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Published: April 5th 2005
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Left Orcha. Took rickshaw to Jhansi, and from thence to Agra. However the train got as far a Gwalior then ground to a halt. For hours. I ran out of water early on and hadn't brought any more with me. I started to fantisise about water. I tried really hard not to think of fountains, streams and taps gushing with cold, clear, plentiful water or of being in a cold shower with water streaming over my face, into my mouth.
I watched our fellow travellers with their bottles of water. I tried not to stare as they poured water down their throats. I fought the urge to ask for some, thinking of infection. It was like a bad song that goes round and round in your head. Cyclical thoughts of water.
We had two friendly travelling companions - they were friends from the South of India going to visit someone in Delhi. One of them very proudly recounted his travels to Libya and elsewhere back in the days when he'd been a mechanic of some sort. He even carried his plane ticket to Tripoli on him - from 21 years ago. He kept all sorts of paperwork on him - old passports, photographs, and other miscellania. I tried to imagine what it must be like for a plane ticket to be so precious to you, that what it represented be so momentous, that you'de keep it for over 20 years and carry it on you at all times.
After a while some creepy bloke sat down opposite R and started talking to her, he then came over to me - I couldn't really understand what he was saying - sounded like "I'm Colby" which was followed by a greasy grin. I didn't understand much of what he was saying but I recognised the tone and look allright so his ingratiating grin was responded to with an icy sneer. R translated "I am call-boy"!! Obviously he got a full dose of the Dominique death-stare (this is equal in power to the lesser-known 'care-bear death stare' - they nicked it from me by the way!) which bizarrely appeared to make no impact.
Luckily for me (and for him, come to think of it) he preferred the more tolerant Richeldis over me so she then was the unwilling recipient of a protracted torrent of slime then went on for some time. I could see her grinning uncompfortably as she said "I'm married". I switched off and tried not to think of water. The odd, impassioned sentence floated through my conciousness every now and again
"no money, no money - it's ok, no money, i do for free".
"It must be your lucky day Richeldis!"
She came and sat by me and recounted the following while he sat and grinned in the corner.
ACtually I have to describe him first. I guess he was about 35, with pock-marked face and bad teeth, kind of dirty and smelly looking, with greasy hair. Just generally foul. Of course he had the obligitory moustache which is pretty much a turn-off at the best of times.
I couldn't help but suspect that what we saw when we looked at him, and what he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror were two violently different images. He clearly thought he was rather a dude.
Anyway, apparantly after annoucing he was a call-boy and being told she was married he asked where her husband was. R replied 'mumbai'. to which he
"it's ok I give you good service"
"no"
"but in UK free love, no?"
"no"
"NO!" - in shocked and dismayed voice apparantly
"in America?"
"no"
"NO free love in America??!!" more shock and dismay
At this he repeated his offer of free service. After which he turned to a new tactic, clearly guaranteed to work...
"Pleeeeeeaaaase"
"PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE"
All the above when on for much longer that it takes you to read it as much of it was repeated. There was a great deal more wheedling and pleading.
Anyway. After one of the stops (we seemed to be moving a couple of metres every now and again before stopping in the middle of nowhere). He seemed to bugger off so thought that was that.
Anyway I was reading my book some time later and I happened to glance up at a movement. There he was, in the next carriage, looking directly at us and unfortanately I made I contact, received one of his greasy-grin specials before I realised what he was doing. EEEeeeuuughyh
If I'd had any fluid in me I would've thown up then and there.
You couldn't make it up, could you? unbelievable.
By the time the train pulled in to Agra it was too late. We didn't have enough time to visit the Taj Mahal and make it back in time for the 6:45 train to Delhi so had to make the sad decision to go straight on to Delhi.
Will have to come back and do it another time - just another excuse to come back to India!
Have to say, in general have found Indians to be respectful. Grease-ball was an exception.
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