‘Do either of you want to go and eat?’ I said.
‘Why not?’ said Liz, giving me a weak don’t-worry-nothing-happened smile.
‘Where can you get a good Chinese round here?’ I said.
They both frowned at me.
‘Joke,’ I explained.
‘Oh, right,’ said Jeremy. ‘I see.’
‘Where do you recommend?’ said Liz, with a pout.
‘A number of places,’ said Jeremy. ‘I presume you want vegetarian.’
‘Of course.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘You’re not a vegetarian.’
‘I am now,’ said Liz. ‘It’s the best way to stay healthy. Eat what the locals eat. Indigenous food.’
‘Did you tell her that?’ I said.
‘Of course. It’s well known that the meat here is unhealthy. You only have to see the way it sits around covered in flies. Of course, I’ve been a vegetarian since I was five. I never could stomach the stuff, and it took me five years to get up the courage to say so. It’s deeply ingrained in Western culture that the only meal is a meat-based…’
‘Are you saying that the meat here’s not safe?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘You reckon that if I eat it I’ll get sick.’
‘Almost certainly, yes.’
‘I don’t believe this! Are you serious?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘No – you’re joking, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not. It’s common knowledge.’
‘You are. You’re joking.’
‘Look – eat what you want. I couldn’t give two shits. But I won’t be around to carry you to hospital.’
The minute we stepped out of the hotel, the girl who had been trying to beg from me earlier started following us down the street, tugging each of our sleeves one by one. For a while, no one spoke.
Then, suddenly, Jeremy spun round, gave the girl a menacing look, and shouted in her face, ‘NO. NO BAKSHEESH.’
She didn’t move.
‘PSSHHT!PSSHHT!’ He hissed at her, waving her away with his arms, trying to frighten her off as if she were an under-intelligent dog.
Then he grabbed her upper arm and shook her once, quite hard. Her expression remained totally blank, and she didn’t move.
‘PSSHHT!’ he hissed.
This time she obeyed, quietly turning round, and heading back to her waiting spot outside the hotel.
The three of us walked on in embarrassed silence. I was shocked that Jeremy could be so callous. Registering the look on my face, he gave a you’re-so-naïve-I’m-so-wise chuckle. ‘They’re not real beggars those children,’ he said. ‘They just target the tourist hotels. You’d never see an Indian giving them any money.’
‘Looked like a beggar to me. She wasn’t exactly plump, was she?’
‘They’re run by gang leaders who take whatever money they get.’
‘The kids don’t get anything?’
‘Of course not. It’s all run by pimps.’
‘What happens if they end the day without any money, though?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ he chuckled. ‘They make a 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 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 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 ? 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
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?’