Today was… an education, I suppose, when we discovered ourselves not to be the savvy + worldly-wise travellers we had thought ourselves to be. But I’ll tell the story bit by bit. We went out in the morning to find a cardboard box to send home a parcel of Burmese crafts etc. In most countries, no big deal, but in India where even the rubbish bins are pored thro’ for pieces of broken glass, a cardboard box is a rare + valuable item. We had worked our way along a few shops on the main avenue when we were approached on the street. Normally, I would have shrugged off such an approach – already in India we have received our fair share of invitations to buy, sell, whatever – but this man seemed different: better-dressed, better-spoken, middle-aged. And his proposition sounded different too. I didn’t understand it properly, but it was some sort of currency swindle, by which we would be able to make a quick profit, while doing him a favour, or so he said. In any case, he invited us to go with him to a coffee-house to discuss the matter, so we agreed. All very casual + pleasant, especially since we travelled there by taxi – our friend had a bad leg, he told us.
At the café, we met up with another traveller, one who had done a similar deal yesterday, + was now coming back for more. This was how it was explained to us: our friend was wishing to open a shop in London, + the only way legally for him to export the necessary cash was in travellers’ cheques, made out to him by a foreigner, presumably for goods purchased from his shop in Calcutta. So he would provide cash with which we would buy travellers’ cheques, which we would then sign over to him, + he would give us $200 for every thousand. Money for jam, it sounded, + I couldn’t spot a catch – he even left us alone with the other guy for a few mins to discuss it. The only odd thing was that he needed to know how much of our own money we had. The story was that he had been taken by a French traveller, + so now needed to be sure the people he dealt with had funds of their own. So on the advice of the other traveller, we included our “funny money”, the cheques we’d already declared stolen, for border-crossing purposes. If I’d had time to think, it would have seemed suspicious then, but I didn’t.
We finished our coffee + piled into another taxi – off to make the transaction. We dropped Val off at the Tourist Office, from where we would collect her later, so that she too could make the deal, the better not to attract too much attention at the bank. And then down a side-street, where we other 3 got out. One at a time, our friend told us, we don’t want to put all of our eggs into one basket. You first, he said, indicating the other guy, who prompted pulled out his money-belt + handed it over. Back in 5 mins, said our friend, have to get this checked, + off he walked in the opposite direction. Did the first alarm bell ring here? I think so, but was so busy reassuring the other guy, who suddenly seemed panic-stricken about the whole thing. We went off for a short walk to pass the time, during which I did have the presence of mind to pull out the cash and cheque nos. out of my belt. But then we returned to the appointed spot, we only had to wait a couple of mins before our friend re-appeared, + pressed the money-belt back into the owner’s hand. What on earth had we been worrying about? Right, said our friend, best that we don’t send you both to the same bank. Here, he said, handing over ten rupees, you take a taxi to American Express, I’ll be over in half an hour. Here came, perhaps, the neatest touch of all. Shouldn’t we stick together, says the other. No, says, I, that’s alright – I didn’t want to cause a fuss, + I wanted the business over. So off he went. A Canadian he was, or said he was. A little older than me. And he’d seemed a little more naïve too. Huh.
That left just me + my friend, + it was my turn to have my money checked. I handed it over. Right, he said, see you in 5 mins. You know the rest. Or at least you should. Never saw him again, of course. Raj, his name was. A well-dressed, well-spoken, middle-aged Indian. And a con man. And a clever one too, tho’ I’m no judge. I knew what had happened almost as soon as he walked away, I think, but I suppressed that knowledge. But curiously, even when time made those feelings certain, when 10, 20, 30 mins had passed, I was not angry. Disappointed + let-down, I suppose, but as well as that there was a certain serves-you-right feel – after all, hadn’t this con, like all others, played upon human greed – plus a sneaking admiration for the skill with which the game had been played. I replayed our encounter in my head, trying to spot both the flaws + the nice touches, + in general there were more of the latter than the former. And I was reluctant to admit, even to myself, that I really had been had, so I put off that moment for longer than I should have done. I walked up + down, I stood around, I even started off to the Tourist Office before turning back for one final check, but all at a snail’s pace, the most leisurely of strolls, trying to give our friend as much time as possible in case something had gone wrong, + he had simply been delayed.
But then there was a sudden click of realisation + I snapped into action, walking briskly to the Tourist Office to find Val. I wasn’t sure where I was, or it was, having become disoriented with the taxi rides, but I asked, + was soon there – it wasn’t far. She greeted me with a relieved smile – she was surrounded by tourist brochures, so had wasted no time – but I immediately did the cruel + kind thing, + broke the news. She took it slightly worse than I had, but had the disadvantage of surprise. Though I’m not sure that that is fair, for, like me, she wasn’t really surprised at all.
We got immediately down to business – the deed was done, + all we could do now was treat the matter as theft. The disturbing thing was not the loss of the real, valid travellers’ cheques, for they could, + would, be replaced; it was not the loss of the few rupees which I had stupidly left in the cheque wallet. It was the funny-money, the stuff we had vowed never to use, which was now being thrust into circulation. Any Amex investigator, seeing that those cheques reported lost in Costa Rica had now reappeared at the same time as us in India, would not take long to come to a conclusion, + tho’ wrong, we would have no way of proving that our intentions had always been only semi-dishonest. We caught a bus straight to the Amex office (open, to our surprise) where we filled in the appropriate forms. Monday, we were told, was the earliest a refund could be hoped for – at least the man didn’t scoff openly at our story + tell us to go tell it to the birds. And just to prove that every cloud has a silver lining, there was a small bundle of mail waiting for us. 2 letters forwarded from HK, justifying the money we spent to have it happen. A card from Angela, plus a letter from Maggie, the very first we’ve got from her, tho’ she tells us she’s sent others. Dave + Laraine sent a postcard each from Sidcup – amazing, they’re back in England, + 2 from Val’s mum, enclosing a letter from David + Jinty. Quite a batch, maintaining our recent remarkable form, + now that the loss has been reported to Amex, we didn’t feel there was any urgency about making the formal report to the police, so we sat down in the air-conditioned luxury of the office – oh that they were all so well-provided – + read them all.
Only when that was done did we troop off to the police stn – the nearest one was close to Sudder St, which was convenient. It really was the merest of formalities, our story of having our bag lifted on a crowded bus must have been common enough. But there was never the slightest thought or mention on either their part or ours of attempting to find “the thief” – in both actual reality + the fiction they were giving polite credence to, that was a practical impossibility. But we filled out the form, they gave us a mildly official-looking form to give to Amex, + we were done. Or back to where we had begun the day, looking for a box.
A snack first to recover some strength (in the Kwality restaurant), then the search resumed. It was a frustrating + ultimately fruitless enterprise, but it successfully drained our remaining energy, trooping from shop to shop, + then going thro’ the market – there we were offered one unsatisfactory specimen for 15 rupees. I nearly shoved it down his throat. We gave up in the end, + ate at the open-air stalls. It was a mistake tho’, as it did not seem nearly so tasty this time.
Returned to listen to the sports programme on the radio which by no means served to dispel the depression + gloom which had settled over us, hardly surprising, Val joined me for the second half.
I suppose this has to be counted as one of the perils of the time: a lack of information. Nowadays, news of such scams spreads quickly, but then it was the first time we had encountered such a thing. And of course, we had our own reasons for keeping it quiet, so we perpetuated the secrecy. In the end, no very great harm done… except to our pride, I suppose.
