Made-up Indian jokes #6

Q: What did the Indian cop do after catching the minced meat lady thief?
A: Kofta.


THINK ABOUT IT.

India part 18b: Wagah

Arriving at Wagah, where India borders Pakistan, you feel like you're part of a line of refugees, with the presence of stern police on horseback ensuring it's the only queue in the whole of India that's actually single file. The Rough Guide to India got there first in describing Wagah's daily face-off "Pythonesque", but there isn't another word for it as far as I can tell: Indian border guards with massive handlebar moustaches and gaudy uniforms high-kick marching like their lives depended on it, the crowd cheering like crazy, and their Pakastani counterparts across the border apparently doing the same. It's two nuclear powers facing off in the silliest way possible every day - I'm not sure whether it's comforting or terrifying.

I found out afterwards that we would have got a better view if we'd flashed our passports, which gets you admitted to the VIP stand. A shame, but then again, the Indian men-only stand was were the atmosphere was at and where all the chants were coming from ("Bharat Mataji!"). As long as you don't mind some dude with a distinctly un-Western concept of personal space using your shoulder to rest his arm on, what's not to love?

I first heard about this place on John Sergeant's BBC documentary about the Indian railways, but it seems this is a bit of a rite of passage for Beeb correspondents making programmes about the subcontinent...

Made-up Indian jokes #5

Q: Why did Mr Schuester put clarified butter in his hair?
A: He wanted to join Ghee club.

Signs I have seen #231

"Especially you, with your gammy leg and everything."

Made-up Indian jokes #4

Q: What's the best hair-of-the-dog Indian beverage?
A: Lassi.

Look, I warned you, all right?

India part 18a: Amritsar

Oops. Sikhs holy city Amritsar seemed like a foreign country, perhaps because the combination of cold and fog had everyone shuffling around draped in blankets like turbaned Clint Eastwoods. I'm slightly concerned the thing I'll remember about this part of the trip will be a minibus journey during which I sat in the front between Sarah and the dead-behind-the-eyes driver, with one leg either side of the gearstick, hoping the latter wasn't feeling frisky. Hopefully these pictures of the Golden Temple will crush that particular memory.

Incredible place, sincere respect to the Sikhs.

[More Amritsar pics here.]

Made-up Indian joke #3

Q: Where's the best place to vomit up potato curry?
A: Aloo.

India part 17: Delhi

I do like my doors.

It was cold in Delhi, which was a bit of a shock for me because I had one pair of socks, no trainers and no coat. Keen to avoid the hotels of Paharganj, which we both remembered as awful and overpriced, we instead stayed at Ringo's Guest House near Connaught Place, which was awful and overpriced. On one hand, our room didn't have any beetles, but it did have holes in the wall, what looked like blood on Sarah's bedsheet, a deeply weird poster of a Thai boy wishing us happy birthday, and a dirty bathroom floor. We asked to have it cleaned, and the man who obliged also kindly dragged the wet, dirty rag across the floor of the room on his way out, smiling at us as he did it, and I'm sure genuinely thinking he was doing us a favour.

Going to visit our friends Eleanor and Charlie at their hotel possibly didn't help matters: they were staying at Claridges. Still, we had beer and fun on two consecutive nights, even if illness from both teams prevented us staying out until the clock struck 2011. Connaught Place was not exactly the party place to be, in fact it was completely empty save for the hundreds of cold, bored policemen hanging about, apparently expecting millions of people to turn up and overthrow the government, as often happens these days.

I don't remember much about how we spent the first day of the new year, but we did pay a visit to the Sikh temple, Bangla Sahib.

Oh, and apparently we also went to the grotty but charming India Coffee House. Says my diary:

I just had a plate of chips. Twelve, to be precise.

And that's it. You ain't shit, Pepys. The next day, though, we went to Humayan's Tomb, where I saw lots of people clearly wondering: "Are you Humayan, or are you dancer?"

Splendid stuff. On the way there - we walked - we were forced to cross a very busy road. There was a man standing next to it doing absolutely nothing and holding a "Delhi traffic safety week" sign. We asked him if he could help us cross, or if there was a subway or bridge or something. He muttered just one word: "Tip?" So we ran across seven lanes of traffic as he watched. What an absolute benchod. Please look at this picture of Paharganj while I fume inwardly for a bit.

Made-up Indian joke #2

"Waiter, waiter, why has this sweet bread put me in a daze?"
"You must be having kulcha shock, sir."


DO YOU SEE.

Signs I have seen #192

"The food was delicious, but the presentation was poor."