Travel log - 3

Nizamuddin.

In the macho spirit of one who travels with a haversack instead of a suitcase, I decide I will walk to N&D's home. It's a ten minute amble even if one stops to look for roses to smell.

A minute away from the station, and I'm beginning to wilt already. And regretting the sneering way I dismissed many importuning taxis, autorickshaws and rickshaws. Another thirty seconds and yet another rickshaw pedals by asking for my custom. I give in. I fifteen or so pedal strokes later, I'm there, shamefacedly explaining to the sinewy rickshaw pedaller that it was the haversack, and I normally can do this easily. And I give him a twenty instead of the ten he asks for.

It's hush money.