Pahar Ganj

I'm not such a big fan of Indian cities. When I arrive in one I sort of panic a bit, flounder around and sweat a lot, looking to all the world like a naive and inexperienced backpacker. Then I get ripped off with my accomodation because I'm usually tired at the end of a long journey and I don't want the hassle of the haggle. Finally I end up looking for the quickest and simplest way out and, ticket purchased, hole up in my room watching HBO and Star Movies until the appointed hour of my departure arrives.

Let’s face it – I AM a naïve and inexperienced backpacker.

On my first trip to Delhi I ended up having a lovely couple of days with a lovely Israeli girl. With her by my side - bold, brash and beautiful in the mould of so many of her countryfolk - I felt empowered and walked the mean streets of Pahar Ganj with a certain swagger. I even felt brave enough to book a ticket on a bus to troubled Kashmir. When she left and I began to regret my ill-conceived decision to go to Kashmir everything quickly fell to pieces. For a start, my bus to Kashmir was delayed for a day so I had to spend another night in Delhi. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was in Delhi and didn't want to be there. I was going to Kashmir and didn't want to go there either. I began to become intimidated by India, alone as I was in this vast city in this vast country. I did not feel in control of my fate whatsoever. I wanted to go home.

Then a cow pissed on my foot. That was the last straw. I disappeared into my hotel room and didn't appear again until the bus to Kashmir was leaving. It turned out that Kashmir was quite intimidating too but that's another story. Leaving Delhi on that bus however was a pleasant experience indeed.

On my return to Delhi I wanted to do it right - no hotel rip-offs, no smooth travel agents persuading me to go to places I didn't want to go to, no floundering and sweating, no cows pissing on me... I'm pleased to say that in the end I did do it right - well, half right, anyway. There was a moment when, shortly after I had arrived from the airport, the receptionist in the Pahar Ganj hotel I had found myself in by some accident or twist of fate asked me, quite reasonably, if I wanted a fan or aircon room. I responded, "I don't know! I don't even want to be here!"

I felt like a jibbering naïve and inexperienced backpacker.

The following day I had more balls and managed to negotiate my way with all my bags through the back streets of Pahar Ganj until I located the main bazarre. That was thoroughly good work, believe me. Alas, I was totally confused once I'd reached the bazarre and spent ten minutes wandering up and down looking for the Nepali shop where I'd reserved my bus ticket earlier that day. Agitated, I wandered past a smooth Kashmiri travel agent - "Hey man, what you looking for? Where you going? You sweating man! Chill out! Come to my place..." I politely explained that I didn’t need his help or him in my face but he wouldn’t stop sleazing all over me – I have never known a group of individuals who love themselves as much as the Kashmiri men in Pahar Ganj. In the end I lost my rag, turned around and snarled, "Your place? You mean Kashmir? I've been there mate and it's a fucking shithole! Now please fuck off and leave me alone!"

I don't lose my cool often but when I do...

Pahar Ganj is - for me, at least - one of the craziest places in India. I have no doubt that it's relatively sedate and civilised compared to many places in India – places like the charmingly named Black Hole of Calcutta for example - but I have my reasons for being slightly anxious when I'm within it's precincts, reasons I've just explained - the place has demons for me. Situated centrally in the country’s capital, it is a bit like Delhi’s equivalent of the Koh San Road in Bangkok, in that much of Delhi's backpacker community centres around it's main bazarre, which provides pretty much every item a backpacker in transit needs from a place - apart from peace and quiet perhaps.

With these photographs I wanted to capture some of this intensity and vibrancy, the bustle and the commerce which makes Pahar Ganj so fascinating to me and which, for better or worse, has given me some of my most profound and startling experiences of India.

View my Pahar Ganj photographs