unknown by some.

Today is the 11^th of November.  I happened to be in the city at 10 30 and decided to stop by the tomb of the unknown soldier in the main business street of Sydney.  All the brass was there.. well.. a lot of it at least.  Important people in Australian society laied wreathes.  High ranking soldiers, politicians,  businessmen and women.

The last post was sounded . there was a minute’s silence.. the words.. “lest we forget” were read out by the speaker. it is a solemn occasion.  Remembrance of those who gave their lives for the freedoms that maintain the status here and in many other parts of the world..

Armistice day was at 11 am on nov. 11 1918  when the ceasefire went into effect.

Of course there are no diggers* left now.. but there were a couple of old soldiers from the second war,  and a few in the crowd from Vietnam who showed up.

The people who are highlighted are the soldiers who fell at the front. .  “they shall not weary…”

But actually.. it is the unsung heros that have made the difference. If you ask me.. the mothers who bore children to fight in one capacity or another..   the men and women who worked themselves to death to keep the place going while everyone else was away.. ..   the unsung heros .. the unknown soldiers are the ones that win the war and keep the place worth fighting for.  ( I don’t mean to take anything away from the courage of the soldier at the front, but he is doing his duty no more or less than the soldier who has no uniform at all.)

*digger is what the australians were called in the first world war (by the English I assume).. they were English who had gone digging for gold (in Australia.. that’s how I understood it at least

dilly delhi

Delhi strikes me as an unusual place.   I had expected something far more clichéd. It isn’t.. it’s a bit bizarre actually.. unusual. It is the political centre of India no doubt  but it seems to be eccentric…I get the impression that there is an awareness of the chilling seriousness of the role it plays in the country and an awareness of its own shortcomings..

Some of the people you come across here are really very sophisticated indeed as befits the capital of a populous country.

 there is a spotlessly clean park at the central roundabout called conaught place.. where the shiny traffic circles on polished bitumen.... but the rest of the entire country looks like a rubbish dump with pigs running around in it.. . Sorry .. to me it does.

 I just don’t believe it. delhi i mean.  Its on some different grid.

new delhi was designed by some architect as a candidate for the capital of the commonwealth by the looks.. but.. the reality is that the indians haven’t taken to the role.. no.. not at all really..  I wouldn’t hold my breath either.  The commonwealth is pretty much defunct anyway. The 19^th commonwealth games are playing here right now.. I don’t think anyone could care less.

delhi graffiti..

Delhi graffiti.

Graffiti is a greek word latinized;  romanized more like it as the latins were a pretty stolid lot unlike their cousins over the tiber,  and probably would never have scrawled on walls.

One reads it like writ.

On the wall in my hostel in delhi there  are comments about India and Indians left by travelers and those who may pass for travelers…(suffice it to say that) its not a 5 star hotel. The travelers have been the addicts and the lost.. the wide-eyed and curious.. the fortunate and the unfortunate: (and just plain travelers like your humble editor.)

Most of the comments are negative.  Indians are impolite, noisy, dirty, stupid, cheater, disgusting, superstitious…   a couple of people wrote ‘I will never return here.’..  there are dialogues.. like threads.. one person described India as an addiction; a sweet one.  One person said that travelers here come only because its cheap.. they come to meet other travelers and don’t give a stuff about the disgusting indians…

There is condemnation of the horrid middle class that has arisen here recently.    

there are prayers mostly om. Glyphs of anarchy.. infinity symbol, peace symbols, gay activism, others I don’t recognise at all.  There is the buddhist wheel of dharma.. .. some Korean .. some Japanese characters/kana. Some French.. one good one reads ‘qui sait se contenter est riche.’  He who is content is rich. The double meaning of which speaks loud and clear in this  hostel..  it has a bleak side.

It is actually not a bad spot.. its quiet ( from traffic noise at least)..bug free… it could do with a good dust out and wipe over but its not to0 dirty and is cheap.. centrally located in paharganj..  delhi’s tourist ghetto.

The trip up here wasn’t very good..

There was a 6 hour delay. Which meant a 8 hour wait at the station after 3 hours of jarring 4 wheel jeep down the hills from Darjeeling.. guh!..

That wasn’t so bad .. the waiting room in Indian stations are often fairly exhausting but usually interesting enough.  This one gave me the impression that the new jalpaiguri junction was totally organised and controlled by the elderly, benevolent Bengali woman in a yellow and orange cotton dress who hobbled/floated  up and down flanked by 2 overweight retainers who evidently cared for the old lady .. but  then the train was slow..   ..  very slow.. in fact over 30 hours longer than the trip should have been which was 33 hours.. so it was well  over 60 hours by the time the mahananda express rolled into old delhi station..  I could only get a sleeper class ticket and it was not comfortable, it was not adequately policed either and though nothing was stolen I was harassed a fair bit.… I arrived quite exhausted.. travel here is not for the infirm.  Trust me.