Destination India (8 page)

Galvanise (v.) To startle into sudden activity; stimulate

I know you shouldn’t judge someone on first impressions but it was quite hard not to feel both disappointed and angry with this man. It wasn’t just Nihal’s unkempt appearance – even his creased shirt wasn’t done up correctly – it was that he showed so little interest in the tour goers and was walking at such a quick speed I almost had to break into a jog to keep up with him. He was like the crap Pied Piper of India leading the way down the noisy, busy streets not even checking we were all together.

Ollie bounded over to join me at the back. ‘Hey, Louise right? I’m crap with names,’ he said with his hands in his pockets, distracting me from glaring at Nihal.

‘Yep, that’s me – Louise,’ I said, the name sounding weird even on my own lips.

‘So how come you chose to come to India then?’

‘Just, erm, just always fancied coming here, you know?’
Cool story, bro.

Ollie nodded then quickly sidestepped over a large dollop of cow manure on the pavement.

‘What about you?’

He sighed and ran a hand through his ginger hair. His muscular right arm was covered in an intricate sleeve tattoo. ‘I’m the same, always dreamt about visiting this
country but just never had the time or money to do it. I, erm, I split up with my girlfriend about a year ago now and just thought if I didn’t go now then I never would, like.’ He smiled bashfully.

‘Well that’s as good an excuse as any.’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, every cloud and all that. Don’t get me wrong, I was crushed when it happened.’ He scratched his freckled nose. ‘Then as time went on I just realised that I’d changed too. Maybe my mam was right; my ex was the right girl at the right time but we had an expiry date. So after that deep epiphany I booked myself here.’ His mouth broke into a pearly white grin as he stretched out his arms over the chaotic street we were half jogging half walking down to keep up with the others. ‘Sorry, is that TMI? Feel like a reet girl now.’

I shook my head and smiled. ‘Don’t let Flic hear you say that. Hey if it makes you feel any better I sometimes forget to brush my teeth at the weekends,’ I said.

‘Now that is too much information.’ Ollie let out a booming laugh. ‘I wondered what the smell was.’

I nudged him playfully, flirtatiously in fact, before realising that the others had stopped walking and I barely knew this cute guy in front of me.
Must be the jet lag,
I told myself. The rest of the group had congregated outside the doors of a large restaurant; you could smell the spicy food cooking from out here. I noticed Flic was staring disdainfully at Bex who was panting loudly, half bent over her knees from the hike here.

‘Wait here,’ Nihal ordered and went inside, leaving us stood on a badly lit street corner. Liz, who looked like she needed a lie-down, quickly jumped out of the way of a speeding motorbike that almost careered into her.

‘He’s the silent type then.’ Flic snorted and nodded her head after Nihal.

I smiled weakly, trying to hide the irritation I felt. ‘Yeah, looks that way.’

Five awkward minutes later Nihal was back with us. ‘Change of plan.’ He rubbed his hands together, looked over our shoulders down the dusty street and lit up a fag. ‘Follow me.’

‘Is there a problem?’ I called out ignoring both Chris who was sighing loudly and the knotted feeling in my stomach.

‘No, follow me,’ Nihal replied after exhaling a deep lungful of smoke.

‘I don’t reckon he’s booked us anywhere,’ Ollie whispered.

‘I have a feeling you might be right.’ I winced.

Another thirty minutes of walking on crumbling pavements, sidestepping cow poo and dodging wild rickshaws and we stopped again. Nihal nipped inside another restaurant. Only this one wasn’t anywhere near as bright or welcoming as the last place, but I was so tired and hungry I had gone past the point of caring.

‘Bet you wish you’d had that plane food now,’ Flic said in a sing-song voice, looking at Bex who was still panting after power walking here.

‘I’ll eat
you
in a minute,’ Bex muttered under her breath.

‘OK, guys, come in,’ Nihal interrupted Flic’s sarky reply and propped open the low door, acting as if this had been part of the plan all along.

We ducked under the door and entered a large restaurant. In the dim light it looked much better than it had from the outside. I breathed a sigh of relief that this night would be OK after all. White linen tablecloths that were topped with gleaming silver cutlery and tea lights shone against the deep maroon walls. Smiling, smartly dressed waiters milled around the busy room, which was full of people of
a mixture of ages, all tucking into mouth-watering food. There was a stage set to the right with unusual-looking instruments, some of which I’d never seen before, propped up waiting for the band to arrive.

