After arriving in New Delhi by train from Amritsar, I walked out of the train station, crossed the street, entered the Main Bazaar Road in Pahar Ganj and immediately hated it.

There were tourists everywhere, guesthouses, hotels, and those dreadful traveller restaurants where they serve some Westernized version of Indian food and some Indianized version of Western food, so in both cases nothing to write home about.
Of course it was the prospect of cheap lodging which brought me to this area of Delhi, since the Connaught area had the reputation of being more upmarket and expensive, Pahar Ganj was the place to go, I simply was not prepared for this culture shock of touristyness after untouristy Pakistan.

While Amritsar had still lived up to my expectations, me being the only white guy in the Golden Temple complex for example, Delhi started off as an utter disappointment.
So it was in this spirit of sulking, tantrum or however I could describe my childish mindset, that I couldn´t be bothered to tell off a guy who suddenly approached me, offering to help me find a cheap hotel. Normally I would have told him to go to hell, with touts or any other people pestering me I had found out that this method of ultimate rudeness usually worked pretty well, but now I thought, whatever, and accepted his "help".
After we had looked at a few small hotels and guesthouses, which were all too expensive for my taste, I was actually starting to enjoy this game of trying to wear out a tout by not accepting any accommodation offered, thereby denying him his commission, the guy switched to another game and shyly offered me a room in his house.

“It´s a simple room, no luxury, but it´s my family´s house, if you want we can have a look.“

I don´t remember the price he quoted any more, but I guess it was reasonable, otherwise I would not have taken him up on his offer.
While there were warnings in Lonely Planet about not accepting food or drink in the shops around the Connaught area to avoid being drugged, they didn´t write anything about not following a complete stranger away from the Main Road, so no worries. 😉

He led me away from the Main Bazaar area, down some narrow alleys, where women looked up from their laundry, surprised to suddenly see a white face in this neighborhood, and the deeper we ventured into the maze of small alleys, pedestrians-only size, the better my mood got, this was the real India, which I had seen in Amritsar before, again, no tourist ghetto.
Little did I know then what massive adventures would arise from my sudden whim of not dismissing this tout right away, but playing his hotel search game first and then following him back home.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

So in his house I got a nice little room at the top floor with a brilliant terrace, the roof basically. The family was originally from Kashmir, but I learned that only after some time at their home. Kashmiris have a bit of a reputation in India, as shrewd businessmen in the positive and as scammers and swindlers in the negative sense.
There is even a drastic saying about this topic in India

“If you meet a cobra and a Kashmiri, kill the Kashmiri first.“

Since the shit had hit the fan in Kashmir, Kashmiri Mujahideen fighting against the Indian army, Kashmir had experienced a serious decline in tourist numbers, thereby forcing the Kashmiris to swarm all over India in search of business opportunities, probably contributing to this attitude of the rest of India toward them.

But those guys in Delhi were really nice, the guy who invited me was about my age and actually quite a cool guy.
In their home there was another tourist, an American guy, staying, who kept raving about the family´s house boat on Dal Lake in Srinagar, Kashmir, were he had been staying for weeks already, he had just come down to Delhi for some business and was about to go back to Kashmir soon.

After all his raving, and since I liked the family, I decided to accompany him back to Kashmir.
In my book, Kashmir did not appear at all, since there was this kind of a low-intensity war going on at that time I was not too interested to go there anyway.
My first and foremost plan for India had been to follow my professor´s recommendation, go to Mussoorie and enroll in one of India´s best language school there and continue my Hindi studies, especially after seeing in Pakistan how the little Hindi I spoke, which was taken for Urdu by the Pakistanis because of the similarities between the two languages, had made a big difference already.
While English is the key to the mind, speaking the local language is the key to the heart of the people.

But since I had already learned in Pakistan to trust my instincts and change plans frequently according to opportunities offered by local people, I had no problem with throwing all my plans overboard in a heartbeat.
The main reason I had come to Delhi was to get some mail from the poste restante counter (google that if you kids from the age of email don´t know what that is) at the GPO, and once that mission was accomplished I was free to go anywhere.
So after a few days, the American and me went to Srinagar, Kashmir´s capital, to stay on the family´s houseboat on Dal Lake.