WildyWeb: two Scousers in India

Sunrise over the Red Fort

Delhi comes alive

At the customs

It's a waiting game

Through the city at twilight

Snarl, snarl

A final jockey into position

And that's what it will look like

Just another day in Delhi

Do I spend all my time up and down to Delhi? Well, not really, but there was another trip last week. Again I'm cheating a bit - this is the report I sent to the Woodstock Class of '57 who have donated and paid for the transport of what we are calling the Peace Sculpture. This is a piece made by former student Jim Havens, a noted US sculptor, and its installation will be the centrepiece of our Arts Festival next June.

The Peace Sculpture comes to Woodstock

It's coming.. no it isn't.. yes it is.. it's in Mumbai, it will be coming tomorrow.. no, it will be the next day.. From Friday 7th November I was on stand-by, bag packed and ready to go. Two Shatabdi tickets were booked and cancelled. Finally, on Wednesday we got the confirmation - the crate arrived from Mumbai today. Luckily a berth was available on the Mussoorie Express overnight, so down I went to Dehra Dun for the 9.15 p.m. departure.

Dawn was breaking as we pulled in to Delhi. I'd been told that it wasn't worth arriving at the airport customs before midday, as the agents were doing all that could be done, so there was time for a leisurely stroll from Old Delhi station around Chandni Chowk, past the Red Fort, past the Kashmiri Gate (I think) and.. well, actually by then I was a bit footsore, so it seemed like a good idea to call an autorickshaw for the last mile or so to Connaught Place and Nirula's Pot Pourri restaurant. Yes, I know all the tourists go there, but you can get a nice breakfast and plenty of coffee while you wait for things to open.

I had a couple of stops to make (including confirming the tickets for our first trip back to the UK after 18 months at Woodstock), so I arrived in good time at the home of the Delhi staff member who was going to accompany me to the airport. Time for tea and mithai (sweets) while we stayed in touch with the agents by cell phone to check progress. Finally we set off for the airport and met up at the New Customs House, where the papers were working their way through the bureaucracy for import tax and handling charges assessment. The total number churned out at the end was 10,000 rupees - around the $200 we had expected.

Next to the imports warehouse for the next stage. I'm so glad that the agent was there to run around with the paperwork!

Stage 3 (for us - however many he'd been through!) was the examination hall. I was really keen to get my first glimpse of the crating and the sculpture. I had in mind a great photo as the packaging was opened for inspection and the statue breathed the air of India.. but no cameras allowed. Sorry. We sat and waited our turn and eventually the crate appeared on the front of a fork lift truck (why do you need something that big just to lift a fork? I've heard of American-sized steaks, but.. oh well).

Another wait and the men with the screwdrivers and crowbars appeared. Having been well primed by Jerry, I was able to persuade them to turn the crate the right way up and open it from the intended side. Even then it was some job. I suspect the screws were inserted in the US with a power driver, and here they were being taken out with a six-inch screwdriver (the nails were almost as long!). So there it was at last, with an honour guard of around six ladybugs who looked totally bemused at the change of environment. "Hey, Lily, when we crawled into this big box weren't we surrounded by, you know, fields and things?".

So we're all ready to load the truck in order to get an early start next day. Except the Customs House computer system has broken down and we can't get clearance until tomorrow. So, having done all we can for today we head off, and I spend the night with friends in Delhi. Next morning.. it's just the waiting game. Again the tension mounts: if we can't get away before 4.00 p.m., we won't get through Delhi before the rush-hour ban on truck movements and we'll be waiting until 8.00 p.m. Come on, I want to go home!

The timing was tight, but we did it. The 4.00 to 5.00 period saw us racing round the ring road, exercising great self-control when we were stuck in traffic snarls (oh, of course, that's why they call them "snarls" - it's the expression on the drivers' faces).

So nothing more remained, really, except a long drive up to Mussoorie, stopping at State boundaries for road taxes and clearance and at police checks to explain that it wasn't a weapon of mass destruction, more a symbol of peace instruction. The photo of the sculpture was more than useful, and, of course, the nearer we came to Mussoorie, the more the magic words "Woodstock School" gave us credibility and eased our passage. Even so, it was a long. weary journey. We left the airport at 4.00 p.m. and arrived at the school gate at 3.30 a.m.

Next morning was unloading, and that was far easier than we might have feared. A host of school employees, a couple of trolleys and the crate was safely ensconced in the shelter of the jeep park where it will remain, under cover and secure, until next May when it is moved to its permanent site, about 50 vertical feet from where it now sits.

And me? I went back to bed - what did you expect! So, thanks to the class of '57. We hope some of you at least can come and be there at the unveling next June.