting the Taj, and we found it easier to lie and just say yes rather than face their indignation.

Don't let them tell you where to go.

We agreed to skip Hauz Khas (a decision we would live to regret), and our driver took us to a shop located beneath a flyover. According to the gentleman who greeted us, we were the first customers, and as such, he would offer us a very fair price. We politely told him that we were just looking and attempted to wander through unmolested. But this proved to be impossible as we were the sole customers.

We attempted to have a genuine conversation with our salesman, and he told us a story about a rabbit as big as a donkey.

The shop had many beautiful things, but most of them were at a price well above what we had been looking to spend. We did end up purchasing a figurine of Krishna and his consort Rada, though.