Are You Experienced?

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ he chuckled. ‘They make a

lot

of money. Some soft-hearted soul who’s just stepped off the plane will casually give them fifty rupees because they know sod all about the country. That’s what one of those little children’s fathers will earn in a week’s honest labour. It’s a terrible thing. Tourists who act like that completely screw up the local economy. And the kids are disgustingly persistent. It really shouldn’t be allowed.’

This guy was a fascist. A hippie fascist.

‘But you can’t treat people like that,’ I said.

Jeremy laughed again. ‘It’s the only way to survive. If you got upset by every beggar, you’d end up killing yourself. You have to lose your Western preconceptions about materialist wealth and deal with it in the same way as the Indians.’

‘And how

do

Indians deal with it?’

‘They ignore it.’

Jeremy was enjoying this. He thought it made him sound clever.

‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘within a fortnight, you won’t even notice the beggars any more.’

‘How can you fail to notice someone when they’re pulling on your sleeve and won’t let go of you?’

‘You just do. You get a look on your face – an impervious look which the beggars can spot, and they stop bothering you because they can tell that you’ve stopped noticing them and won’t give them any money.’

‘Why did that girl go after you, then?’

‘She wasn’t after me, she was after you two. I just did you a favour by getting rid of her. Besides, Delhi’s different. They’re more organized.’

‘And you reckon,’ said Liz, ‘that within a fortnight they’ll stop bothering us?’

‘I guarantee it. They’ll stop bothering you just as soon as you stop being scared of them.’

‘We just have to toughen ourselves up a bit,’ said Liz.

‘Exactly. We’re all far too pampered in the West. It’s one of the best things about coming to India – you have to face up to horrible things and develop an immunity to them.’

‘Who says immunity’s a good thing?’ I said.

‘Look – if you don’t develop it, you’ll never be happy here,’ said Jeremy with a sigh, suddenly bored with the conversation. ‘It’s as simple as that.’

‘You’re right,’ said Liz. ‘You’re absolutely right.’

I saw the worry-line begin to move from her forehead, as she set her face into a new expression. Her chin jutted forward a fraction, and her eyes narrowed.

Liz had set about toughening herself up.

Here we go, I thought. As if she wasn’t bossy enough already.

In the restaurant, only one part of the menu looked appetizing.

‘Are you really serious about the meat thing? You’re not just trying to convert me or something?’

‘I’m not talking about it any more. Eat whatever you want, and enjoy it. I don’t give a shit,’ said Jeremy.

‘I can’t believe I’ve come all the way to India, and I can’t even have a curry.’

‘Of course you can have a curry,’ said Liz. ‘Just eat a vegetarian one.’

‘That’s not a bloody curry. That’s a side dish.’

They ignored me.

‘How did you find this place?’ said Liz.

‘Oh – I’ve been here lots of times. Just dug it out, I suppose. It’s not in the book or anything.’

‘Which book?’ she said.

‘The book. The Book. There’s only one worth having.’

‘We’ve got the Lonely Planet – is that the right one?’ Her face was overcome with anxiety.

‘It’s not the right one.’ He paused for effect. ‘It’s the only one.’

Liz sighed with relief.

‘If it’s not in The Book, how come there are so many Westerners here?’ I said.

‘Word of mouth.’

‘And how come the whole menu’s translated into English?’

Liz snapped. ‘When are you going to stop sulking?’

‘I’m not sulking.’

‘If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have come.’

‘I

do

like it. I just need to get used to everything.’

‘Well, stop whining all the time and make an effort.’

‘I’m not whining.’

‘You are whining. And you’re being very hostile to Jeremy – I mean, to J.’

‘No I’m not.’

‘Yes you are.’

‘J – am I being hostile towards you?’

‘I think maybe you just feel a little threatened. It’s perfectly natural.’

‘Threatened? By

you

? Nauseated, maybe. Threatened –I’m afraid not.’

‘Dave. Stop it. I’m not amused,’ said Liz.

‘What are you – my teacher or something?’

‘Are you going to behave?’

‘Liz – don’t be…’

‘Are you?’

‘Jesus. OK, OK. I’m sorry. I’ll

behave.’

Liz gave me a hard stare, then clicked her fingers at the waiter.

‘Waiter! We’re ready to order.’

‘No we’re not!’

She glared at me.

‘Was that a whine? Are you classing that as a whine?’

She glared harder.

‘Fine. Sorry I spoke. I suppose I’ll just have one of whatever you’re having.’

‘Very imaginative,’ she said, and maliciously ordered something made of lentils.

It was a big moment taking my first mouthful of Indian food. I started with a few grains of rice. That seemed O K. It tasted of rice. I then moved on to the lentil dish, chewing slowly at first to see if anything strange was going to happen. It tasted hotter than most curries I had eaten, but went down easily enough and didn’t seem to provoke any instant adverse reaction.

Due to my anxious state I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I forced down most of my portion in the hope that it would help me keep my spirits up. For desert, we each had a malaria tablet.

*

On the way back from the restaurant, just before we arrived at the hotel, we were accosted by the same beggar. Having already failed with Jeremy and me, this time she targeted Liz.

The newly toughened Liz wasted no time, and after one tiny sleeve-tug, she spun round, grabbed the kid by the shoulder and said, ‘NO–NO MONEY. GO HOME,’ shaking her violently for emphasis. The girl, displaying considerably more skill than me at recognizing a psycho when she saw one, backed off immediately.

Liz marched on to the hotel, victory stamped on her jawline. I could read what was going on in her head.

Dave can’t handle this

, she was thinking.

He’s struggling. But

me – I’m doing just fine. I can cope

.

For an instant, I felt the burnt-rubber aftertaste of a malaria tablet in the back of my throat. This whole thing just wasn’t going to work.