Persistent rickshaw drivers - This is starting to be very uncomfortable.   A third rickshaw driver picked us up on Saturday and told us our history! Bert and I had established that we would start with a quick visit to an enormous bazaar at the Indira Gandhi Cultural Center (close to India Gate, north of us) where I wanted to show him something in an exhibit on puppets and storytelling and from there go on to walk around Hauz Khaz which has the remains of Siri City (the second city of Delhi built in 14th century). 

Just a block south of the Cultural Center is the National Museum of History and there was a large chariot I wanted to show Bert.  We got out of our rickshaw here and Bert was suitably impressed with the chariot.  Coming out of the gates a pushy rickshaw driver asked where we wanted to go.  We pointed north to the next block and said we were walking.  He said "Cultural Center one and a half kilometers.  I take you both 10 rupees and then you like to see Indian Crafts, very fine things.  This Cultural Center, there is nothing to buy there.  You want to see fine Indian crafts, I take you."  I had been to the bazaar at the Cultural Center only days before.  It was a three minute walk and about 5 acres of stalls full of things to buy.  Bert bravely told this chap that we had plans to go to Haus Khaz, and we were walking the less than a block, thank you.  The persistent chap followed us up the road.    "No problem, you go here, I wait.  I take you to good place, very close, good price, you know festival time, and then I take you to Haus Khaz."  I tried to protest, but somehow we gave in.

Bert and I had a good time at the bazaar, where there was nothing to buy, and even got ourselves interviewed by some enthusiastic media students.  The rickshaw chappy, whose name I am delighted to have forgotten, was, of course, waiting for us. 'O, you find something to buy?'  Shameless chap!  He took off confidently, telling us he knew all about us, "You know Ranjeet Singh.  Sikh man?  He tell me.  You live Aman Hotel.  Most expensive hotel in Delhi.  You buy carpet.  How many carpet you buy?  What kind of carpet you buy?  You also go with Mr. Sharama (the other enterprising chap who picked Elaine and myself up)."  I am nudging Bert through  this deluge of questions: "Be vague in your answers, please." :)   20 minute drive later we arrived at another of those hard sell places full of fantastic things that we didn't want to buy.  Our driver was understandably saddened that we didn't pick up two silk carpets.

"Well thank you for showing us that, now could we push on to Haus Khaz."  "I take you to metro.  Very close.  Very easy."   The nerve of the fellow!  Needless to say he didn't get much of a fare from us for using up our time and dumping us at the metro.  However, the metro was great.  It got us down to Haus Khaz a lot faster and with less pollution than the tuktuk could have, but I am not sure it would be such fun without my strong defender and the reduced weekend traffic.

I am going to have to talk to Mr. Singh.  We clearly overpaid substantially for that carpet and his joy on his commission must have caused him to be too loquacious.

I wonder if the hotel is now being staked out and our descriptions circulated.