We were on our way to the Tourist Office this morning to buy our bus tickets to Jammu. That would mean we wouldn’t have enough money for Sultan, but we would worry about that later. We decided not to go and see the Man, not yet anyway. Neither would we, yet, change any money. That could wait until all other avenues had been explored. Not, so far as we could see, that we had so many. But we were passing one of the seedier side sts, leading off from the road, when we were approached by one of the money changer touts. But obviously he was of a pessimistic nature, for before even getting a reply he had turned + was walking away. I had to shout at him to get him to come back. Was he interested in buying a watch? “Show me.” We fished out the bigger, man’s watch + handed it over. It was quite remarkable, for immediately a crowd of around a dozen materialised, as if out of thin air, + were passing it around among themselves. Even the lady squatting in the street nearby selling fish had a look at it, + she was one of the first to put in a bid, serious or not, I can’t say, of Rs500. “Come!” said our tout – he was wearing red trousers, or otherwise I wouldn’t have recognised him, + he led a small procession down the side street. He led the procession, but we had the watch.
We stopped at a jewellers, a hurried conversation was carried out, in Kashmiri, Hindi, Urdu, I don’t know, + we handed the watch over again. The old man in charge – it was only a stall really, not what you + I think of as a jewellers – took the watch + started doing some tests. As these involved scraping at the case, we bellowed our immediate disapproval, but the deed was done, fortunately without too much obvious damage. The old jeweller knew enough of his craft, however, to announce that the watch wasn’t gold. To my surprise, this did not seem to deter anyone. On the contrary, there was even more fevered interest, + one man in particular started some serious bargaining. He was connected in some way with the jeweller – they consulted together a good deal, + there was some frantic exchange of cash. In short time, both sides had reached their entrenched positions, + there wasn’t much between them – we insisted on 700, he had 680 in his hand. He insisted he didn’t have the extra 20, we were equally convinced he was merely trying it on, for we had some thoughts of making up the difference with a piece of jewellery, but he then started quoted extravagant prices. So we turned + walked away.
We felt most uncertain about it, however, + I’m sure that had we gone 20 paces we would have turned back + accepted the offer. Luckily for us, before we had gone 10, another guy stopped us, asked to look at the watch, + agreed to pay the 700. We followed him back down the street the way we had come, then up the darkest + dingiest staircase + into a small room, containing a couple of women. It was only here, emerging into the dim half-light from the complete blackness of the stairs, that I realised that the red-trousered tout was still with us, still, no doubt, desperately hoping for a commission. Our buyer looked at the watch briefly again – we thanked God for the dullness of the light – then pulled out his wallet, + peeled off 7 hundreds from a fat roll. He then handed the watch over to his wife, Val thinks in a contemptuous + patronising manner. I am not so censorious but there was certainly a mixture of the triumphant + the off-hand. At this dashing of his hopes, the tout became almost frantic. “Take it back!” he screamed. “Take back your watch! I will get you 800!” To my credit, (tho’ I say it myself), I did not consider his suggestion for a moment. A deal was a deal, for one. I was pleased enough with what we’d got, for two. I don’t think he would have handed it back (+quite right!) for three. So I shook hands, + down we went into the street again, the tout following + pleading.
When we got back out in the daylight, + had gone some way down the street, our red-trousered shadow asked if we had anything more. So thinking we might as well try it while our luck was in, we showed him the ladies’ rolex too. He wanted us to go with him there + then to someone he promised would give 700 for it, but we told him we had business to do first, so he told us he would see us at the Post Office. We felt absolutely elated, we could have skipped singing down the road. We now had some money in our pocket once again, so did not have to change any of our dollars. Just as important, we now had the upper hand in our dealings with the guy who wanted to buy our camera + watch. This would show him he was not the only person in town with money to buy things. Also, if he didn’t raise his offer, we could now go to Delhi + try again there. More than anything else, we simply felt relieved + free from worry. A temporary respite, of course, but a respite nonetheless.
Our business – tickets at the Tourist Centre, mail sent off at the PO – was completed with no problems, + we were free to disappear with Red trousers – he had walked with us from outside the Tourist building, anxious lest we should disappoint him again. He wanted us to go with him to see his brother-in-law in the Old Town, a walk he said of 15 to 20 mins. This meant a good half-hour, we knew, + so it proved, but it was by no means unpleasant, + more interesting than the walk we’d taken alone yesterday. We went into an area of town we’d not visited before, apart from a brief glide thro’ its waterways as part of our shikara tour. But as we observed at the time, just about every city in Asia has an area something like it – narrow streets + alleys, tiny shops, +, in India, cows – + we’ve walked thro’ quite a few. Red Trousers chatted a bit about the various sites along the way, but it wasn’t easy to follow his English, so I soon gave up. The certain sale that we’d been promised turned out to exist only in his mind. We arrived at the place – a hand-woven carpet factory – the man there looked at the watch, tho’ without any excitement or even real interest, before pronouncing it to be too expensive. We stormed out, + for once our anger was more feigned than real. We had already done our business for the day – this was merely the icing on the cake. I always used to pull the icing off anyway. We were considerably more annoyed that, during our walk back to our own area of town, we weren’t able to get a coffee at a reasonable price. Even the tattiest of cafes seemed to think Rs3 a fair price – we must have stomped out of 3 or 4.
We had decided to walk up the hill overlooking the lake in the afternoon – I can’t remember the name, it’s the one topped with the television mast – so had to start up it, once we’d found the path (no easy matter) unrefreshed. It wasn’t a very inspiring walk, just a steady plod up a dusty dirt track. Unusually, it was Val who said she’d had enough, + sat down on a rock to wait for me, while I carried on to the top. Above + beyond the TV tower is a small + somewhat insignificant Hindu temple, perched on the very top like the nipple on the breast, + that is what I made my goal. It was quite a strenuous climb, + not really worth it in terms of an improved view, but I took a quick picture to show I’d been there, over the grey + hazy lake + surroundings. Even from this height, the lake more nearly resembled an unplanned housing estate – only in a couple of places was there any open water.
We treated ourselves upon our return with tea + bread + butter aboard the Mona Lisa – neither of us were very surprised to see the young man from the shop coming aboard, no doubt to see what had happened to his watch + camera, especially after our apparent eagerness yesterday. Satisfyingly, he seemed shaken by our revelation that we had sold the watch, but we accepted his invitation to call by his shop at around 7 to discuss our camera. We made it clear, however, that we did not intend to waste any more time.
When we called by, we were as good as our word – when it became obvious that he was not going to raise the price, didn’t, indeed, quite believe us about the watch being sold – he obviously thought it was some sort of bargaining ploy. So out we went, not at all unhappy about it. We didn’t like the bloke, + would not have been happy to be outdone by such a worm.
We ate a splendid tea, topped it off with some fine cake, + returned to pay a social call on the English girls on the houseboat next door. We were even more determined to go across when Mukbu, Sultan’s son, was determined for some reason of his own to dissuade us from going. We over-ruled him, + went around the back on the strip of land running along that all the boats on our stretch were tied up to. It didn’t begin as a very social affair, just standing out in the kitchen talking with just one of the girls – they had a shawl salesman showing his wares in the lounge. He was coming to the end, they prayed – + were worried that our arrival would start him off again. It wasn’t very likely, in fact – we’d crossed swords before.
It was a pleasant + undemanding evening. Naturally enough, most of the conversation centred around our travels, since they had all just come out from England. What I enjoyed most was quietly lusting after the young Scots girl who was one of the 4.
Another day dominated by business, but since on this occasion we had had at least partial success, altogether a jollier day.
