a pair of ludicrously expensive imitation Levi’s which crawled so far up my arse they made my eyes water.
When I was all kitted out, he clapped me admiringly on both arms, and told me that I looked like a proper Indian Playboy.
‘Is that good?’
‘Of course it’s good.’
‘Is that what you are?’
‘No, man. I’m the Putney Penile Pile-Driver. But you can’t buy Putney Pile-Driving gear out here, so we’re going to have to settle for Indian Playboy.’
‘I feel a bit of a twat.’
‘What do you mean, you feel a bit of a twat? How did you feel in this crap?’ He pointed to the bag containing my old clothes, which I had refused to throw away.
‘I felt fine.’
‘Well, you looked like a beggar. Where did you buy that shit?’
‘Around. I got most of it in Manali and Dharamsala.’
‘I should have guessed. Is this because you thought that wearing Tibetan clothes would help you look like a local in South India?’
‘No.’
‘Why, then? Why do you people have to wear those disgusting clothes?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve got a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at the bottom of my rucksack, but when I arrived and started wearing them I just felt totally out of place. So I bought the same kind of stuff that all the other travellers were wearing.’
‘You’ve got a pair of jeans at the bottom of your rucksack?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What make?’
‘Levi’s, I think.’
‘You’ve got a pair of Levi’s in the bottom of your rucksack?’
‘Yeah. I haven’t worn them since I arrived, though. No one wears jeans in India.’
‘What are you talking about? Everyone wears jeans in India.’
‘No they don’t.’
‘Yes they do. Why the fuck did you let me buy this imitation shit, when you’ve got the real thing in your bag?’
‘I don’t know. I forgot I had them.’
‘Do you realize how much you could sell a real pair of Levi’s for here?’
‘No.’
‘Lots. They’re gold dust. I can’t believe you carry around a pair of Levi’s on your back and walk the streets in twenty-rupee peasant trousers.’
‘They weren’t twenty rupees. They were fifty rupees.’
‘You paid fifty rupees for
When Ranj smelled my Levi’s he almost choked. He immediately filled my rucksack with every piece of clothing I owned and sent the whole lot down as hotel laundry. I then dressed up in my new evening gear, and we went out on the pull.
The hotel bar was like something out of a James Bond movie, and in honour of the man himself, we each had a dry Martini. Most of the people in the bar were rich Indians, which I had always thought was a contradiction in terms, but there was one corner where all the whiteys were hanging out, and we went over to join them.
Within minutes, I’d dragged Ranj back to the bar for an earful.
‘What the fuck are we doing here, man? They’re all wrinklies.’
‘So?’
‘Just look at them. They’re repulsive.’
‘What d’you expect rich divorcees to look like. Nubile twenty-two-year-old divorcees just don’t exist, you know. You might find the odd widow if you’re incredibly lucky, but divorcees are old.’
‘And that’s what you’re after? Them?’
‘Actually, I have to admit they are a bit ugly.’
‘They’re dogs. And none of them are even divorced, for God’s sake – they’re all couples.’
‘All right, all right. I’m not clairvoyant. I didn’t know who’d be staying here, did I?’
‘The only one I fancy is the blonde one over there.’
‘The blonde one?’
‘Yeah.’
‘In the corner?’
‘Yeah.’
‘With the big guy.’
‘Yeah.’
‘The one who was just going on about what an idyllic spot this was for a honeymoon.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Dream on, mate.’
‘Well who else is there, for God’s sake?’
‘She’s all right.’
Ranj nodded towards an Indian girl standing near the bar.
‘
‘Yeah.’
‘She’s
‘So.’
‘You can’t chat up Indians.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just… they’re… I mean, she’s with her parents.’
‘So?’
‘Her brothers will come and kill you in the middle of the night.’
‘What for?’
‘For… insulting her honour, or something.’
‘Where do you think you are? Pakistan or something? This is a civilized country.’
‘I know.’
‘How do you think the race propagates in this part of the world?’
‘Just… I don’t know. You said yourself that you were going to have an arranged marriage.’
‘So. Now I’m going to arrange myself a one-night stand.’
‘But… do they give? Do they put out?’
‘Who?’
‘Indian girls.’
‘Not for you they wouldn’t. But remember – I’ve got breeding.’
And with that, he smoothed his eyebrows and stalked off.
That night, I was woken up by noises coming from Ranj’s room which resembled the sound of two people both winning the World Cup in the last minute of extra time with a shot from the half-way line. To my great relief, I soon discovered that you can get satellite pornography on Indian TV.
The following morning, he informed me that she’d been a bit young for his taste, but was a reasonable performer anyway. He then politely enquired whether I’d enjoyed my evening’s game of bridge.’
‘Sod off. It wasn’t bridge.’
‘What was it, then?’