‘Thank God we can finally sit down,’ Bex said, wiping beads of sweat from her clammy forehead with a napkin.

‘I dunno about you lot but I cannae wait to get stuck into my first real curry. I bet the local Indian near me ain’t a patch on this place.’ Ollie grinned.

‘Well I don’t eat meat, carbs, farmed eggs, anything mass-produced …’ Flic was ticking things off on her piano-playing, thin fingers. That caused a loud groan from Bex at the other end of the table. ‘Seriously if you knew how much the food industry controls what we eat, it’d make you think twice about stuffing your face with anything and everything.’ Ollie raised an eyebrow, trying to understand what she was going on about. ‘There’s SO much that the government lies to us about regarding where our food comes from. I mean, if you think about it, this industry is as big as tobacco companies
and
weapons manufacturers but no one ever questions the politics that go on behind closed doors. It’s truly fascinating and scary that more people don’t know this,’ Flic said before Nihal interrupted her.

‘The menu has already been decided,’ he said sharply. ‘We’re having a taste of India so you can pick and choose what you do and don’t eat.’

Flic dipped her eyes to the ruby red placemat in front of her, muttering under her breath that what she chose to eat was a basic human right.

‘Right, what we drinking, guys?’ Bex rubbed her hands together ignoring Flic’s pout. ‘I wonder if they do pints of Guinness in here?’

I called for a waiter to take our drinks order as Nihal was talking on his phone. He’d pretty much ignored the group
since we’d sat down and, feeling responsible, I tried to take charge. ‘Erm can we get a bottle of red and a bottle of white, some mineral water and, oh, do you do Guinness?’

‘No. Sorry, miss,’ the young fresh-faced waiter apologised.

‘Ah no worries, make it two bottles of red and two bottles of white wine,’ Bex shouted out. ‘After a few glasses I’ll be on my way.’ She roared with laughter.

Once the drinks had finally arrived followed by a bazillion silver dishes filled with rice, curry and brightly coloured sauces, Nihal hung up his phone and seemed to perk up slightly. He barked at the waiter to lay out the dishes in order of strength starting from the mildest, yoghurt-based korma to the super spicy Phall, hotter than a vindaloo, right at the end. I could see Ollie eyeing that one up.

‘You up for it, Chris? Being the only men on the tour, we better show these ladies we can handle the heat,’ Ollie joked, ignoring Flic’s scowl.

Chris gave him the sneery look that seemed permanently etched on his face. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Ah, OK. Well, no worries,’ Ollie mumbled, tearing off a huge hunk of naan bread. ‘More for me then hey!’

With our plates piled high with a selection of curries and our glasses full, the lights in the restaurant suddenly dimmed even more. A band headed up to the stage followed by a loud round of applause, and soon the mesmerising and melodic sound of a sitar was the only sound in the busy room.

I glanced around at the faces of the other tour goers to see if they felt as entranced as I did. Nihal had nipped out for a cigarette; Chris was poking around a few grains of boiled rice on his empty plate using the light of his phone to pick out pieces of carrot from one of the less spicy sauces; Ollie gave me the thumbs up and both Liz and Flic were swaying to the calming beat.

Bex caught my eye and gently squeezed my arm. ‘Welcome to India,’ she whispered excitedly before shoving a forkful of lentil dal in her mouth then wiping off a splodge that had landed on her T-shirt.

I smiled back, feeling a rush of happiness at being sat in an Indian restaurant with a group of strangers eating real Indian curry and listening to three bearded men who were now singing what sounded like a slow, romantic love song in ruddy India.

As the emotion of the song intensified I couldn’t help but think about Ben. I wondered what he was doing, if he missed me or was glad that I was out of his hair for a while. He was one of very few people who got me; he knew when to let things pass and when to stand up and tell me I was being a dick. I loved that about him. I loved a lot of things about him.

You could hear the passion in the lead singer’s voice as the lilting harmonies effortlessly combined and it gave me a fluttery feeling in my stomach but also a pang of disappointment in myself. I’d had the courage to walk away from my cheating ex-fiancé, to travel to Thailand and to start my own business, but I couldn’t find an ounce of bravery to tell this one person that he meant the world to me.

