A Tale of Old India !

Awash with curry, beer and decidedly whacky baccy, my driver, Jagbinder, and I decided to leave Mr. Patel, my sanctimonious guide, to his devotions and coconut milk lunch, and explore the Bibi Garh.

At this point I had still failed to impress upon him that I only wanted to look at all of the knocking shops,

since he continued to talk lustfully of rumpy puppy, chubby girls and much jiggy jiggy ! Clearly, he, at least, was no stranger to the Bibi Garh !

Parking his 1957 Morris Oxford taxi at the top of the street, and immobilising it by removing the rotor arm, several metres of dashboard wiring and threading two lengths of heavily padlocked chain through each pair of door handles, we sauntered wobbily down into the Bibi Garh. Exchanging pleasantries with the harlots ( his custom was obviously much appreciated ), I had to fend 'em off with knees and elbows. 

Jagbinder called over a surly youth leaning in an open doorway. Much haggling and bargaining ensued ( all in Hindi, of course ) , whilst I tried for the umpteenth time to make it clear that I wanted only to visit the street and not indulge in any bedroom gymnastics. A deal being agreed, the youth led us off to an even narrower and seedier alleyway, and then opened a gate into a rubbish strewn courtyard. At that point alarm and panic kicked in and I screeched to Jagbinder that I wanted out of here, and NOW !

" We cannot leave, Sahib " , he replied, " I will lose face ! ".  " Sod your face ! ", I told him, " Much more

of this and I'm likely to lose my Wedding tackle, never mind my Rolex, wallet, credit cards and sundry jewellery ! ".    But "face " had to retained, of course, so he babbled a string of excuses , I chucked over a a fistful of Rupees, and we legged it, pronto, back to the car.   Leaning against his taxi, and fighting for breath, I asked Jagbinder what he had said to the youth in order that we could escape. " Oh, nothing ", he replied. " I just told him that you wanted three of his finest girls. They were to be hosed down with the yard brush, and then scented and oiled especially for you, and that I would deliver them to your hotel for you at ten o/clock tonight. Your room number is 40 at the Oberoi Cecile Hotel, isn't it ? ".  I sank back into my seat shocked and horrified. " Oh, there is one other thing, Sahib " , he said, " I should take you to the bank to draw out some cash, because they won't take credit cards ! ".