Le Corbusier did not plan New Delhi
I have been here before, the real

official office not fake?  he asks

the man in English, then bickers on

in Hindi	 huge map spread across

the desk: pictures of white people

on camels, tigers, the Taj Mahal

Tea? I say no, he asks again, nono

(he’d just told me not to accept tea

from strangers in Delhi – one tourist

woke up, lost all his possessions…)

I say no again. He asks 	where

do you come from? fuck, I have to

say it again — australiaCricket!!

where do I come from? 	where

      do you want to go? the Punjab

        trying to pronounce it properly

he answers, 	      the Golden Temple

2 days, then you go down to Rajasthan

everyone says I should go to Rajasthan

makes me not want to go to Rajasthan

asks where you want to go, I dunno

starts listing all the places I will go

I will go here go there go there	 nono

this is my trip	 I want a train ticket to

Amritsar 	   what you want to do there?

	     I’ll go to the Partition museum

	his eyes sharpen, he keeps talking

	      then you go to Rajasthan then

you go to Goa, Varanasi 	  I need to go

I say sorry I am sorry to waste your time

these men always sweet sweet chai until

furious 	    he yells, don’t be sorry this

is business! I go downstairs, thick with

pollution, light up a cigarette, offer him

one. he smokes, oh sorry bro I know

they were trying to rip you off, I’ll tell you

	        it’s because you look like tourist

you need to buy Indian clothes, you’ll look

	  like second Indian, let me show you

	  a place – not like these other places

	     where you take the cloth from out

     the underground knot of no fixed price

    wash it once, it falls apart – no, I know

         a real good place, come with me

we go there! 	   around the corner,

the door shuts, mutes horns, a man

sitting behind a long glass cabinet

beneath a wall of plastic wrapped

kurtas: 	    peach, aqua, patterned

 	    what is your favourite colour

         let me show you one more thing

     this one is reversible, you see blue

          on one side, black on the other

	    specially designed, Kashmiri

pashmina, hand stitched, fine quality

7,200 rupee – I do a quick division

in my head. that is too much, blush

apologise. he insistently shows me

another, another, another, he says

what price,        just tell me a price

I will not be offended.    I offer him

less than half (haggler’s law) has to

ask the boss, stern in a linen thobe

he approves, but insisting, walks me

over to the jewellery, when you mine

you don’t know what you’ll discover

topaz, ruby, emerald – I want

	to leave, I count up crumpled

	notes, get out before he sells

	me more, I’m told he’s frustrated

	I know how to bargain, the clothes

	fall apart as soon as I get home