Delhi organizers are optimistic

New Delhi, 15 Sept 2010: Like much of Delhi through Australian eyes, it was odd. Why conduct a media tour of the jewel of the Delhi Commonwealth Games - the main stadium - in the fading light of dusk? Particularly when the predictable monsoon rains were hammering down amid thunder and lightning. If nothing else, organisers of the Delhi Commonwealth Games are doing things their way. About 150 newsmen gathered at the prearranged time for the tour of the Jawahar Lal Nehru Stadium. Like many timeframes in Delhi, the agreed time wasn't actually the time at all - best call it nominal. After gathering, the group were instructed to wait in a room for another hour. The room was in the Delhi organising committee headquarters, among the tallest buildings in the sprawling city and the source of much pride in the Indian capital. Rifle-carrying troops guard the central city nine-floor building, not batting an eyelid as muscular monkeys cruise past and, like humans, take their chances crossing chaotic roads. Inside, as media waited, a mouse scampered through legs - like their army, the locals were oblivious, perhaps distracted by the offering of free tea. 

Finally summoned outside, the media contingent waded through puddles, bypassing police who simply take off their shoes and socks, roll their trousers up to their knees, and man their posts barefoot. Five crammed buses headed for the main stadium through rush-hour traffic, which offers proof of India's optimism - why else are there "Give Way" and "Horn Prohibited" signs? Travelling through traffic lights not blinking but staring blankly because they were turned off, past petrol stations selling fuel by the kilo, barely missing public buses resembling crumpled tins with human sardines - suddenly, the stadium appeared. 

Well, sort of. The top of the stadium grandstands were visible but in Delhi traffic, visible and obtainable, are different beasts. After travelling a centimetre a minute for quarter of an hour, Indian media became animated: the bus had taken a wrong turn, they said. "He doesn't know where to go," a reporter said. "What can you expect from the Commonwealth Games," replied another. So the driver took the only appropriate course of action: a sudden veer on to the wrong side of the road, a just as drastic right turn drawing a chorus of honks from aggrieved fellow motorists. And there we were - late, having missed the start of the tour, but there nonetheless. We pulled into the stadium confines, where curious workers peered from under their plastic tent homes - one man washed a spoon in a muddy pool of rain water, admired his work, then resumed eating. Walked through the artificial lawn bowling greens - Delhi will be the first Commonwealth Games contested by bowlers on synthetic turf - and into the stadium proper as a giant inflatable Raj hung from the roof. The Raj, as eye-catchingly impressive as the stadium at first glance, appeared spick and span. 

A second, closer, glance revealed what perhaps the giant Raj was meant to hide. Tradesmen were still at work; buckets of paint with brushes dangling expectantly in grandstands; uncovered electrical cords hanging here, there and everywhere; scaffolding waiting for use; windows partly smeared with a grubby sealant. On the arena, the track was more like a pool thanks to the rain; the infield covered like a gigantic cricket pitch in the wet. But like their traffic signs, they're optimistic, this Delhi organising committee. "We are very well organised ... and we will, God willing, stage a good Games," the committee's vice-chairman Randhir Singh said at the stadium. "Fortunately, we managed to complete all the work that had to be done before the rains - and it is only the furnishing things that have to happen." - AAP
Sourcs: NZHerald