Are You Experienced?

by William Sutcliffe

  Right,’ said Liz. ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Where are you from, though?’ I said.

  He ignored me.

  ‘England?’ I said. ‘We’re English.’

  Reluctantly, he nodded.

  ‘Whereabouts?’ I said.

  ‘Oh… the south.’

  ‘Excellent. So are we. London?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Which town?’

  He was pissed off now.

  ‘Tunbridge Wells,’ he said.

  ‘Nice,’ I said. ‘Must freak you out being here. Coming from a rich area like that, I mean.’

  ‘Not any more. Not any more,’ he said, looking deep into Liz’s eyes.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ she said.

  He chuckled. ‘Ohhh – long enough. Long enough to love it… and hate it. Long enough to wonder if I can ever go back.’

  ‘What’s that – a week?’ I said.

  Neither of them was amused.

  ‘D’ you get ill much, then?’ I said.

  ‘What do you mean by ill?’

  He looked at me as if he’d said something devastatingly intelligent.

  I looked at him as if he’d said something devastatingly stupid.

  ‘You know – ill. Delhi belly. The shits.’

  ‘Look – if you want to survive in this country – you’ve got to redefine your terms. Ill means one thing in the West and another thing in the East. An Indian accepts his fate –it’s the West’s constant fight against destiny that has created a nation of hypochondriacs. It’s all so fleeting – to me it hardly matters.’

  ‘I see you don’t drink the water, though,’ I said, nodding at the bottle of mineral water by his bed.

  He scowled at me. Liz scowled at me.

  ‘Do you mind if I have a sip, Jeremy – I mean, J?’

  He nodded.

  I realized I didn’t want to share his germs, so I tried to drink without touching the mouth of the bottle, but it didn’t really work, and most of it went down my front. I don’t think they noticed, though.

  Prompted by Liz, he started spouting off about all the places he’d been to, while she jotted down all his suggestions, muttering things like ‘Wow, it sounds amazing!’, ‘I don’t know if we’re brave enough for that,’ and ‘Where exactly do you find the camel man…?’ After this had gone on for long enough to make me feel nauseous, I asked Liz to step into the corridor for a word.

  ‘Why do we need to go outside?’ she said, reluctantly looking up from Jeremy’s maps.

  ‘Because I want a word.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘In private.’

  She exchanged looks with Jeremy, and stepped into the corridor with me. Before I had a chance to say anything, she laid into me.

  ‘Why are you being so rude?’

  ‘The guy’s an arsehole.’

  ‘There’s no need to talk to him like that.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? He’s a prick.’

  ‘If you bothered to talk to him, you’d know that he’s actually very nice.’

  ‘Oh, come on…’

  ‘He is. He’s also been here a long time, and has a lot of information which both of us will find very useful.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re flirting with him, is it?’

  ‘I’m not flirting with him.’

  ‘You are. He’s been giving you the eye since the minute you walked in the room, and you’re just lapping it up.’

  ‘Oh, give me a break.’

  ‘It’s true. That’s why I don’t like him.’

  ‘Oh, grow up.’

  She spun round and returned to the dormitory.

  I followed her in and said, ‘Well you can stay here as long as you like – I’m going to take a look at the city.’

  ‘Aren’t you even interested in this?’ she said. ‘Don’t you care where the good places are?’

  ‘I’m absolutely fascinated, Liz. I really am. But there’s a world out there to explore, you know. You can’t hide from it much longer.’

  I strode out, sensing victory, but feeling like a bit of a sad twat.

  Outside, it was somehow even hotter than inside.

  The hotel was in a quiet street, and I walked back towards the main road where the airport bus had dropped us off. Right, I thought. I’m walking down a street in India. I can handle this. I’m doing OK. Those look like proper houses, too – it’s obviously not such a poor country.

  Then some kid, who I have to admit did look pretty grubby, emerged from behind me and started tugging at my sleeve. She cupped her other hand in front of me.

  That reminds me, I thought. I have to change some money.

  ‘No, sorry,’ I said, and started walking again.

  The kid didn’t let go of my arm, though. She just carried on walking down the street with me, tugging at my sleeve.

  ‘No, sorry,’ I said again.

  She carried on tugging.

  ‘Look – I haven’t got any coins.’

  She tugged harder, and whined a word at me that I couldn’t understand.

  ‘NO COINS,’ I said, and walked off at a brisk pace.

  Although she was now half running, she kept up with me and tapped my arm whenever she could reach it.

  I stopped walking. ‘LOOK – NO COINS. I’M GOING TO THE BANK NOW. NO MONEY.’

