and a Holy Man will rise from Delhi...

In my iPod: How to be Dead - Snow Patrol
State of mind: baked
Location: Delhi, India

You know after I decided to give up my life in the city and move back to my little home town at the very east side of peninsular Malaysia, I pretty much turned into a hermit. Coming to a fucking place like Delhi is kinda daunting. I am so used to the quiet peaceful and slow laid back life in Kuantan and to me, this place was like a huge behemoth version of Kuala Lumpur's Pudu Raya bus stop. There were flies every fucking where; maybe it was the super hot weather that is definitely above 40'C or maybe there are just too much shit or things that look like shit lying around.

On my way in search of a hotel for the night, a fucking diaper headed salesperson came up to me. Seeing that I have the word “tourist” inscribed all over my forehead, he tried to sucker me into buying his fucking merchandise. I said no even before he fucking show me his fucking product but he insisted and so he quickly demonstrated his fucking product as I was walking. I tell you, this fucker was a fucking juggernaut when it comes to persistence. His fucking product was a plastic cylinder-like juicer with fucking blades in it. He then fucking pulls out an orange from his pants and puts it into the juicer and squeeze and there was plenty of juice that came out. He then popped the lit and offered me to taste the juice. I mean WTF! You must be kidding me right? I don't even know where the fuck the orange came from or has been. But I do know that you aren't going to make me drink the juice from something that just came out of your pants. Oh Hell no, that orange was just inches away from his dick. Even though it was only for 10 rupees, fuck you primitive fuck, read my fucking lips: no means no.

I was hot, tired, dehydrated from all the roaming and searching for a decent hotel in the street which I don't even wanna attempt to spell. This is what you get for not doing your fucking homework. If I don't get a place to rest soon I was going to zonk out in the middle of the fucking street. So I told myself that I will stay in the next hotel or inn or whatever I can lay my ass down for the night. And it was there I found my place to stay, the Dhalun hotel.

When I got to the room, it looks pretty decent enough, small but basic. Even though the mattress was just about an inch thick but after all the walking and the heat that I endured today, this was paradise.

But my paradise seems lost after I took a peak into the toilet and fucking found that the crapping throne looks like this …

Don't ask me what the fuck are the yellow stain but if you really wanna know, I think the fucker who did his business here must have had too much Dhal in his diet. They say that India is a spiritual place where most holy men emerge; well, they are going to have a new holy man soon. A holy man who doesn't have to crap for 6 months.

xniquet's journey across India