Friends Galore

Apparently Rajasthan, a province in NW India, is India's poorest and least developed. A few years ago the monsoon rains failed here which ruined many crops and caused many of the region's farmers to lose their livlihoods. The Indian government responded with a large financial package to try and get the water table back up, but this was largely messed up by corrupt officialdom and the companies who were supposed to be transporting the water here. Eventually the farmers had to pay exorbitant fees to get the water they needed. Not only that, but since the state started to dish out water and aid in times of need, the locals have not retained their traditional frugality with their resources. So a lot of them come to the cities looking for work. One of the cities, Jaipur - the provincial capital, is the one I am currently staying in.



It is a world apart from Delhi but only about 160 km away. We decided to take a jeep here after the train times that were available were crummy. The jeep was about an hour late picking us up (getting up at 0600 for an 0730 jeep really put me in a good mood as you can imagine) and the journey uncomfortable, though we did get a drink stop.



We then stopped outside of Jaipur at an old fort where there we other cars and drivers waiting. I was not really surprised that our driver had chosen to abandon us to the vultures, but as it turned out these cars were for the final leg of the journey and did not cost us an extra penny. Naturally I did not believe this offer at first, assuming that I was about to get stiffed for some unreasonable fee. But as I arrived at the destination intact (well, almost, we were run over by a bus at a junction and our car ended up with a very crumpled driver's side wing) I realised that they were telling the truth. So far so good.



The hotel we chose was more expensive than what we were used to but the level of comfort was many-fold better. We had paint on the walls, a comfortable bed, and a clean sit-down toilet! This last feature was especially welcome as I was, and still am as I type this, in the throws of a nasty bout of the trots. I can't seem to knock it on the head so now when I go out I need to ensure that I am close to facilities. They never tell you in the guide books how nasty having the trots is when all you have to use is a squat toilet. Put it this way: pack wellies.



As I was ill and tired from the journey simply lying back until the weather had cooled off was the order of the day, and this is what I did. Later I decided to take a walk into town.



No sooner had Matt and I walked 10 paces down the road we were approached by a rickshaw driver touting for business. Fair enough, though we did want to walk just to see the place and "absorb the atmosphere", for what that was worth. He then wanted to stop and talk (alarm bells ringing) for a bit and that's what we did. We spoke and he said that you should be careful about simply talking to strangers and that they will try to rip you off, etc, etc. Seemed contradictory that he was a stranger talking to me, though. WE managed to get away from him politely enough and walked another 20 paces when a younger man said hello/asked where I was from. With the crushing sense of inevitability I told him I was from Lithuania. He then told me not to trust that rickshaw driver who had just talked the hind legs off us. He said he was a "bad man" who would often take tourists to "his shop", etc, bloody-etc. "Nice," I replied and thanked him for his advice. I think he was about to go for his sting when I realised that Matt had walked on (coward) but it gave me excellent opportunity to follow. I said my goodbyes and left.



It was after this that we adopted a sensible strategy of simply ignoring everyone, which meant that we got to the restaurant and had dinner in relative quiet.



That night we got a rickshaw back to the hotel as our exploration earlier had established that the walk into town was crap. Our rickshaw driver this time was one Mustapha and he was unusually chatty. He told us of many scams that tourists may fall prey to and got out a battered notebook full of endorsements from grateful foreigners. I liked him and the way he spoke and not once did he try to get us into anything. From the endorsements, which seem genuine, I gathered that he can take us about the place to see the sights that are worth seeing all day for a small fee. He also acts as guide. As he gained my trust and his English was good when he dropped us off I said that we'd like to take a trip with him and he could show us a good time, as it were. We named the time and place (tomorrow morning at our hotel as I type this) and he would be there. He said no problem. We have not negotiated a price yet but if he is good and he will manage to keep the flies off us for at least a day I don't mind giving him perhaps more than what the service is "worth". I'll let you know how we get on.



This morning I was feeling much better and decided to take a rickshaw down the town. We walked out of the hotel and, lo and behold, about 5 rickshaw drivers were waiting, salivating, baying for my blood. One approached me right away and asked me. Experience tells me that you have to fire a destination at them, they quote a price, if you like it, take it. This process should take no more than 2 seconds. If you dither they feed off each-other's energy and bump the price up to insane levels. I was about to step into his rickshaw when the driver who collared us on our first night called over! The bastard was in that crowd too, though I had not seen him. He started to give all the soft soap about how he was waiting for us (bollocks actually, they all wait there for a fare because it's a hotel) etc, etc, etc. I told him I had no intention of breaking the deal I had struck with the driver and that I'd probably use him later.



We got to the town. It was about 30 degrees at this point and we started walking along to orientate ourselves. Then more "friendly" people started t offer their services. One guy said hello, but we ignored him as is our policy, and he started to follow me. He was very well dressed but he asked why we were so rude to ignore him "What makes you think you're so special that I cannot simply choose to ignore you, buddy?" I thought, though naturally I capitulated as if I was being told off by a teacher at school and started to talk. He gave me his story about how his father was a doctor, he works in the import/export business (again, alarm bells), etc, etc. I was fatigued now and was willing to answer his questions. He wanted to know about London so I gave him the most boring description of a journey from Hounslow to Covent Garden I could muster. Matt then told him we were just walking through to get to the local park/gardens. We were not being rude in ignoring him, it was that we were frankly not interested in talking to anyone really and just wanted to get from A to B. Nice work. He met us later on in the gardens.



He actually joined us there with another couple of guys; a really crap beggar who just kept asking the same word in Hindi that I did not understand, and a young man with curtains-hair who was apparently a musician who also worked as a shadow puppeteer. His story was again plausible, though they always are. Eventually we managed to escape both the puppeteer and the well-dressed man and just get to the Internet cafe where I am now.



I honestly do not know what we white men must seem like to the native Indians. To me, they are just fellows trying to scratch a living, especially when you consider the conditions of this state. But equally I have a right to paranoid as there are scammers and plenty of friendly people who will cheat, or even threaten, you out of money. I liked Mustapha's simple edict that "We work hard for our income here just as you have worked hard for your income to come to India. I want you to remember India as a good place, nothing more." Well, it's not Benjamin Franklin, but I thought it made sense. I will continue to blank most people who at a glance I think are going to stiff me, though you have to give a little bit otherwise you'll never get anywhere.



I have high hopes for Mustapha, we'll just have to see how that goes.

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