Our Delhi accommodation so far was a hotel that reminded us of a brothel and a hostel that was basically a doss house – Ma Calaco’s. But she kept a motherly eye on us – providing us with old sleeping bags (I don’t like to think how often they’d been used and by whom) and turfing out two blokes to another room so we could have charpoys to sleep on.
It may have been basic but you can always tell a high-class establishment by the graffiti On the toilet walls:
GOD IS DEAD (VOLTAIRE)
VOLTAIRE IS DEAD (GOD)