Abandoning the truck (unfortunately parked such that the taxis could get passed), I took the bike off the roof. A cycle along the path which clung to the side of the Ganges gorge was spectacularly peaceful. Not a taxi horn to be heard.

While on the subject of the bike, those curious to know the latest score in the "Bike On The Roof" vs "Low Growing Passing Vegetation" game, Delhi saw the trees catching up slightly with the situation now at 4-2 to the bike. Following injury, the latter made a substitution of a structural steel rim for the rear wheel, following a fatal blow which added a third dimension its circumference. (In plain speak, the bike was ripped off the roof, and left dangling over the edge of the roof rack.)

Following the Ganges outing, it was back to Delhi, the toilet capital of the world. One little promoted asset to Delhi is that you can relieve yourself of bodily waste fluids at anytime, anywhere. Be it an official toilet or not, you just face a wall, fence or tree, and leave your watery mark. I have yet to participate in this pastime: when I've permanently wired my horn to the 12-volt terminal of my battery, then I think it'll be time.

Two "official" relieving posts. The left is at Nehru park (boldly signboarded as "Sulabh Toilet Complex"), on the edge of the part of town housing all the foreign embassies. The one to the right is next to downtown New Delhi Railway Station.