Money (That's What I Want)

Wednesday 12 November 2008
Agra – Jaipur

The second of three pieces of karmic retribution to hit Raj comes when he realises that he's lost his mobile. Such is life. I didn't sleep too well the previous evening due to a combination of itchy sheets, being bitten by mites, being woken up at seven by hotel staff hassling Raj (it seems there are no normal conversations in Hindi, everything is a heated argument) and needing to go to the loo when it didn't flush and I didn't want to leave it literally looking like crap (I gave up on the last one and did it anyway).

So I slept through most of the car journey. I woke up to see Fatehpur Sikri, another Moghul complex including a mosque, a mausoleum, a working Sufi shrine as well as a school amongst other things. I was ripped off for the third time in 24 hours by succumbing to another “official government guide” who overcharged me for his services and tried to have me buy stuff from various people. I gave in at the first instance, to buy offerings to lay on the tomb in the mausoleum. It gave you three wishes that only come true if you keep them a secret. I was thinking of making one of them a wish to not be ripped off again this trip, but I chose much nobler and far reaching wishes instead (which are, of course, secrets).

After that my patience was shot with touts and anyone who came near me was quite justifiably given short shrift, no matter how expert the handicraft of the goods they were offering. It was only when I returned to the car and asked Raj how much I should be paying these guides, when I realised that I was overcharged by a factor of at least ten.

I then slept a bit more until about 70km from Jaipur when Raj's next piece of karmic retribution occurred. The traffic systems here are much like other countries such as Egypt or Vietnam, in that they are pretty much left to their own devices which means they are massively chaotic. For the greater part of time, this actually works quite well. Apart from the odd traffic jam and the incessant beeping which is just part and parcel of the process, everyone gets where they want to go eventually. Having said that, I did read a report in a paper saying that the number of murders from road rage incidents is on the increase. Perhaps that's not a surprise in a country where the essential mode of communication between strangers is shouting.

So anyway we're on this motorway, and a motorcyclist pulls out from the central reservation on our right. He's moving slowly and we were moving fast, but as he was going so slow he had ample opportunity to stop, a luxury that we didn't have. Given that he was pulling out onto a motorway I presume he was looking at us and would have been able to judge whether he should keep going or not. I say presume, as I was only focussing on his front wheel and whether we were going to hit him or not.

In a few seconds from first seeing the motorcyclist, he had hit us on our side. There was a bit of a clanking sound and we quickly braked and pulled over. Looking back we could see him on the ground, and some people who happened to be at the road side had gone to where he was. I thought I saw him stand up but I couldn't be sure. To be honest he could have been dead – there was no way of knowing for sure given our distance. But rather than check or exchange insurance details, we kept on driving. As Raj explained later on, these things can often lead to fights, involving the police (which are pretty much corrupt as hell) isn't going to help, so it's not worth it. And the concept of insurance is pretty much a joke.

Later on we stopped the car and had a look at the side where he hit. The nut at the centre of the bike's front wheel had torn a line through the bottom of the rear door. The estimate for the repair was about 10,000 INR, and it didn't matter who was responsible, it would only be Raj who would have to pay for it. He's getting a hefty tip from me.

After that we travel some more and I sleep some more. I really can't have done too well the previous night. Eventually we arrive in Jaipur at 4.30, just in time for lunch. Bizarrely I'm still tired so try to sleep a bit more though with the noise outside I only manage a slight doze.
Soon enough Raj meets up with me again and we hit the beer. He's joined by two fellow drivers and two of his actual brothers (rather than brother-cousins which is the normal definition in India – considering that most families have something like 8 – 14 children, the amount of “brothers” that they have must be huge).

We talk a bit in English but they mostly chat away in Hindi which is fine, I'm happy to see Raj relax after a bad day for him. I can only follow bits of the conversation but it doesn't really matter.

After a couple of beers we head to a restaurant where there is a traditional Indian music band with two traditionally dressed girls dancing. I naturally go up and dig out my best Bollywood dancing moves, and of course the girls love it. After the first dance they shyly look at me and laugh, and invite me up for a couple more dances, so I oblige (after making them wait for a bit of course). I pay for the food, which is the first time I've had to do that so far on this trip, surprisingly.

Strangely at the meal one of Raj's brothers, nicknamed Tiger, warns me about Raj and leaving my phone with him. I check the phone and there haven't been any extra calls or texts, but it's just another example of how this country lacks honesty and trust, and really does itself a disservice.

Afterwards we go to bed and I blog until midnight. Damn this writing takes ages!