  We stared at each other. She didn’t flinch. It was clear that whatever I said, she wasn’t going to leave me alone.

  I set off again, as fast as I could without breaking into a run, but still she kept up with me. When I stopped, she tugged at my sleeve again.

  ‘Get off,’ I said.

  She didn’t move.

  ‘Leave me alone.’

  She stared at me, with enormous miserable eyes. I really did wish I had some money now, partly to get rid of her, but also because the sight of her made me feel like a disgusting human being. It felt as if she were an inhabitant of hell who had been sent to haunt me – to remind me how rich and lucky I was, and how I didn’t deserve anything that I had.

  I didn’t want to be reminded how rich and lucky I was – especially since at that moment I was feeling particularly unlucky: trapped in unbelievable heat in a repulsive, filthy, threatening country, pinned to the spot by a five-year-old girl who wanted my money.

  We stared at each other. I tried to stop myself thinking about what kind of a life this girl must lead, and even fleetingly imagined that she was looking into my eyes, wondering what kind of life I led. A snapshot of home popped up in my mind, making me feel instantly homesick and guilty.

  ‘Go away,’ I said, weakly.

  She didn’t move. I took a couple of steps, and again she followed me, still tugging at my sleeve.

  Exasperated, I turned round and pushed her away, gently enough for her not to fall over, hard enough to make her take a couple of steps backwards. She stayed there, still eyeballing me.

  I walked away, and this time she didn’t follow.

  I tried not to let myself think about what had just happened. It was just something I would have to get used to. There must be a way of shrugging them off. There must be a way that Indians deal with it. I’d just have to learn.

  For an instant, I felt excited. This was going to be a battle. I was at last properly challenging myself.

  Then I felt depressed again. The pebbles were back in my stomach.

  By now I was in the main street. Over the road, I could see a bank. I crossed over and went in.

  They ignore it

  When I got back to the hotel, Liz and Jeremy were curled up on a bed with a map of India, giggling together. As soon as I entered the room, they both stopped laughing and gave me guilty looks, followed by badly concealed smirks.

  ‘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.

&
nbsp; ‘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 real 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 lot 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 do 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 do 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 you? 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 behave.’

  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.

&
nbsp; ‘Was that a whine? Are you classing that as a whine?’

  She glared harder.

  ‘Fine. Sorry I spoke. I suppose I’ll just have one of whatever you’re having.’

  ‘Very imaginative,’ she said, and maliciously ordered something made of lentils.

  It was a big moment taking my first mouthful of Indian food. I started with a few grains of rice. That seemed O K. It tasted of rice. I then moved on to the lentil dish, chewing slowly at first to see if anything strange was going to happen. It tasted hotter than most curries I had eaten, but went down easily enough and didn’t seem to provoke any instant adverse reaction.

  Due to my anxious state I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I forced down most of my portion in the hope that it would help me keep my spirits up. For desert, we each had a malaria tablet.

  *

  On the way back from the restaurant, just before we arrived at the hotel, we were accosted by the same beggar. Having already failed with Jeremy and me, this time she targeted Liz.

  The newly toughened Liz wasted no time, and after one tiny sleeve-tug, she spun round, grabbed the kid by the shoulder and said, ‘NO–NO MONEY. GO HOME,’ shaking her violently for emphasis. The girl, displaying considerably more skill than me at recognizing a psycho when she saw one, backed off immediately.

  Liz marched on to the hotel, victory stamped on her jawline. I could read what was going on in her head. Dave can’t handle this, she was thinking. He’s struggling. But me – I’m doing just fine. 1 can cope.

  For an instant, I felt the burnt-rubber aftertaste of a malaria tablet in the back of my throat. This whole thing just wasn’t going to work.

  It’s not compulsory, you know

  I had first met Liz only a few months previously. It was coming up to Christmas, and a group of us from school, all in the middle of our year off before university, were meeting up for a final drink together. The group was about to break up, with most of us setting off on various trips around the world.

  James (nominally my best friend, but in fact we’d been getting on each other’s nerves for at least three years) turned up with Paul, and with his new girlfriend – Liz. This struck me as slightly inappropriate. You don’t really want a newcomer around when old friends are getting together for an emotional farewell. It’s inhibiting.

  ‘Have you two met?’ he said, trying to sound casual. We both knew that he had told me all about her, in explicit and tedious detail, while deliberately keeping us apart. I had assumed that this meant he was embarrassed by Liz, and by her inability to live up to his ludicrous claims about her beauty, but one sight of her instantly demolished that theory. She was amazing. And exactly how he’d described her. With an affronted jolt, I realized that James hadn’t introduced us because he was embarrassed by me.