P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C hotel, that is, if you can call it a hotel, in the first place. Tucked away in a seedy corner behind a row of truckers' equipment shops and garages, this is a place that noone - ladies especially - should step out of, unaccompanied, after sundown. My entire room had one CFL lamp. Yes. One. Bathroom was a bad joke, and I had to yell out to the hotel-boys five times for a bucket of garam paani on a chilly winter morning. Bedsheets looked like they hadn't seen detergent since Nadir Shah invaded India. Wallpapers were peeling off wherever you looked. No elevator, which means you have to lug your heavy rucksacks and strolleys up three-four storeys to get to your room. Narrow stairs, and one flight of stairs was dripping human excreta the afternoon I left - the adjoining room and bathroom were being cleaned. And the flushes in most of the loos don't work. Enter this hotel at your own risk!!