I felt better this morning, + we walked into town to do some window-shopping. We looked around some stalls, + certainly, if we had a lot of money, there is any amount of good stuff to buy. We didn’t tho’, not yet, because of Val’s natural caution and our worries about money. This late in the game, we don’t want to have to start thinking about having money sent out, + it’s notoriously difficult in India anyway, where it’s reputed they hang on to money long after it’s arrived, in order to collect the interest. It’s far more likely, if we can get a half-decent price for it, that we’ll try to sell our camera. Again. We’re not at all sure it’s the camera of our dreams (we reckon it must have been second hand when we bought it from those crooks in HK), it’ll be one less thing to worry about when we travel home, + of course we need the money. Cameras aren’t expensive in London, so if + when we get a job, it won’t be too costly to replace it. This depends, however, upon finding out that our old Yashica is still working. That shouldn’t be too difficult, for I used it in Burma, so we just have to develop that one roll of film.
Val went off to look at Old Delhi then, but I didn’t have the energy to go with her, so retired to do some writing at Ringo’s. It’s a convenient place, we use it as a base, refuge, + meeting-place when we are in town. When she returned, + bearing a new shirt as well, we went shopping again. Now that Val had satisfied herself that the shops in old Delhi were not cheaper than those in New, we might perhaps buy something. Our target was a special govt. shop set up to promote the homespun and handloom products, + for one month after Gandhi’s birthday, had a 25% off sale. Val had visited it last night, + had warned me that I would hate it. She was quite right. Not because of the goods on offer, which were mostly excellent, but because of the mass of the milling crowd, in every dept. We were particularly interested in the huge bed-sheets, printed with exotic patterns, + after some deliberation, we bought one, our idea being to turn it into a duvet cover. (Our idea – Val’s execution.)
That done, we returned to pack up our clothes, pay our bill, + leave. We were in plenty of time, for the train didn’t leave until 9.30, but we wanted to eat first, + would in any case only be kicking our heels hanging around. In town, we drank an awful lot of apple juice out of the machine – it’s ice-cold, really tasty, + only R1 a glass. I still had little appetite, but Val was hungry, so we went to Nirula’s, India’s fast-food operatives. It wasn’t actually very fast at all, but Val rated the fried fish she had as good as from any chip-shop in England, so no complaints on that score. My major complaint is that they have no chairs, to discourage loitering, I suppose. Had our usual fresh fruit cream plus a hefty bottle of chocolate milk, then walked out to the stn, stopping only to buy fruit for the journey.
We established ourselves in the waiting-room, + passed the time in the usual way – reading, writing, doing a crossword. Of the 2 major papers, one takes its crossword from the Times, one from the Telegraph, so they’re of a good standard, certainly tough enough for us. It was not easy to get information about our train, for altho’ there was an information counter, there was also a pushy throng surrounding. But while I was waiting patiently in line – if line it can be called – a large + well-dressed Indian bustled in, giving me a shove sideways into the bargain. I turned + pushed him with one hand; not particularly hard, but I must have caught him off balance, for he went flying. He did stay on his feet, thank goodness, for I could not have answered for his suit. “You push me, I push you back,” I told him, + at first he was suitably apologetic, but when I then went on, rather graciously, to give a modified apology for having pushed him, he went onto the attack, + accused me of not having been in the queue. Obviously he was a moron as well as a boor – I turned away. I did notice, however, that not only was I now somehow next in line, but the clerk was deferential as well. The information I received was not so good, however – our train was 2 hours late. This meant climbing aboard pretty late, but we soon found our carriage + compartment, + sooner still were asleep.
Filling in time during the day as we waited for our train to head towards Kashmir. Most interesting was the encounter with the businessman. Of course, I regretted having bruised his dignity, but for once I did feel I had a certain moral authority, as it was him who was behavinng badly.