I took a deep breath and tried to put it out of my mind; it wasn’t like I could change anything from all the way in India, so instead I sat back in my chair to watch the rest of the musicians’ set. When the music finished, the whole restaurant, including my tour group, broke into loud, appreciative applause for the talented stars. As the lights rose slightly I turned back round in my seat and noticed that we were a man down; Nihal was missing.

‘Anyone see where Nihal’s gone?’ I asked, feeling a prickling sensation down my spine. He couldn’t still be
smoking, surely? Everyone else shrugged. I scanned my eyes around the restaurant, which had emptied slightly now that the band had finished. Nihal was nowhere to be seen.

‘Maybe he’s gone to the loo?’ Bex suggested licking her fingers. ‘Or another fag?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I replied. Although I slowly realised as time ticked on that our tour guide hadn’t nipped to the bathroom but had done a runner. As the restaurant emptied out it felt like the mood of the group had bombed too. Liz was fiddling with the straw in her glass of Coke, Chris was back checking his phone, Flic was yawning and Ollie and Bex looked like they were in a food coma, gazing off into space. I needed to liven this group up and quickly. So what if Nihal had abandoned us? He had hardly been Mr Partay Animal anyway. I had to take control and make this tour memorable for the right reasons. I felt responsible for them now that Nihal had left and, yeah, we could have slunk off back to the hotel but it was still early and I wanted them to enjoy every minute that they had paid for.

The depressing mood wasn’t helped by the brilliant band being replaced with what must have been the worst sitar player in all of Delhi. Sat cross-legged on the single spot-lit stage was an old man with long, straggly grey hair hanging limply over his hunched shoulders. He was drawling out some incomprehensible lyrics with his eyes shut, completely unaware that no one was paying any attention to him.

‘Has everyone eaten enough?’ I asked. We still had so much food on the table but they all murmured that they were full. I necked my glass of white wine and tried to top up the glasses around me. Alcohol was always the way through deadly awkward silences.

‘Doesn’t look like our awesome leader is coming back,’ Chris said, stifling a yawn.

‘What is with him? I mean I thought we would be with the best travel guide in all of India from the way the Lonely Hearts Travels website goes on about it,’ Flic commented. I felt a stab in my chest. ‘I mean, this dude could not give two shits about us. He probably only brought us here so he could get some sort of commission, a back-handed payment from the restaurant owner or something.’

‘Did you see that review?’ Bex leant forward and asked in a hushed whisper as if Nihal would suddenly spring out from behind her.

‘What review?’ I asked feeling flushed but hoping my face remained blank.

I knew the review they were talking about. The whole reason I was sat here now.

‘You didn’t read it?’ Bex asked sucking air through her teeth as if about to give the bill for a clapped-out car’s MOT. ‘Everyone else did, right?’ she asked the others who nodded and winced.

‘I nearly cancelled my trip because of it,’ Liz said quietly.

‘So, erm, what did this review say?’ I asked, pouring a big glass of water for my dry mouth.

‘Just that it was a complete shambles, the tour guide was useless, the activities were crap and it was really disorganised,’ Ollie said.

‘Oh right, God that’s … erm … bad, awful,’ I said inhaling sharply. ‘But it didn’t put you off coming then?’

‘Nah, I mean you can’t believe all you read online,’ Ollie said shrugging. ‘Yeah so whoever wrote it was right about Nihal being a wazzock but even if he is getting a little extra in his pocket at least he brought us to a nice place. This scran was probably the best I’ve ever had, like.’

‘You’re such a man, thinking through your stomach; what about the ethics of the whole thing?’ Flic pursed her lips. ‘I’m serious. If this Nihal fella doesn’t sort his shit out
then I will not hesitate to demand a refund, or at the very least leave an equally crap review.’

I felt my heart rate quicken; I noticed Chris’s beady eyes look up from his phone screen as Flic finished and took a gulp of her water.

‘I think I’m going to call it a night,’ Chris said letting out an over-the-top yawn.

‘No!’ I yelled.

Chris stared at me. I had made my decision. Stuff the bad review and stuff Nihal; they had all come here to have fun and I was going to make sure that they did.

‘Let me just see if maybe they can sort this music out and then why don’t we get another round of drinks in?’ I blustered and scraped my chair back. ‘It’s our first night here; we need to celebrate!’