As the afternoon heat in Bundi subsided, Clare retired and I explored the back streets.
After the Bull Run in Pushkar, I was on the lookout and sure enough I was followed.
Every time I looked around, he expertly insinuated himself behind a lamp post or a copy of the Bundi Herald. He was adept at nipping between pot plants or into doorways. When I caught him in the open he raised the collar of his trench coat and adjusted his dark glasses or looked skyward and whistled tunelessly while inspecting the guttering of a neighbouring property. But the net was closing.
Finding myself cornered in a back street cul-de-sac, I feared the worst.
Just as he revealed himself and started to pick up speed in my direction, the door of a Jain temple opened and the attendant was surprised but delighted by the forcefulness of my desire to be shown round. The door closed momentarily before the clonk of horn on wood and by the time the tour was over El Toro had lost interest and wandered off to intimidate some other strawberry blonde.
After the Bull Run in Pushkar, I was on the lookout and sure enough I was followed.
Every time I looked around, he expertly insinuated himself behind a lamp post or a copy of the Bundi Herald. He was adept at nipping between pot plants or into doorways. When I caught him in the open he raised the collar of his trench coat and adjusted his dark glasses or looked skyward and whistled tunelessly while inspecting the guttering of a neighbouring property. But the net was closing.
Finding myself cornered in a back street cul-de-sac, I feared the worst.
Just as he revealed himself and started to pick up speed in my direction, the door of a Jain temple opened and the attendant was surprised but delighted by the forcefulness of my desire to be shown round. The door closed momentarily before the clonk of horn on wood and by the time the tour was over El Toro had lost interest and wandered off to intimidate some other strawberry blonde.
Before we left Bundi, I tuk-tuked across town in the darkness to see the 84 pillar mausoleum to the maharajas that Lonely Planet advised should best be seen when lit up at night. Foolishly, with hindsight, I stopped at the ATM on the way, and loaded up with rupees before continuing with the journey.
The roads got narrower and darker, the further we went. There was a left and a right and tuk-tuk was stopping to talk to some shady characters in an unlit, potholed side lane. Oh God! How could I have been so stupid? A year’s salary in my camera bag and a month’s wages in my pocket. This was not looking good. But off we motored with a cheery wave to the would-be assailants and my heart lifted.
The lights were off at the monument and I struggled to take a picture in the almost complete darkness. Then there was a rustling in the distance and out of the gloom appeared one, then two, then five figures. Silently they approached, eased over the wall and in a moment surrounded me while tuk-tuk stood a few yards back. I whispered a dry throated greeting and tightened my grip on the SLR, expecting the usual pleasantries before the request to part with it came. Oh God! How could I have been so stupid? Again!
And then they were gone without a hint of menace and I breathed a sigh of relief, extracting my fingernails one by one from the hard plastic cover of the camera as the rictus of fear subsided.
And then it happened. Out of the darkness something hit me on the back of the head. Dazed and confused I fell to one knee just as a second blow came down on my temple. I felt a warm trickle behind my ear and whirled to face my attacker, but in the darkness I was blind. A third blow on the shoulder and I flailed wildly at the invisible assailant.
Tuk-tuk was under attack as well and his anguished cries lead me to the relative safety of the back seat. Blows continued to rain down on the canvas hood of the auto as tuk-tuk fired it up and screeched away in a pall of smoking rubber.
Tuk-tuk was under attack as well and his anguished cries lead me to the relative safety of the back seat. Blows continued to rain down on the canvas hood of the auto as tuk-tuk fired it up and screeched away in a pall of smoking rubber.
It transpired that the monkeys in the trees had been throwing poo at us.
Frankly, I would rather have been robbed.
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