It seems such a long time ago that we left Delhi, but I think its effect stayed with us. As we gradually moved west from Jaipur to Jodhpur and then Jaisalmer and Udaipur, of course we saw that these cities were different, but I think the greatest difference was within us.
Our train arrived in Jaipur late at night; I’m never sure if that is a good or bad thing. However, we were immediately approached with the offer of a Tuk-Tuk at an uncommonly fair price and were at our hotel fairly quickly. It was a Haveli, ‘heritage’ of course, with rooms on three floors arranged on balconies around the now covered central courtyard. As we approached check-in another guest, perhaps collecting his key, welcomed us to ‘a little piece of paradise in the concrete jungle’. We were too tired to think much on it, but at least it sounded like the hotel hadn’t been a bad choice. Next day I pondered that greeting: the smog we’d met in Delhi was still with us and we certainly still hadn’t escaped the crowds. Concrete Jungle? A bit harsh, but not too far from the mark.
Like Delhi, Jaipur is plagued by helpful people who ask you were you are going, but better know where you should be going; the Tuk-Tuk drivers every bit as persistent and perhaps even more plentiful. There was also the new hazard of the Tuk-Tuk driver and friend. Most drivers just ply the roads or hang out at particular spots looking for fares. They usually only approach you in their Tuk-Tuk. At least when a Tuk-Tuk approaches you on behalf of it’s driver you fairly well know what you’ve got, even if you didn’t particularly want it. However, this new intermediary isn’t really there to offer you the transport you need, rather, with the lure of the well known tourist attractions he knows most want to see, he sees it as his duty to introduce you to the other experiences you aren’t yet aware you need. In this duo the Tuk-Tuk driver is now a faceless operator bent to the needs of both you and your new self-appointed guide. We have learned to spot and studiously avoid this arrangement now, but these guys are smooth and it’s easy to get caught on this merry-go-round. Perhaps that explains the good price we got to our hotel that first night.
For these guys the places you really need to see are the various Emporia selling anything from brass monkeys to magic carpets. As always: “No need to buy - just look.” No matter how hard-nosed you think you are, you give in at least once. It’s then you find that right enough there is no obligation to buy, but since we’re not buyers we are going to find that we have let a lot of people down, including our Tuk-Tuk operator. Stick with just letting him down in future and leave the carpet sellers to deal with real buyers we tell ourselves. Even better, just avoid that type of operation altogether.
Once we were even sitting with a 42 carat emerald in one hand and a slightly smaller topaz in the other. This guy isn’t even in the jewellery trade anymore. The jewellery shop we’ve passed through to get to his tiny room at the back he’s at pains to let us know is now his family’s business, he himself has nothing to do with it.
We’d been ‘sold’ this Indian as a guru: ‘He was in the Marigold Hotel film’. We vaguely remember there may indeed have been such a character, but can’t quite remember who it was that played him. Anyway, this ‘guru’ really does know all about the problems you’ve had in your life, bang-on or pretty close every time, and since his move into ‘crystal therapy’ he now knows that these are the particular stones, from this glass-topped cabinet between you and him, that will heal your wounds and the lesions you’ve inflicted on that significant other. For a ‘healer’, he really can make you feel uneasy, just hopefully not uneasy enough to buy those gems.
Don’t ask how we got there, but don’t worry we left him with the glass. A quick google: That was not Dev Patel we’d just been with. As for all the stuff he knew about your past: I’m sure you wouldn’t need to read too many self-help or popular psychology books to come up with at least four emotional hang-ups with a strike rate of at least ninety-five percent. And the real trick was the twist with the one where you think: “Nope can’t remember that.” Really! You don’t remember that. Maybe that’s what’s caused the deepest scars and maybe you need to go away and find out about that so that the healing can begin. One stone each for you and the victim.
That was in Jodhpur and now sitting at the lakeside in Udaipur, it all seems like an age ago and even in another country. The India we now experienced was the same India, it was just a different us that was now taking it all in. It was also in Jodhpur that we decided that we don’t have to see everything. Instead of rushing around taking in the tourist sites, it would be good to just sit back and enjoy the place. As we moved to new places, like Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and finally, in Rajasthan, Udaipur, each seemed a lot more laid back. There is still a constant stream of people wanting to know ‘what is your name’, ‘where are you leeving’, ‘can I take one selfie’. However, now it seemed mostly an innocent curiosity.
We were of course changing, but it would be a great injustice not to see that the people we met, especially in Jaisalmer and Udaipur, were very different because these cities are very different. I’m not sure if I could put those differences into words. Perhaps I should do nothing more than try to describe them.
